Downsizing (12 page)

The days had been full, passing quickly. It
was only at night that Maxine, lying in bed but too tired to sleep,
found her mind dwelling upon Noah’s betrayal. The clamp that had
suppressed her feelings had relaxed its hold sufficiently for her
to take pleasure in simple things. The children, Jesus College, the
increasingly long bike rides she took when exploring the
Cambridgeshire countryside, sometimes alone but often with the
children in tow. But whenever her mind drifted back to Noah, the
freeze returned.

It was over three weeks now since Cassie had
so casually dropped her devastating bombshell, and not one tear had
she shed during all that time. Sometimes that worried her. She knew
it wasn’t natural and retrieved his picture from beneath the pile
of books where she’d hidden it, propping it beside her bed so she
couldn’t avoid looking at it. But even that torture hadn’t produced
the reaction she’d been hoping for. She stared for hours at a time
at his image, hating him for what he’d done to her but unable to
stop loving him.

She felt better now that she knew the truth
about his relationship with Cassie, but still the tears wouldn’t
come. Maxine, who never had a bad word to say for anyone, calmly
accepted that she hated Cassie Turner for what she’d done to Noah.
She nurtured that hatred, reveling in the feeling as it spread
through her body with a speed she didn’t attempt to check. The
prospect of one day extracting revenge was the only thing that kept
her from falling apart.

Chapter Nine

Cassie and Noah had been married for a month,
but unexpected delays meant that Broad Street wasn’t yet ready and
they were still camping out with the Turners. Noah survived it by
being there as little as possible. He left home at first light and
didn’t come back until as late as ten o’clock some nights, dropping
with fatigue but determined to remain positive about his various
projects.

Mrs. Turner complained, unable to understand
why she should cook for him if he couldn’t make time to eat with
them, but Noah pointed out to Cassie that she couldn’t have it both
ways. One moment his mother-in-law was accusing him of being a
free-loader, the next she was complaining because he worked too
hard.

He paused in his labors, wiped sweat from his
brow, glanced at his watch, and swore. He’d really like to stay and
finish studding this new wall, but Mrs. Turner had insisted upon
throwing a party for the newlyweds, presumably because she was
terrified that it would look as though she didn’t approve if she
didn’t mark the occasion in style. Tonight he and Cassie would
greet two hundred guests, most of them strangers to him. It would
be a massive waste of time.

When Noah got back to the Turners’ place, even
he was impressed by the sight of the tent that had been erected in
the garden, enclosing the swimming pool. With the underwater lights
on, thousands of fairy lights adorning the walls of the tent, and
candles flickering on every surface, it looked classy.

The tables were beautifully set with white
linen, sparkling crystal glasses, and elaborate flower arrangements
in their centers. Professional caterers were hard at work, and a
live band would provide music for them to dance the night away. No
expense had been spared, and everything was being done in the best
of taste. Cassie and her mother, aided and abetted by Charles’s
money, had seen to that.

“
Darling, where have you been?”
Cassie asked as he entered their bedroom. “The guests will be
arriving soon.” She reached up and pecked his cheek, careful to
avoid his dusty clothing.

“
It’s only half seven, and it
won’t take me ten minutes to shower and change.” He looked her over
and grinned. “You look nice. Going anywhere special?”

She punched his arm playfully. “Hurry up and
get ready, darling. I can’t wait to show you off to
everyone.”

“
In a minute, but I’ve got great
news to share with you first.”

“
Really.” She pursed her lips and
applied another coat of gloss to them. “What is it?”

“
Well, providing the Building
Inspectors pass the latest works, then I think we’ll be able to
move into our own place in just a couple more weeks.”

“
Oh,” she said absently, idly
fiddling with a stray strand of hair. “Where?”

He glowered but she was still examining her
face and didn’t appear to notice. “Where did you imagine?” he
asked, his voice unnaturally low.

“
Well, it’s funny you should say
that, but Mummy and I looked at one of the new flats in the old
grange grounds the other day, and they’re simply fantastic! One on
the ground floor would be perfect for us and the baby. I can’t wait
to show you.”

“
Actually, I was referring to the
apartment on Broad Street that I’ve been working my nuts off to
prepare for us,” he said, walking into the bathroom and slamming
the door.

“
Noah, wait. Darling, I didn’t
mean that we shouldn’t live there, it’s just that—”

She tried to follow him, but he locked the
door and leaned against it, so furious that he was afraid of what
he might do to her at that precise moment if she came anywhere near
him. This marriage was even more of a fucking sham that he’d
realized. Cassie never had the slightest intention of living on
Broad Street; she’d just made that patently obvious.

Noah moved away from the door and switched on
the shower, breathing deeply to control his anger. He’d have to
show up at this party, go through the motions or incur the wrath of
his mother-in-law and cause Charles embarrassment that he didn’t
deserve. But that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. As for
Cassie…well, he’d have it out with her later.

An hour later all the guests had arrived and
Cassie was swamped with people keen to admire her outfit, or ask
intrusive questions about her sudden marriage. Noah was besieged by
women who seemed undeterred by his marital status. Bored with the
entire affair, he snatched a moment alone and stood on the side
lines, aware of Graham Spiller shooting glances of pure vitriol in
his direction.

Graham had been devastated when Cassie
blithely informed him—probably with as much sensitivity as she’d
shown when confronting Maxine—that she was marrying Noah. He was
still a close confidant of Cassie’s mother, and Noah suspected that
the two of them were closing ranks against him—much good it would
do them. For all his influence, there was nothing Spiller could do
to hurt him.

