Private Lives (66 page)

‘This feels weird, doesn’t it?’ she said.

‘We’ve been for dinner before.’ He glanced at the menu, but his appetite had deserted him.

‘Not like this,’ said Carla. ‘Somehow it feels more grown-up. Like we’ve finally arrived and we’re not just playing catch-up with all these couples who are richer and more successful than we are.’ She looked at him approvingly. ‘I like the new you, Matt Donovan.’

Her bright blue eyes played with his. Even in the early days of their relationship he had known that she was so beautiful and ambitious, she would one day move up and on, to the next better, brighter opportunity. He’d been right, of course, but now it seemed as if he
was
that brighter opportunity. He couldn’t help feeling flattered.

‘Well I’m not sure there is a new me,’ he joked. ‘I have a new job. That’s it. I’m still the same underneath this slightly more expensive suit.’

‘I suppose,’ she said, but her smile told him she didn’t believe a word of it. Suddenly Matt felt awkward under her gaze, as if she was seeing something in him that wasn’t there.

‘So how was Ibiza?’ he said, to change the subject. ‘Fabulous. Except for the terrible brats that came along with the host’s friends, Marc and Lucia Hamilton. Do you know Marc, a hedgie at Solitaire Capital?’

‘Not the circles I move in, I’m afraid.’

‘I’ll introduce you.’ She said it as if it was a done deal.

The sommelier came over with the bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.

‘I ordered some fizz.’

‘Of course.’

Carla leaned forward and touched Matt’s hand.

‘I can’t stop thinking about the other night,’ she whispered, a flirtatious smile on her face. ‘The night before I went to Ibiza. Was it always that good?’

‘I’m sure we had our moments.’ Under the table he could feel her touching his leg with her shoe. He imagined her naked in the media room and sat back in his chair.

‘Don’t be nervous,’ she chided. ‘Although I am too. I feel like a schoolgirl. Who’d have thought it, me and you, giving it another go?’

She announced it, so typically, as if the decision had already been made, and suddenly it was as if a fog had lifted. He took a breath, knowing that the words he was about to say would change the course of not only his life, but also his son’s.

‘I’m not sure we should give it another go, Carla.’

As he swallowed hard, he watched her eyes grow larger. It clearly wasn’t the response she had been expecting.

‘You didn’t seem to think that when you were fucking me by the popcorn machine,’ she hissed.

‘Carla, please,’ said Matt, glancing around at the other tables.

‘And what about Jonas?’ she snapped. ‘Have you thought about him? For three years you’ve been banging on about how Jonas should have a father. I’ve bent over backwards to make sure you have your weekends together. So how come now, given the opportunity to be a family again, you’re running for the hills?’

‘Of course I’ve thought about Jonas,’ said Matt angrily. ‘I want our son to be brought up around love, not around two people who have nothing to say to each other any more.’ He surprised himself that he was quoting his mother’s letter.

Carla looked at him with contempt. ‘What is this, Matt? Some sort of payback? Just because I hurt you once, you’re sticking the knife into me at the first opportunity?’

‘Of course it’s not like that.’

The waiter came over to take their order, but Carla waved him away.

‘You’re a jerk, you know that?’ she snapped, her mouth puckering to nothing. ‘You’ve had every opportunity in life, and you’ve thrown them all away. You could have had a job in the City, but you chose your stupid little practice in Hammersmith. You could have me, and yet . . .’ She stopped, her eyes widening with the thought that had occurred to her. ‘You’ve met someone else, haven’t you? Who is it? A secretary? The office girl? You’re the only man I know who chooses to punch
beneath
his weight.’

‘Carla, I’m not involved with anyone,’ he said firmly. ‘But that’s really not what this is about.’

‘What is it about, then?’ she said, her face sour. ‘Go on, surprise me.’

‘Do you want me, Carla?’ he asked quietly. ‘Do you love me? And I mean
me
, not the shiny new version of me with a great job and money to afford restaurants like this?’ He shook his head. ‘Do you like who I am? Even know who I am? That I like blues guitar and Fulham Football Club. That I spend my Friday nights ordering in the world’s best dumplings from the takeaway on Chiswick High Street. That I come home from work and want to do nothing but read a Robert Ludlum book and listen to Seventies jazz I collect on vinyl.’ He felt a huge wave of relief, knowing he had pinpointed what had always been the problem with his marriage and what he had never wanted to admit. ‘I’m not special, Carla. I’m just an ordinary bloke. This is who I am, but I like who I am, and honestly, if you look inside yourself, I think you want something very different to me. Jonas is all we have in common. I’ve wrestled with it and I’m not sure it’s enough.’

