Errors of Judgment(76)

‘Not now, Mummy,’ said Toby brusquely. ‘I think I’ll take Scoobs for a walk.’

Jonathan sat down at the kitchen table. ‘I have to talk to Vivian, obviously.’

‘And say what, exactly? That Sarah has behaved appallingly? I should think he must be heartily ashamed of her.’ Caroline sipped her tea, and added, ‘That’s assuming he knows.’

‘Sarah must have told him, surely?’

Caroline shrugged. ‘Who knows? I should wait until he rings you. In the circumstances, it’s really up to him.’

‘I suppose. I’ll give it till Wednesday. But if he hasn’t been in touch by then, I shall have to call him.’

That Wednesday, Sir Vivian spent the hours between ten and two at the London Library, engaged in research for his new book, a history of the Cambridge Apostles. When he got back to his Westminster flat he felt he had pretty much earned an afternoon in front of the telly. He put on his slippers, toasted and buttered some crumpets, poured himself a glass of beer, and settled down on the sofa to watch the racing from Uttoxeter, the phone by his side so that he could ring his bookmaker if the urge overtook him. He had just taken one bite of crumpet and a sip of beer, when the phone rang.

‘Buggeration,’ he muttered. He hesitated, wondering whether to bother, then pressed the ‘mute’ button on the remote and picked up the phone.

He recognised Jonathan’s voice at once. ‘Jonathan, my dear fellow. You’ve just caught me putting my feet up, watching the racing. How can I help?’

‘Vivian, I’m sorry to disturb your afternoon, but I had to call you. Toby came to see us a couple of days ago.’ A brief silence elapsed. ‘He and Sarah have broken off their engagement.’

‘What?’

‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I would have thought Sarah might have told you. It happened over a week ago.’

‘She hasn’t said a thing.’ Sir Vivian tried to quell his alarm with words of reassurance. ‘Probably because it isn’t as serious as you think. You know what young people are like. It’s probably just a trivial tiff.’

‘I really think it’s more than that.’ Jonathan spoke his next words with evident difficulty. ‘Apparently Sarah has gone to live with another man.’

‘What?’

‘His name is Leo Davies. Toby thinks it’s possible she’s been seeing him for a while.’

The spark of instinctive concern Sir Vivian had felt for his daughter on the news of the break-up was immediately extinguished. Shame and anger washed over him. He recalled Grand Night, the conversation he had overheard. Sarah had been with him that very evening. How could she do this to Toby – to everyone? ‘Jonathan, the girl has taken leave of her senses. She adores Toby. I’m sure there must be some explanation, some way of sorting this out.’

‘From the way Toby was speaking, I don’t think there’s any way back. We may just have to accept it.’

There was a long pause before Sir Vivian spoke. ‘I cannot find words at the moment, Jon. You must let me speak to Sarah.’

‘As you wish, Vivian. As you wish. We are so sorry – about all of it.’

When the conversation had ended, Sir Vivian was in no mood for beer or crumpets. He rang Sarah’s mobile, but it went straight to voicemail. He left a message asking her to ring him as a matter of urgency.

Sarah didn’t pick up her father’s message until the following morning, as she was leaving the offices of an insurance company in Lombard Street where she’d been for a job interview. A few days earlier she had made a tentative approach to her ex-boss, Hugo, and found his wrath had cooled to the point where he was prepared to write her a reference – albeit a fairly equivocal one. As he himself had said, if every person in the City who’d ever screwed up was never able to work again, most major financial institutions would be in a state of collapse. The interview had gone well; Sarah was one on a shortlist of three, and instinct told her she had it in the bag. With any luck, by New Year she would be back in work.

When she switched on her phone and heard the message from her father, she guessed that he had heard at last about her split with Toby. It had been a calculated decision not to tell him, to let him hear the news from the Kitterings. Since the tone of his message had been irate rather than sorrowful, she assumed he also knew that she was living with Leo. She stopped outside the entrance to Cannon Street station, about to call him back, when she thought better of it. She would go and see him instead.

Fifteen minutes later she emerged from Westminster tube station and made her way to her father’s house near Smith Square. When he opened the door, Sir Vivian’s expression was one of surprise, and then gloom.