He suspected him of starting a whispering
campaign, suggesting that Noah had exploited Cassie in order to get
close to Charles and benefit from his connections, but he wasn’t
too bothered about it. If anyone in their marriage was guilty of
manipulation, it sure as hell wasn’t him.

He experienced a moment’s anxiety when Spiller
drifted up to Ryan Watts and started a conversation. Watts and
Spiller were unlikely bed-fellows, and Spiller wouldn’t normally
instigate a conversation with someone he considered to be his
social inferior unless he had an ulterior motive. At that moment
Kitty joined Noah. They fell into one of their easy conversations,
but the disquiet that gripped him as he watched his boss and
Spiller, still with their heads together, casting frequent
speculative glances in his direction, lingered.

* * * *

At the end of her first week as an
undergraduate, Maxine felt as though she’d well and truly come
home. The powers that be hadn’t made a mistake; this was where she
belonged. Her fellow law students were an eclectic mix, united by
their alarming air of self-assuredness. They were the elite of the
elite, but she was every bit as worthy as they were. She had earned
her place among them on merit, and refused to feel intimidated,
secure in the knowledge that she was now in a place where her size
wouldn’t count against her.

Maxine covertly examined her fellow students
as they crowded into a lecture hall, anxious about their
introduction to the delightful world of tort. She knew natural
leaders would emerge, and by the end of that first week she saw it
starting to happen.

Lance McFee was raffishly good-looking and
exuded an air of self-assurance that left the rest of them in the
shade. He spoke with a distinct upper class accent, but from his
hesitant performances when called upon in lectures she suspected
that his mind might not be as sharp as some of the other
freshmen’s. Cynically, she wondered if he owed his place here to
influence asserted by his obviously well-connected family. If she
was right about his inferior brain, it would explain why he
appeared intent upon persuading some of the more obviously able
students to join him in a study group.

“
Miss Small, are you able to
define the meaning of tort for us?”

Maxine blushed, grateful that everyone else
was too scared that they might be the professor’s next victim to do
anything other than glance at her with sympathy.

“
Well, Miss Small,” said the
professor, tapping his fingers impatiently. “We’re
waiting.”

“
Sorry professor,” she mumbled,
her head still bowed. “Tort is a legal term—”

“
We can’t hear you, Miss Small.
Speak up, do. I’m sure we’re all anxious to benefit from your
expertise.”

Irritated by his sarcasm, Maxine rose to the
occasion. “Tort is a legal term that means a civil, as opposed to
criminal wrong,” she said in a voice that rang clear round the
auditorium.

“
If it’s not a criminal offense,
what grounds are there in law to right that wrong?”

“
A civil wrong is recognized in
law as grounds for a lawsuit. Unlike voluntarily assumed
obligations on the parties created through a contract, the duties
imposed under tort law are mandatory for all citizens in that
jurisdiction.”

“
Give me an example of tortious
behavior,” he snapped, giving her no credit for her near
word-perfect answer.

“
A person acts tortiously when he
harms other people’s bodies, property, or legal rights.”

“
Or?” prompted Professor
Makepeace.

Maxine, who had exhausted her limited
knowledge on the subject, shook her head.

“
Anybody?” he asked in a tone that
implied he couldn’t believe what a bunch of dimwits he’d been
landed with.

“
Or when they breach a duty owed
under statutory law,” said the person sitting a few places away
from Maxine.

“
Thank you, Mr. Toomey,” said the
professor with feeling.

Maxine was incensed. She’d answered virtually
his whole question, without so much as a
well done
. But
presumably because he was a man—a slim, personable man—this Toomey
person got all the credit for remembering the one tiny point that
had slipped her mind. Perhaps things weren’t going to be so
different here after all. She turned toward the man in question and
scowled. He shrugged and spread his hands apologetically, his
good-natured expression causing her anger to slip away.

“
And so, ladies and gentlemen,
that concludes this first insight into the complex world of tort.
It’s a minefield of conflicting elements ready to catch the
unprepared lawyer off guard. Remember that. The foundation of labor
law in the modern welfare state also begins with tort, as a means
to mitigate conflictual relations between unions and employers. The
scope of tort law’s application spreads every day. Does anyone know
what Lord MacMillan had to say in tort’s most famous
case?”

Only Maxine raised her hand. Professor
Makepeace ignored her and waited in ominous silence for anyone else
to hazard a guess.

“
Well, Miss Small,” he eventually
said. “Perhaps you’d care to enlighten us.”

“
I think he said that the
categories of negligence are never closed.”

“
Indeed he did.”

So saying, Professor Makepeace turned on his
heel and swept regally from the hall.

Maxine heard Lance suggest to his inner circle
that they retire to the student bar to kick-start the weekend. He’d
been the recipient of a scathing retort from Makepeace during the
lecture that made his response to Maxine seem like rarefied praise
by comparison. His gaze briefly fell upon Maxine, almost as though
weighing up what use he could make of her. With an imperceptible
shake of his head, as though there was only so much latitude a man
could be expected to give, he excluded her from the invitation and
herded his party through the door.

Used to being a victim of sizism, Maxine
refused to let the incident spoil her first week. She didn’t dwell
upon Professor Makepeace’s obvious dislike for her, either. She’d
just prepare extra vigilantly for his lectures and rise to the
challenge. She was so wrapped up in thought that she didn’t realize
someone was speaking to her until a man’s voice addressed her by
name.

“
Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, turning
round so quickly that she knocked all her books on the floor.
“Damn!”

“
Here,” said a laughing voice.
“Let me help you.”

It was Gregory Toomey, the guy whom Makepeace
had heaped praise upon. Maxine examined him as they both crouched
to pick up her books. She was too embarrassed by her clumsiness for
it to register that she
could
actually crouch nowadays,
thanks to all that cycling.