Her beautiful face sneered at him.

‘So that’s what you think?’

He nodded.

‘You’re right. I suppose we should end this charade and let you get back to your Chinese takeaway,’ she said sarcastically.

‘Carla, please . . .’

‘Have a wonderful life, Matt, thinking about what could have been.’

She threw her napkin on to the table and stalked out.

Watching her go, Matt realised that he would always be a little bit in love with her.
In love
. Wasn’t that the thing that everyone aspired to be? But right now, it felt like a shallow, flighty emotion. He desired Carla. He always would. But he didn’t love her. Not any more. He wasn’t even sure he liked her.

He picked up the champagne bottle and filled his glass to the top, knocking it back in long, greedy gulps. He waved for the bill, apologising that they would not be dining tonight after all, and made his way on to the street. A vendor on the corner handed him an
Evening Standard
and he used it to wave down a black cab.

‘Chiswick, please,’ he said, slumping back into the seat.

Relaxing in the creaking plastic, he felt an enormous sense of relief. He would never know if he had done the right thing. One day he might even be able to discuss it with his son. But it felt right. It felt honest.

He unfolded the newspaper on his lap. ‘Sam and Jessica Reunited!’ it announced, above a picture of the celebrity couple. For a minute he forgot about his own dilemma back at the restaurant as he speed-read the short accompanying story.

Poor Anna, he thought, feeling his mouth droop with sadness. She had been out of the office for the last couple of days, but when he had spoken to Liz Hart the previous afternoon – she’d called him to thank him for his contribution to the case – she had told him that Anna had gone to Wiltshire to see Sam Charles.

He looked at the photograph of Sam and Jessica Carr and felt furious. He was glad that Anna wasn’t seeing this silly, shallow sod any more, but the thought that Sam had been cheating on her made him feel mad.

She didn’t deserve that. Not after the office rumours he’d heard. That her ex-boyfriend, the newspaper guy, was marrying her sister. How could anyone handle two slaps in the face like that?

He pulled out his mobile and stared at it for a moment. It felt strange calling up a colleague to ask her about her love life. But he remembered how lonely it could be in those first hours, days of betrayal. When his relationship with Carla had ended, his friends and colleagues had avoided him. ‘We wanted to give you space,’ they later said. But all he had wanted to do when she had left him was talk to someone, and right now, all he wanted to do was check that Anna Kennedy was okay.

Thirty minutes later, the taxi grumbled up to her little whitewashed cottage in Richmond. Matt didn’t need to ask how she was feeling when she answered the door. Dressed in grey marl joggers and a baggy T-shirt with a cartoon pig on the front, she had a sullen ‘who cares?’ manner about her.

‘I hope you like curry,’ she said, gesturing towards the silver cartons on the table. ‘I’m slobbing out with a takeaway.’

‘Perfect,’ said Matt, pulling off his tie. ‘My meal at Claridge’s got aborted.’

‘Not because of me?’ She smiled.

Matt laughed.

‘Now that would be going above and beyond the call of my supervising partner duties.’

‘I thought Helen was my supervising partner?’

‘I’m not sure she’s going to be at the firm much longer,’ said Matt. He gave her a knowing look, and she nodded.

‘What’s going to happen to her?’

‘Let Larry sort it,’ he said quietly.

‘Do you think she’ll go to prison?’

‘If Larry’s got anything to do with it, he’ll arrange something much, much worse.’

‘I should tell Sam about Helen,’ Anna said finally. ‘He’s got a strong case for damages.’

‘That’s big of you. I’m not sure he deserves it.’

‘Sam didn’t deserve to get crucified,’ she said, pouring out two glasses of Pinot and handing him one.

‘So how are you?’ he asked, taking a sip. ‘When did you find out?’ He wasn’t going to let the matter drop.

She spooned out the chicken passanda.

‘Before it was all over the
Standard
, thankfully. I drove to his house yesterday and she was there.’ She stopped, looking down at the table. ‘It seemed a long way home afterwards,’ she said quietly.

‘Did you like him?’

She nodded.

‘Yes. I liked him.’

‘Were you in love with him?’

