‘Sorry.’
‘No, this is nice. You’re OK.’
There was a long silence. Leo found himself utterly bereft of things to say. At last he said, ‘I feel I’m not rising to the occasion. Finding out about you is something of a shock. A twenty-one-year-old daughter I never knew I had.’
‘I’m twenty-two. My birthday’s March the seventeenth.’
‘Mine’s March the ninth.’
‘Really?’ She seemed delighted. ‘That makes us both Librans.’
‘If you say so. Another Coke? I need a top-up.’ She shook her head. Leo crossed the room and poured himself another Scotch. ‘Have you eaten?’ he asked.
‘Not since lunchtime.’
‘Come through to the kitchen and help me make supper.’
Between them they cooked scrambled eggs and bacon and talked for over two hours. Gabrielle poured forth a torrent of information about herself, her family, her upbringing, her likes and dislikes, her dreams and ambitions. In return, Leo told her about Oliver, about his own mother and his childhood in Wales. Gabrielle was thrilled to discover she had a half-brother.
‘Is Oliver like me? In looks, I mean?’
‘No, he’s very dark. You’re more like your grandmother.’
‘Can I meet her? Would she like me?’
‘I don’t see why not. Yes, I’m sure she’d like you.’
‘Have you got any pictures of Oliver? And your mother?’
Leo duly fetched some, and Gabrielle examined them closely. ‘He’s really sweet. I’d like to meet him. You haven’t said much about your ex-wife – what was her name again?’
‘Rachel. She’s a solicitor. Very …’ Leo searched for words. ‘Very cool and collected.’
‘Uh-huh. Why did you get divorced?’
Leo hesitated. ‘A number of reasons.’ Which was true. That he had been shagging the nanny was perhaps the least of them.
Gabrielle watched his face, remembering the night not long ago, when she’d seen him and that younger man, the kiss they’d exchanged. She couldn’t ask him about that. The relationship was new and fragile right now, but she couldn’t imagine a time when she would dare to broach a subject like that. Not that it mattered. What mattered was that she had finally done it, found her real father – and he was OK. In fact, he was more than OK. She grinned.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. I’m just glad.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Shit, I have to go. I’ve got an essay to finish.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘Barons Court.’
‘Let me drive you.’
She was putting on her boots. Then she got up and slipped on her jacket. ‘No thanks. I’m fine. Anyway, you’ve had two Scotches.’
At the front door, he said, ‘I’ll call you next week. We can have lunch in the Temple.’
She nodded. Standing there on the step, she hesitated, then quickly kissed him on one cheek.
‘Thank you for coming,’ he said.
He watched her cross the square and disappear into the night, then closed the door. He went back to the living room and picked up the piece of paper on which she had written her phone number. He fetched his mobile and entered it carefully, checking twice to make sure he had it right. Then he put the piece of paper in a desk drawer, and went to the kitchen to clear up, feeling strangely elated, and rather old.
CHAPTER NINE
A week later, at quarter to one on Friday, Rachel tidied her desk and headed to the Ladies. She was due to meet Andrew Garroway in a wine bar in Creechurch Lane in fifteen minutes, and she wished the whole thing was already over. She stared at her reflection, anxiously dabbing on a little more make-up, when a cubicle door opened and, to her surprise, Felicity emerged.
‘Felicity! What brings you here?’
‘Hiya. I’m here with Robert, having lunch with a couple of your people. Little marketing exercise, really. Nice to see you again.’
Felicity had been a secretary at Nichols & Co some years ago, and had worked briefly for Rachel – not the most illustrious episode in her career. In fact, she’d just been recalling, as she flushed the loo, that the last time she’d been in these bogs it had been to knock back a couple of amphetamines to keep her awake after a heavy night.
‘How are things?’ asked Rachel. ‘Oh, here – you’ve got your skirt tucked in your knickers.’
‘Thanks.’ Felicity groped behind and tugged it free. ‘Wouldn’t have done to go off to lunch showing my arse to the world, would it? Yeah, things are OK, thanks.’ And then, because it was the foremost thought in her mind these days, and because in the old days Rachel had been a haven of calm in the troubled seas of Felicity’s life, she added, ‘Vince is getting out of prison this afternoon. I’m taking the afternoon off to go over to his mum’s to help with the party.’