Almost a Crime (34 page)

at swimming.

‘I think you’re so very good about it,’ her father was

saying now. ‘These endless absences. Of course some are

inevitable, but in Tom’s case it seems to be extreme,

always—’

‘Daddy,’ she said, ‘please. Not now. Let’s have a nice

evening. I’ve bought the entire meal from Marks and

Spencer: honey-baked salmon, rocket salad, Pavlova, all

your favourites.’

‘How sweet you are, darling, to remember,’ he said,

unpacking two bottles of wine from a coolbag, ‘and I’ve

brought some wine, I hope you’ll have a glass at least. I chilled them before I left.’

He followed her into the kitchen, opened one of the

bottles, poured two glasses.

‘To us, sweetheart,’ he said, coming over to her, handing

her a glass, giving her a kiss. ‘Isn’t this lovely, just the two of

us, like old times?’

‘To us,’ said Octavia, carefully ignoring the second half

of his speech; ‘Thank you, Daddy. It’s lovely to see you.

Lovely. Look, sit down, and I’ll serve the salad. Parmesan?’

‘Thank you. You do look tired, Octavia. Very tired. I

wish you’d take me up on my offer of a holiday.’

‘Well, I might. A bit later on.’

‘Good. Now then, tell me about this client you’ve lost.’

‘It isn’t exactly my client,’ she said, and started on the

saga of Barries Wood.

‘Mummy, how could you? How could you?’

‘How could I what, darling?’ said Marianne. She was

tired and slightly fractious; she had slept badly, having come

in very late from her dinner, had somehow managed not to

allow Nico to do more than kiss her once in the car on the

way home, had sat determinedly far from him, discomfited

by his patent amusement; even so, when they reached

Eaton Square she was in a state of such suppressed sexual

arousal that when he did kiss her goodnight, lightly, gently

on the mouth at first, then slowly, deliberately sinking his

lips on to hers, moving his tongue with appalling confidence

into her mouth, she had found herself responding

with rather distressing enthusiasm, had finally pulled away

and hurried out of the car, praying the children would all be

in bed. Another absurd piece of role reversal, she had

thought, half shocked, half amused at herself.

Earlier, before her meeting with Choice, she had phoned

Felix, enquired after Octavia, and made it plain that should

he wish at least to see her over the weekend, she would be

available. When he said he had made other plans now, she had put the phone down, annoyed again, so that now she was in no mood for teenage hostility.

‘I just think it was so mean, not telling me about the offer

of the contract with the cosmetic company. You had no

right to keep it from me!’

‘Romilly, you are only fifteen years old. Of course I was

going to tell you about it. But I had to discuss it with Daddy

first, decide what would be best.’

‘Without discussing it with me? You always say we should discuss everything. That it’s the only way to run a family. Everything: holidays, exams, where we all might

want to go to college. Suddenly it’s different. Why? Well, I

think I know,’ said Romilly and the expression in her green

eyes was contemptuous. ‘You never wanted me to hear

about this because it wouldn’t be good for me or

something. You thought you could decide, without ever

telling me about it. Because of course I’d want to do it. Of

course I do. Who wouldn’t?’

‘Romilly, you haven’t even got the contract yet! There

are some Americans coming over on Tuesday to talk about

it.’

‘Yes. With me. Not just you. Mummy, I am not a child,

you know. In three months I’ll be sixteen. I’ve won this

competition on my own. You had nothing to do with it.

Sorry. So you really have to let me follow it through. And if

you don’t want me to go on Tuesday, that’s tough. Because

I’m going. I know where it is and when, and unless you

shut me in my room, which of course you wouldn’t, you

can’t stop me. Good night. Sweet dreams,’ she added,

purely out of habit. But she didn’t lean forward to give her

mother the usual bedtime kiss. It was the first time ever.

And it hurt Marianne more than anything she could ever

remember.

‘So,’ Octavia said, finally, sipping at her virtually untouched

chardonnay. ‘That’s it. What’s your reaction?’