‘After two weeks? Don’t be daft.’ Her cheeks had gone bright red. ‘Sam’s had a lot of stick, and he brought plenty of it on himself. But I think he’s a decent person underneath it all. I’m just not sure he was the person for me. And I certainly wasn’t the right woman for him.’

‘I’d pick you over Jessica Carr any time.’

He regretted saying it instantly, but it was true.

They clinked glasses and began to drink, sharing stories about their disastrous love lives and other anecdotes from their past, joking at their mistakes and foibles. In the taxi he had felt a bit stupid getting in touch, but now he knew that she welcomed the gesture.

By the time they had finished their curry, Matt realised they were both very drunk. He pointed towards a suitcase that was standing in the corner of the room.

‘Going somewhere?’ he asked playfully.

She looked doubtful.

‘Maybe,’ she replied.

He raised his eyebrows.

‘Maybe?’

‘It’s my sister’s wedding this weekend. I’m sure you know about Sophie and Andy – the whole office seems to – so you can see my dilemma. It would make my mum and dad so happy if I turned up, but I’m not sure I can face looking like such a loser.’

‘You wouldn’t look like a loser.’

‘Right. The sad, single sister at the back who the groom cheated on. I almost had a solution. Sam said he’d come with me, although that’s obviously not happening now. Probably a good thing, mind you. People might have thought I was a right bitch, trying to upstage the bride.’

‘Rubbish. If I had the chance to take Cameron Diaz to a traitorous sibling’s wedding, I’d be there like a shot. Shame I haven’t got any siblings, or Cameron Diaz on my tail, although Erica Sheldon was definitely after me a few weeks ago.’

‘Dream on, Casanova,’ Anna said, laughing. Her T-shirt slipped off one shoulder. Matt suddenly found himself wanting to kiss her there.

‘If you don’t fancy an A-list actor on your arm, what about a slightly going-to-seed solicitor?’

‘Are we talking about Larry here?’

He smiled. ‘Actually, I meant me.’

‘You’d come to Tuscany?’

‘Well it’s Tuscany or watching the cricket with a takeaway.’

‘You do look good in a suit,’ she mused.

‘Glad you think so.’

‘According to the secretaries, who have a sweepstake on who’s going to sleep with you first, you look snappiest in the navy single-breasted.’

‘And I didn’t think they cared.’

She paused.

‘You wouldn’t seriously consider it, would you?’

‘Well, my son’s at a sleepover this weekend. And I
do
need a tan.’ As he looked at her, he could almost feel the adrenalin surging around his body.

Be with the person who makes your heart beat faster. Wasn’t that what his father had told him? Twenty-five years of neglect, then Larry Donovan had come out with a happy life’s most precious secret.

For a moment he thought about his father, and his efforts to make it work with Loralee. The heart wants what it wants, he smiled to himself.

‘I’d love to come with you, Anna.’

‘You’ll never get a flight,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Not at this late notice.’

‘I believe the firm has the most efficient travel agent in the business. An old female friend of Larry’s.’

‘That figures.’

‘Right then,’ said Matt, taking out his phone. ‘Do you think I can get business class on expenses?’

70

Dressed and ready for the day in a pale blue YSL suit, Helen sat in her kitchen looking out of the French windows, her fingers curled around a mug of coffee. She listened to the early morning birdsong, wondering what they were saying to each other. She’d been up since four, watching the night sky fade and turn a muted shade of lavender, rising up over the horizon like a peacock unfolding its tail. The weather was going to be glorious; she didn’t need to watch the weather forecast to know that much: warm and balmy, a beautiful late summer’s day. How ironic, she thought, checking her watch, knowing it was time to leave for Chelsea.

She turned as she heard footsteps. Graham walked in, yawning and ineffectually smoothing down his bedhead hair.

‘Are you going?’

She nodded.

‘Soon.’

Her eyes strayed to the documents sitting on the breakfast bar.

‘Just sign them,’ said Graham quietly.

‘I can’t,’ she replied, closing her eyes, feeling utterly helpless. This was everything she’d ever worked for, and now she was supposed to just sign it all away, surrender her livelihood and her reputation with one sweep of a pen. And yet Larry had made the alternatives very clear indeed. Being struck off the solicitor’s roll, perhaps a spell in an open prison somewhere, spending her days reminiscing with all the other unlucky lags who had pushed the boat out too far.