‘I haven’t – Jamie has. I’ve had just one small Scotch in the past three hours. I was waiting for you.’ He put his arms around Sarah. He looked into her eyes for a second, then kissed her. ‘Thank you for the book.’
‘Thank you for the necklace. You have very good taste.’
There wasn’t much he could say to this, since he had in fact asked Felicity to go to Tiffany’s online, choose something in the £800 to £1,000 price range that she liked, and buy two on his credit card.
‘There’s a bottle of champagne in the fridge. Why don’t we open it, and take it up to bed? Unless you’re too tired, of course.’
Sarah wanted to ask him why he was doing this. Did he really think he could just take and leave her as he pleased? No doubt his girlfriend was busy elsewhere, and Sarah herself was here and, as he no doubt presumed, available.
Leo gazed into her eyes, trying to read her thoughts. She was always marvellously inscrutable, but in this moment she possessed an air of remoteness which he had never detected before. It made her even more desirable than usual.
They looked into one another’s eyes, neither of them able to say what they felt, because neither properly understood what it was.
He tried to lift the mood, prompting her. ‘This is where I say, “I’ll get the champagne”, and you say, “I’ll see you upstairs”.’
She smiled sadly. ‘I don’t think so, Leo.’ She drew away from him. ‘It’s simply not that easy.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’m not … I’m not actually the person you want me to be any more.’ She crossed the hall. At the foot of the stairs she turned to him. ‘I think it’s best if I leave tomorrow. I’ll stay with my father until I move into my new flat.’
She disappeared upstairs. Leo was left wondering how this had happened, what had extinguished the spark between them. After Jamie had fallen asleep he had spent a long time thinking about her, about what she meant to him. Tonight he had been going to suggest that she shouldn’t leave, that she should stay until she got over Toby, and that they should see what they could find together. But that, it seemed, was never what she had wanted.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The new year crept in, and London came sluggishly to life after the long break. Commuters from the suburbs filled the trains once more, spilling out of the stations and into their offices, offering each other listless new year greetings. The wheels of commerce gradually picked up their pace, and the City hummed once more.
Felicity, to her amazement, had heard nothing from Vince. Optimism gave her confidence, and a few days into the new year she was confiding the whole saga to Carla, the office manager, over early morning coffee in the clerks’ room. Turning Vince into an anecdote was a way of consigning him safely to the past.
‘And the neighbours said he and his mates turned up that night absolutely hammered, and started trying to break the door down.’
‘No!’
‘I know. Just as well I’d gone to stay with my friend Maureen. She put me up for a couple of nights.’
‘I don’t blame you. Sounds a nasty piece of work.’
Felicity dunked a Hobnob. ‘Not nasty as such. Just a bit aggressive when he’s had a few. A big, silly useless waste of space the rest of the time.’
‘I know a lot of men like that.’
‘Men like what?’ asked Henry, who had just come in, his first day back after a two-week Christmas break in Tenerife with Cheryl and her family.
‘Like Vince. Good-for-nothing layabouts. I was just telling Carla, I finally kicked him out. Changed the locks.’ Felicity dusted her hands together. ‘Boom. Gone. Never to be seen or heard of again.’
‘Congratulations,’ said Henry.
‘Now you’re footloose and fancy-free,’ said Carla, ‘we should arrange a girls’ night out. Maybe next—’ Her phone began to ring.
Felicity turned to Henry. ‘So, how was your holiday? Feeling all loved up? You’ve got a bit of a tan.’
‘Bit of red, more like.’ He skipped her question. It had been a revealing experience, being on holiday with Cheryl, her parents, and her sister. Cheryl, he had realised, was very like her mother. It wasn’t hard to imagine Cheryl, much as he loved her, or thought he did, as she would be at fifty-seven. ‘What about you? How was your Christmas? Apart from Vince, I mean.’
‘Yeah, not bad. I went to my cousin Trish’s for Christmas Day. She and her husband Ian have got four-year-old twins. My aunt and uncle were there, too. We had a lovely time. And I went out a bit, couple of parties, few pubs and that. Trouble was, everywhere I went I was looking over my shoulder in case Vince was there. But I think he’s got the message.’