Still Thinking of You (23 page)

‘Yes?’ Lloyd gently prompted.

‘So I gave her a tip. I knew of this smallish IT company that was going to float. You know, when I did it, I didn’t think it was going to mean much. It was like passing on a good horse bet. I thought she’d make a couple of grand. Just enough for her to hold her head up high when she arrived at her family’s door. I could have written her a cheque.’ Ted shook his head. ‘She made over 200,000 in a week. I thought she was going to buy fifty-odd shares. She hardly had any money to invest. But she passed on the tip to her bloody brother and his greedy family. Between them they made a tidy sum. Even then it wouldn’t have mattered, except that she rang her local newspaper and told them what a lovely boy I was, to help her out in this way. Of course, she had no understanding of the consequences of her actions, but she mentioned my name and my company’s name. One of the national papers picked up the story and ran a column. Just a space filler, really. Didn’t name me, but they did mention my company again, and the name Miss Hollingson. They made more of it than there was. Tried to paint me as a modern-day Robin Hood. Sounds heroic, except Robin Hood is best known for robbing the rich and my job is… was… to make the rich richer. My old bosses are very hot on following their own PR. They employ people to track exactly what is written about them across the globe, so they soon spotted the story. It wasn’t difficult to trace Miss Hollingson back to me. They were looking for people to let go. They needed to cut their workforce by 22 per cent. I handed them an excuse and allowed them to avoid the cool million pay-off. Which, you so rightly point out, is often necessary. My desk was cleared within twenty minutes, and I was escorted off the premises by an armed guard.’

‘Armed guard?’

‘Stupidly over the top – they like the theatre,’ Ted sighed.

Lloyd could only imagine the humiliation. He battled to be positive. He couldn’t believe this could happen. Such bad luck. Such poor judgement. Such a mistake. These things didn’t happen to people like Lloyd and his friends.

Except, of course, when Lloyd had slipped into Greta’s bed and thought that he was ‘showing Sophie’. Such poor judgement. Such a mistake. Lloyd felt sweat on his upper lip. Did this mean no one was immune?

‘But surely you can appeal? There must be ways to clear your name. If you tell them about Miss Hutchinson.’

‘Miss Hollingson,’ Ted corrected, gently. ‘No. I did pass on secret information. Why? I can’t remember. I think I was showing off. Can you imagine? How pathetic. A man my age and size showing off to the elderly housekeeper who thinks I walk on water regardless, and then, bang, I have no job and no references, so no chance of getting another job.’

‘And you’ve kept this all from Kate?’

‘It hasn’t been easy, but at first I thought I’d get another job. If the market weren’t so dead I’m sure I could have talked away the indiscretion, and the thirteen years of good service would go some way towards making me employable, but the markets are flat. Even those who can wash their Y-fronts in public can’t find work.’

‘So what have you done all day, every day? How have you managed to convince Kate that you are at work? What have you done for money?’

‘I had some family money. I cashed in my trust fund, and we had some savings. But it’s all gone now. I’ve discovered that we live dramatically beyond our means. I’ve become the cliché. I am the man who picks up my laptop and coat, ostensibly setting off for work, but who goes to the park instead.’

‘Every day?’

‘Well, at first I made calls, tried to pick up some old contacts, but no one wants to know you as you slide down the pole. I feed ducks; I sometimes visit museums if it’s wet.’

Lloyd felt sick. He could only imagine his friend’s despair and loneliness, the disgrace and dishonour. He had no concept of the fear.

‘You have to tell her.’

‘I do.’

‘How bad is it?’

‘Couldn’t be worse. We’ll lose the house and our cars. Our shares are worth a fraction of what I bought them for. The children will have to come out of their schools…’ Ted couldn’t bring himself to continue.

‘But you can sell the house in Bordeaux.’

‘I already have. The money from that paid the mortgage on our Holland Park pile for the past few months.’

‘But you’ve just bought your mother-in-law a place in the Cotswolds.’ Lloyd didn’t understand.

‘I didn’t know how to get out of the promise without admitting to my situation. So I took another loan out to put down the deposit. I can’t pay the mortgage on it or the loan repayments. I’ll have to hand back the keys. I’ve lost thousands on solicitor’s fees, pushing through a purchase.’

‘Shit.’

‘I couldn’t have put it better myself.’