‘I’m not sure,’ said Felix. ‘It was a little foolish. Reckless

even. Very bad for Tom’s business.’

She looked at. him, startled. If he thought that, showed even a sign of criticising her, what she had done was clearly

very bad indeed. Alarm lurched in her guts.

‘It will do you no good either, in your own business, if

you’re seen to be acting without proper consideration.’

‘But, Daddy, I was. I was putting my money where my

mouth is. If you like.’

‘Where Tom’s mouth is, I would venture to suggest.

How did he take it?’

‘He was pretty cross.’

‘I’m not surprised. Not businesslike, Octavia, not businesslike

at all.’

She wondered what his reaction would have been, had

he known part at least of her reason for doing what she had.

Briefly, momentarily, she was tempted to tell him, but with

all her fierce hatred of Tom, she still shrank from the

thought of how her father might react, what he would do.

‘Well,’ he said, swift to forgive her as always, ‘I admire

you at least for having the courage to stand up and be

counted. You’ve lost Carlton as a patron, presumably?’

“Fraid so,’ she said, flinching even in retrospect from the

cold fury in Michael Carlton’s voice earlier that day as he

informed her their agreement was terminated, that he had

no desire to have any dealings with her in any way,

professionally or otherwise, from now on. ‘Although it

seems you have absolutely no concept of what the word

professional means,’ he had said and put the phone down.

‘And how did Melanie feel about that?’

‘She was great. She even said she admired me for what

I’d done. I don’t think she was entirely happy to have

Carlton as a sponsor anyway. Given that he was a client of

Tom’s. Bit too incestuous.’

‘She certainly seemed to be taking care of you very

competently the other day. When you were so upset.’

‘Yes,’ said Octavia quickly. ‘Yes, she was great.’

‘So, another client. Two in a week. She must be very, how did you once describe her? Tough.’

‘Two? I haven’t lost another client,’ she said, forgetting

briefly that had been her explanation for her hysteria.

‘You told me you had,’ he said, and his brilliant dark eyes

on her were very fierce, very probing. ‘You told me that’s

why you were crying. Was that not the real reason,

Octavia, because—’

‘Oh, Daddy, of course it was.’ Panic filled her. ‘Sorry, I

wasn’t thinking. No, that was exactly what was upsetting

me, the Carlton thing. I felt so stupid, so ashamed, Tom

had been so angry, I just — freaked out. Now look, let’s

forget all that, I’ve got something else to tell you. Anna

Madison is terribly ill. She has cancer of the liver, no hope

at all. She has only a few weeks to live apparently. I feel so

upset about it and poor Louise is distraught

‘We’ve only got this place for another week,’ said Ian, ‘then

we’ll have to move on. But I got another one for us. Very

nice indeed. Up Kennington way, in a square. They’ve

gone away, like the other two. Very considerate of them.

Lovely big bed. And a very good cellar. We’ll be very

happy there.’

‘Oh, good,’ said Zoe.

She was tired; it was already four, and they’d not got

home till after two the night before. She’d found it quite

hard to respond tonight to the sex, brilliant as it had been;

she’d actually had to fake an orgasm, just to get a bit of

peace. She was surprised how easy it had been; he had been

completely deceived.

‘Right. Well, look, I’ll just have a quick fag, and then

we’ll go. Okay?’

‘Sure.’

He smoked a lot, and she didn’t mind that, she did herself

whenever she could; but she didn’t like the way he smoked

the Maldives’ cigarettes. He had stopped even pretending to

put them back; said they’d never miss them.

‘Don’t do that, Ian,’ she said sharply, as he flicked the ash

straight down on to the carpet.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Zo. What’s the matter with you? Is this your house? Your carpet?’

‘No, but—’

‘Well, fucking leave off, then.’

‘Sorry,’ said Zoe.

‘There was something else,’ said Octavia to Tom at

breakfast, as they sat with their children, fighting to be

pleasant, courteous, even to smile occasionally.

‘Yes?’ He looked exhausted, had clearly not slept. Good.

