‘Great. Can I bring the documents over now for you to sign?’
‘Darling, I was just on my way out. Let it wait till Monday. You can take it you’re covered.’
Sarah hesitated. Strictly speaking she should get Gerald to initial the slip, but clearly he’d rather be heading off to Corney & Barrow than waiting around at the office for her. Besides, she was in a hurry, too. ‘OK. We’ll do it first thing on Monday. Thanks for that. Maybe see you for a drink soon?’
‘Charming idea,’ said Gerald. ‘Enjoy the weekend.’
Sarah put the phone down. Job done. She logged all the information on the computer, saved it, and hurried back to the flat in Docklands to shower and change.
By the time Sarah arrived at her father’s house, the party was well underway, the rooms ringing with well-bred chatter and laughter. It had taken Sarah longer to get ready than she’d anticipated. For some reason she felt the need to dress bravely, and had opted for a stunning little black Marc Jacobs number with the sheerest black stockings, which made the most of her legs, plus a pair of new Manolos with four-inch heels. Even without the dress and the heels, she knew she was the youngest and sexiest woman there. One glance round the room told her it was the usual crowd of Daddy’s moulting old birds and buffers. She gazed round at the crowd of lawyers and artists and writers, and reckoned the average age must be sixty.
Sir Vivian greeted his daughter with a kiss, dwelling on her appearance with a mixture of pride and anxiety, and reflecting that, like her mother, she was too extravagantly pretty. He introduced her to a brace of elderly Benchers, one tall and crumpled, the other short, round and bald. They beamed with pleasure at the sight of a pretty girl and, forgetting their years and imagining themselves thirty again, they battled with one another to occupy the small talk high ground while pretending not to eye her cleavage. Sarah made a show of listening as she scanned the crowd for familiar faces. After a few minutes she saw Caroline Kittering heading straight for her, bright-eyed and clutching her champagne glass. Her face was pink, possibly from the effects of champagne, possibly because she was kitted out in full Country Casuals rig, wearing a woollen skirt, boots, and a quilted navy gilet over a cashmere jumper.
Sarah excused herself from the Benchers and greeted Caroline, stooping a little, because of the heels, to kiss the air either side of Caroline’s downy cheeks.
Caroline scarcely bothered to return the kiss, but launched straight in. ‘Toby told us the other night about losing his job. It’s simply ghastly. You poor children. Of course, I blame this wretched government.’ She glanced around. ‘Where is Toby? I’ve been looking for him everywhere since we arrived.’ She took a gulp of her champagne. ‘What was he thinking of, letting a whole week go by before telling us?’
‘He probably didn’t want to worry you.’
‘Of course, it means you’ll have to put the wedding back—’
But whatever else Caroline had to say, Sarah wasn’t listening. She had just caught sight of Leo on the far side of the room. He was leaning against a doorway, glass in hand, deep in conversation. The sight of him was a jolt to her senses – the handsome, well-defined features as youthful as ever, his intelligent gaze and the flash of his disarming smile as familiar to her as though she’d last seen him yesterday, rather than four years ago.
She tore her gaze away and tried to pay attention to Caroline.
‘Because,’ Caroline was saying earnestly, ‘who knows how long this recession will last? Toby doesn’t seem to realise that things have changed. He has commitments now.’
‘Don’t you think this is something we should talk about when Toby’s around?’ said Sarah. She glanced again in Leo’s direction. She had to talk to him. He might leave at any minute. The two elderly Benchers were hovering hopefully a little way off. Sarah grabbed Caroline by the elbow and steered her towards them.
‘Caroline, may I introduce you to Mr Justice Waddell and Mr Justice Huntsby-Stevens?’
Having parked Caroline with the Benchers, she made her way quickly through the throng of people to the doorway. But he had disappeared. People were coming and going, but there was no sign of Leo. She felt an unnerving, unexpected sense of panic. Then a voice in her ear said, ‘Hello, young lady.’ She turned, and there he was.
She smiled, intent on remaining cool. ‘Leo. How lovely to see you.’
‘And you. What a long time it’s been.’ He drained his glass of champagne. ‘You look, if I may say so, as lovely as ever.’
‘Thank you.’ She was conscious that her heart was thudding.