Errors of Judgment(65)

She lowered the magazine. ‘Leo?’

‘Mmhm?’

‘I need to ask you something.’

Leo lifted his head from the sports section and gazed at her enquiringly.

‘Well, just before Toby lost his job, I gave up the lease on my flat and moved into his place in Docklands. The idea was that we would live there till we found a house. The thing is …’ She paused, and poured more coffee. ‘Once I’ve told him that the wedding’s off, obviously I can’t go on living in his flat.’

‘Obviously.’

‘And I’ll have nowhere to go.’

Leo sipped his coffee. ‘Can’t you rent somewhere else?’

‘That’s just it. I can’t. Not for a while, at any rate. You see, I lost my job, too.’

Leo was surprised. ‘How did you manage that?’

‘Credit crunch. It’s been bad for everyone. So …’ she added quickly, before he could say anything, ‘I was wondering if I could stay here for a while. It wouldn’t be for long. I should find another job pretty soon.’ She crossed her fingers under the table and gazed at him, waiting.

Leo was silent as he considered this. He could see advantages. Since the demise of his relationship with Anthea, the house could sometimes seem lonely in the evenings, even when he had work to do. The company of someone as intelligent, amusing and sexually stimulating as Sarah was quite an appealing prospect. He liked the idea – but it would have to be strictly on a short-term basis. However sweetly she might smile at him over the freshly squeezed orange juice, however delightful sharing a bed with her might be, she was bound to bring trouble in the long run. She always did. Plus, there was a risk he would get bored. He didn’t want to find Sarah boring, ever.

As if reading his thoughts, she added, ‘It could be like that first summer. A few weeks of mutual enjoyment, I perform a spot of cooking and housekeeping while I look for another job, then we both go our own sweet ways.’

Leo folded the paper. ‘On that basis – and it would have to be on that basis, mind – I’ll say yes. Though you’ll have to make yourself scarce on the weekends Oliver comes to stay. He gets my undivided attention. And you know what Rachel is like.’

‘Not a problem. Thanks, Leo.’ She stretched her arms languidly above her head, then picked up her magazine, sipped her coffee, and resumed reading.

Leo marvelled at her cat-like serenity, and the apparent ease with which she was discarding what should have been the most important relationship of her life. However well he might know her, he would never properly understand her. He was suddenly conscious that the music from the radio was some unpleasantly insistent rap.

‘What station is that?’ he asked.

Sarah looked up. ‘XFM.’

‘Right. Well, that has to go for a start.’

‘OK, boss.’ Sarah got up and padded over to the radio, and switched it to Radio 3, smiling to herself.

The following morning in Brixton, the breakfast scene was less appetising. Felicity woke in a mucky tangle of sheets with a splitting headache and a mouth that felt like the bottom of a birdcage. She pulled herself to the edge of the bed, grasped the tumbler of water from the bedside table with a shaky hand, and drained it. She lay for a few moments with her forehead pressed to the pillow. Why had she gone with Vince to that club? Why had she let him persuade her to drop those pills, and then smoke dope on top of it all? Then there had been the vodka when they got home … She hauled herself slowly out of bed, and found her robe under a pile of other clothes at the foot of the bed. She hadn’t done any washing in a week. She uncrumpled it and put it on, then wandered through to the kitchen, where she could hear the radio blasting, feeling shivery and sick.

Vince was sitting at the table in his boxers, eating leftover pizza from a cardboard box and drinking a can of lager.

‘Jesus, Vince – how can you?’ Felicity went to the sink to fill the kettle.

‘Hair of the dog, sweetheart.’ He turned and glanced at her as she stood hunched over the sink. ‘Feeling a bit rough?’

‘Rough’s not the word.’

She stood blankly by the sink, staring out at the white December sky, filled with familiar feelings of self-reproach, but too hungover to care. She was aware of Vince dropping the empty pizza box down beside the overflowing swing-top bin. He stood behind her, running his hands around her body, nuzzling her shoulder. She wasn’t so hungover that she couldn’t feel instantly randy when he put his hands on her.

‘Come on back to bed,’ he murmured, fondling her through her robe.

She turned and kissed him. His mouth tasted of lager, but she didn’t care. She probably tasted worse, and he didn’t seem to mind. Her mind and body took comfort in the feel and touch of him. Sex, the great healer. They would go back to bed for an hour or so, keep the reality of Sunday at bay for a little while longer. But then, Felicity decided, they would make something civilised of the day.