‘The housekeeper, Miss Hollingson, she could give you some of that money she made.’

Ted looked at Lloyd with genuine sadness. He didn’t need to say anything. He would not ask Miss Hollingson for money; he had too much pride for that. Besides, she might not want to give it to him. She might have already given it to her family. If he asked and she turned him down, well, Ted would never recover from that cruelty. Such simple solutions and happy endings were confined to the pages of books.

‘Why haven’t you told Kate?’ asked Lloyd, with bewilderment.

‘She’ll leave me,’ said Ted calmly. ‘Lloyd, Ms Monopoly will not live a life as ordinary as the one I am now equipped to provide.’

Lloyd didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t even have the spirit to fling out a few consoling platitudes. He thought it was pointless to suggest that everything would be all right or that Ted was mistaken and Kate would ‘stand by her man’. Like Ted, he doubted that would be the case.

Ted continued, ‘I don’t want to be divorced. I don’t want to lose her, or the kids. I don’t want to be –’

‘Me.’

‘No offence.’

‘None taken,’ said Lloyd. He didn’t want to be him either.

‘Old chap, you should understand more than anyone.’

Yes, he did understand. Lloyd lived in his own hell, made worse because he’d chosen it. At least Sophie could assure herself it wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t chosen to be divorced – although technically she had. She’d sued
him
for divorce, but, when he pointed this out to her, she simply said he’d left her no choice. She insisted that he’d chosen their paths when he stopped loving her. She had successfully disassociated herself from all responsibility. He’d tried to tell himself that it wasn’t entirely his fault. Sophie wasn’t one for forgiving and forgetting. She attached herself to grudges and grievances like a leech on bad blood; rehashing and revisiting, remembering and reviving the hurtful anger each time. So he had no choice either. But then he was the one who had put them on a path where there were no opportunities for U-turns. He sighed. Sophie’s words, ‘You chose this,’ tossed at him with indecent regularity, had hit their target, wounding him.

It
was
his fault.

As this mess was Ted’s fault.

The guys sat in silence for another two hours. The light faded around them, but neither of them moved to turn on more lamps. The glow from the TV illuminated the room with a bluish hue. The drone of the French quiz shows and the occasional pshuush of a bottle top being eased off a beer bottle were the only sounds in the room. Lloyd wished he could be more useful. He felt his silence exposed his impotence. Ted thought his silence was sensitive and had never admired his friend more. Eventually Lloyd stood up. ‘I’d better get going. Kate will be back soon. Are you going to talk to her?’

Ted shrugged. He certainly felt braver and better for telling his story for the first time, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to confront Kate.

‘Well, look, be careful. You know, look after yourself, buddy.’ Lloyd wondered if he should offer to lend Ted some money, but he had the sense to realize anything he could spare would be a Band-Aid trying to patch a severed limb. Instead he stuttered, ‘I’m here, right. If you… need… well… anything.’ He felt very Californian.

‘Don’t worry, old chap. I’m not going to fling myself off a mountain. It wouldn’t do any good. My life insurance wouldn’t cover the debt I’m in.’ Lloyd grinned, pleased that Ted was trying to make a joke, however weak. At least he was trying to fit the affable, easygoing persona that he’d worn so comfortably throughout his life. ‘But seriously, Lloyd, thanks for the concern.’

Lloyd closed the door behind him.

38. Showtime

The cinema was surprisingly busy, despite the heavy-duty arty film that was showing.

‘Even on holiday the French need to feed their intellect is apparent,’ commented Mia. She loved the French. They were so learned, and elegant, and imbued with a haughty, unapologetic sophistication that Mia yearned to ape. ‘It goes to show you can never underestimate the French love of culture,’ she added.

Or torture, thought Kate. It didn’t surprise her that they had invented the guillotine.

Despite the popularity of the sepia-toned film – mostly about suicide and urban cruelty, as Kate had expected – the gang of friends managed to secure a line of seats. Kate sat next to Mia, who had wangled a seat next to Scaley. Jason hadn’t needed to do much to ensure that he was sitting next to Jayne. He was flattered to see that she made quite a fuss to squeeze in between him and Rich, although she hadn’t responded that well when he’d tried to put his arm around her shoulders as they’d walked here tonight. She had sort of shrugged him off. Still, it wasn’t as though they were an actual couple. He could understand her not wanting to appear too ‘together’ in front of all of the others. But then she had kissed him on the slopes in front of Rich today, so the message was a bit mixed.