‘I shall be seeing Lauren Bartlett this morning,’ she said,

‘when I take Poppy over. She’ll want to know about next

week, our dinner. What do you want me to say?’

She had expected him to tell her to cancel it, but he said,

‘Do whatever you like. I don’t care. I’ll be there, if you

want me to. It’s a business arrangement. No point both of

us going down. If you want me to join you and the

Bartletts, I will. Now I have to go. I’ll drop Gideon off at

cricket. As I said.’ He got up, kissed her briefly on the top

of her head.

Feeling the children’s eyes on them both she struggled to

smile at him. ‘Good luck today.’

‘Thanks. Come on, Gideon, get your stuff, I need to go.

And Poppy, you have fun. Don’t try and fly the plane quite

by yourself, will you?’

‘Thanks, Daddy. See you tonight?’

‘Of course. Although I might be late.’

‘So might I!’

When they had gone, and Poppy had gone upstairs to

change, Octavia phoned Louise at Rookston; she wasn’t

there, Janet said, had gone home to Cheltenham for a few

days.

Sandy answered the phone. ‘Hallo, Octavia. How are

you?’ His voice was hearty, cheerful as always.

‘Fine, Sandy, thanks. Is Louise there?’

‘She certainly is. I’ll go and find her.’

‘Thanks, Sandy.’

Louise sounded very tired. ‘Hallo, Boot.’

‘I just rang to see how your mother was.’

‘Oh, pretty bad.’ Louise sighed. ‘The doctor says she’s

going down very fast. I’m going back there tomorrow,

when I’ve sorted poor Sandy out. He’s been so wonderful.’

‘When can I come, Louise? To see her again? I don’t

want to — you know, to …’

‘Miss saying goodbye, you mean? No, of course not.

Well, sooner rather than later. If you can manage it.’

Octavia felt the same stab of hurt and injustice as she had

the week before. It hadn’t been her putting the visit off. She

said so.

‘I know, Boot, I’m sorry. Look, how about Wednesday,

Thursday?’

‘Thursday,’ said Octavia. ‘I’ll come about lunchtime. If

that’s all right?’

‘Of course. Wonderful. Thank you. She’ll be so pleased.’

‘We’d like to help,’ David Jackson was saying. ‘We do like

to support our customers through both the good times and

the bad.’ Not true, thought Aubrey, only the good. ‘But we

really have pushed the boat out as far as we can, in this

instance. Frankly, your record and your prospects simply do

not justify extensive further borrowing. And to be honest

with you, I don’t think you would thank us in the long run

for enabling you to increase your debts to any significant

extent. At this moment in time …’ He paused, looked at

them almost hopefully, as if expecting gratitude.

‘What about insignificantly?’ said Tom. ‘Are you prepared

to make any concessions at all?’

‘Ah. Well, we are prepared to increase your borrowing

for the foreseeable future by ten thousand pounds. That is

to say, the further loan that I agreed last Friday. But no

more, I’m afraid. That should help you with your

immediate problems.’

‘Yes, of course, but longterm, it won’t be nearly

sufficient.’

‘I realise that.’ A long silence.

‘Any suggestions?’ said Tom.

David Jackson looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, could I

suggest you take out second mortgages on your houses? In

that instance, the bank would—’

‘We’ve already done that,’ said Tom.

‘Ah. Yes, I see.’ David Jackson gave him a look; Tom

realised he had never known quite what the phrase ‘naked

pity’ meant before that moment. ‘Another option would be

to take in a third partner, who would make an advance of,

say, the hundred thousand you are looking for, in return for

a third share in the equity. If these projections of yours are

correct, the company has huge potential. I’m sure you

would have no difficulty finding an investor on that basis.’

Bastard, thought Tom. Fucking bastard. ‘What about the

investment arm of this bank?’ he said, forcing an element of

courtesy into his voice. ‘Or any investment bank? Any

possibility there?’

‘Unlikely. They’re really not interested in investing

anything less than a million. Not worth it to them, you see.

There is just one other avenue you might find it worth

exploring.’