Errors of Judgment(74)

Anthony nodded. They gazed at one another, aware of a loss of connection.

Leo rose. ‘I should go. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He paused. ‘Can I give you a lift home?’

‘No thanks. I have some things to do. Papers to look at.’

As he listened to Leo’s footsteps fading on the stairs, Anthony wished he had accepted the lift. He wasn’t seeing Gabrielle till eight. It would have been a chance to rewind the clock, confide in Leo and find some wise counsel. For an instant he almost got up and went after him. But the seconds ticked by, and silence reclaimed the empty chambers. Anthony locked up, and made his way home, glad of the thought of having Gabrielle to take his mind off his problems, even if she couldn’t solve them.

It was ten o’clock when Gabrielle reached across to the bedside table to check the time on her phone. She rolled back to face Anthony. He was lying on the pillow with his hands clasped behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

‘What are you thinking about?’ She traced a line with her finger down his chest, and kissed his shoulder.

He didn’t answer for several seconds, then suddenly turned to her. ‘Sorry – what?’

‘Don’t worry. You were miles away.’ She sat on the edge of the bed, fishing on the floor for her underwear. ‘I have to go. I’ve got an essay to finish.’

‘Will I see you tomorrow?’

‘My parents have some family friends coming for dinner. They asked me to be there. Sorry.’

Anthony got out of bed and pulled on his boxer shorts. He padded to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. When he came back, Gabrielle was dressed. He took her in his arms, stroking her face. ‘It’s weird. I’ve only been seeing you for a couple of weeks, and yet it feels like I’ve known you much longer.’

She gave a crooked little smile. ‘Maybe we met in another life.’ She pulled a brush from her bag and dragged it through her hair. ‘So, what do you plan to do tomorrow night, now that I’m blowing you out? It’s Saturday, after all.’

‘Not sure. Maybe I’ll pop along to Blunt’s. Edward might be there.’

‘As will the lovely Julia, no doubt. She and her husband practically seem to live there.’ Gabrielle turned to a mirror and checked her reflection.

‘I’m not remotely interested in her,’ replied Anthony. ‘As well you know.’

‘But she’s interested in you. Watch yourself.’ She picked up her coat. ‘And don’t gamble too much. You always seem to lose shedloads. I can’t believe you can afford to chuck so much money away.’

When she had gone, Anthony put on some music and tried to clear his mind. With Gabrielle he had been able to forget his anxieties, but now they returned. He thought of the calculations he had done earlier, reckoning up his mortgage, outgoings, chambers’ rent, the cost of the new car he’d recently bought, against his monthly losses. Maybe the answer was just to stop. Just stop, cold. But how would that help? It was a panicky reaction, and the wrong one. Looked at rationally, the losses were only the cumulation of a losing streak. Nothing lasted for ever. What he really needed to do was to stop panicking and be patient. Quitting now would mean losing entirely the possibility of a big win. And really, that was all he needed – just one big, solid win to rebalance everything. Just fifty or seventy-five grand to set him back on an even keel. It was possible. It had happened to him before. And what about that guy who had won a hundred and eighty grand the other night? It would be mad just to stop. The truth was, he didn’t like the idea of giving up his nights at the casino. He enjoyed spending time there, seeing Edward and the new friends he had made lately. The answer was to cut down. Instead of lashing down a few hundred on every bet or poker game, he could bring it down to sensible levels. That was the solution. Thirty or forty pounds could just as easily net him a big win at higher stakes. He liked to think that he was cultivating a better idea of judicious betting. He even had a bit of a system going. It was just a question of hanging in there till his luck turned.

His deliberations had made him feel better about everything. He glanced at his watch. Only half ten. He might as well start his new regime now. He felt happier, could sense luck waiting round the corner for him.

He dressed, left the flat, grabbed a cab, and fifteen minutes late he was in the plush, warm, well-lit womb of the casino.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN




Toby stood at the kitchen window in his parents’ house, a mug of coffee in his hand. His mother’s car drew up, and he watched as she got out and crossed the yard to the house, Scooby bounding at her heels. She came into the kitchen, pulling off her coat, and saw Toby.