Jase didn’t care enough to think about that more. He was happy that they were sharing a Diet Coke and that she kept flashing her fantastic smile and cleavage. He was a betting man, and he thought that the odds were on that she’d sleep with him tonight. There was a slim chance that she’d be the type of girl to keep him waiting until the end of the week, but he didn’t think so. Jason didn’t come across teases too frequently in the world in which he lived.

Jayne wiggled in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. The process somehow involved her toe sliding all the way up Rich’s calves. He glared at her, and she responded with a wink.

Rich fidgeted in his seat, too. He stretched his long legs out into the aisle and away from Jayne. Then he folded his arms protectively around himself so that she couldn’t accidentally weave her fingers around his – well, he wouldn’t put it past her. How obvious did she want to be? Someone was going to think something was going on if she didn’t stop pestering him. In addition to the frankly gob-smacking show with the fakies, at dinner she’d laughed at all his pathetic jokes and – no false modesty – he knew he wasn’t being particularly funny. Still, Jayne had laughed like a drain and was behaving as though she thought he was more hilarious than Johnny Vegas and Ricky Gervais all rolled into one. And she laid her hand on his arm whenever she was talking to him. He supposed it could just be interpreted as a friendly gesture, but it was very friendly and none of the others knew they were particular friends.

Not that he was saying they were particular friends, but, you know.

It was confusing.

It was a good thing that Tash was such a friendly, tactile and trusting person herself; she didn’t think Jayne’s behaviour was odd. The others might begin to, though. Mia, for example. She had a nose for this kind of thing. He couldn’t risk anyone associating the two of them beyond the acknowledged acquaintance. He didn’t like finding himself sitting next to Jayne. He’d be more comfortable if he was sitting with Kate at the other end of the row. Or, better yet, if he was with Tash. A fleeting stab of anger hit Rich. Tash should be here. Going to bed was selfish and unsociable. She should be here, protecting him. Rich was immediately embarrassed by his own thoughts. Tash wasn’t selfish. She was probably knackered and she had every right to say no to the film. Besides, he didn’t need protecting. That was a ridiculous thought. Protecting from what? Little Jayne.

‘Popcorn?’ Jayne offered the carton to Rich.

He opened his mouth to decline politely. He didn’t want anything from her, not even her bloody popcorn. But as he went to say so, Jayne quickly dropped a piece into his mouth. She let her beautifully manicured finger gently drag on his lip, just for a nanosecond. Miffed and stunned, he turned his head back towards the film, carefully chewing the popcorn with his mouth firmly shut.

He couldn’t follow the film. To be totally frank, he held the same opinion as Tash about French films. He found them self-consciously clever, a bit too pleased with themselves. And what had they to be pleased about? The plots were all the same – very beautiful and intense youths doing unspeakable things to themselves, drugs, prostitution etc. All in the name of art. And he couldn’t keep track of who was whom because everyone looked the same, i.e. not much like real people. Not even the good-looking real people he knew. He hadn’t liked
Betty Blue
, not even when it reached cult status when he was studying. Not that he’d ever admitted as much. He, like every other undergraduate, had raved that the film was profound and moving beyond belief. But it had just been depressing. He didn’t mind having a poster on his wall, though. The actress Beatrice Dalle was hot.

Jase was whispering something to Jayne, again. She smiled at whatever he said, again. He wished they’d shut up. They’d been whispering to one another throughout the film and it was bad manners, even if it was a bad film. Rich hissed a shush which just caused Jayne to giggle.

‘No need to be jealous, babe,’ Jayne whispered in Rich’s ear. He could feel her breath on the back of his neck, and it made his hair stand on end. Her lips almost brushed his ear lobes.

‘I’m not jealous,’ he snapped. Jayne smiled, believing she knew better. ‘I just can’t follow the film if you are chatting. My French isn’t good enough.’

‘You are so sweet,’ simpered Jayne, and she landed a light peck on his cheek.

Rich was incensed beyond words. He checked along the line of his friends’ faces, to see if any of them had caught Jayne’s kiss. It didn’t look as though they had; their eyes were glued to the screen, brows furrowed in concentration as they attempted to deconstruct the bizarre plot. Rich stood up and marched into the foyer. Like a shadow, Jayne followed him.