The Deal (32 page)

No, the daily problem he had, which he could not talk about with other people, was the stares he received from some of the other mothers when he collected his daughters from school. As they all stood waiting, he sensed their looks of curiosity and, he thought, judgement. There were other fathers around but they seemed somehow more at ease. He felt that he stood out. He started dressing down, trying to look more casual, but it changed nothing. There was a group of three women who centred their attention on him.

It was becoming more and more of an issue for him and he found he was dreading the afternoon task. He tried arriving a little later and then had a problem parking his car. One day he was late and the girls seemed upset when he reached them. They told their mother and Charles and Lucy exchanged some harsh words.

But the day his world imploded was provoked by such a simple event. As he arrived in the playground the trio of mothers laughed out loud and he was convinced it was about him. He took the girls home and they went to their rooms to change out of their uniforms, as was their routine.

He collected a bottle of scotch and a glass and went to the bottom of the garden where there was a table and two chairs. He placed the bottle on the table top and rested the photograph of his family against its side. He poured some scotch and picked up the glass. He brought it towards his lips and repeated, yet again, all the reasons why he would resist – as he always did – breaking his resolve. The definitive argument was that he was making a life choice. But they had laughed at him. They had laughed at his choice.

And on this occasion he didn’t take the glass away. He knew that he was now strong enough to drink in moderation. If he was going to relapse he would not have survived the abduction of his daughter. He had said “no” time and again and proved to everybody that he had rejoined the human race. Now he just wanted the freedom to have a glass of wine at lunchtime. He longed to share time with Lucy free of this constraint. He had conquered the demons and alcohol could now be his friend.

As the first few drops of whiskey trickled down his throat, he sensed an exhilaration and relaxation he had longed for over many, many weeks. For Charles, the battle was over. He put the glass back down and looked at it.

“I know that if I so choose, I’ll not drink any more today,” he said aloud. He stared at the glass for over five minutes. He lifted it to his mouth.

“This is, as Lucy says, a life choice,” he said. “Charles Harriman is back. And in control.”

He had been thinking about starting another corporate finance business and had a list of people to phone. His mind was now in overdrive. He was alive. The nightmare was over. He allowed himself one final glass of scotch. He would spend the evening writing his business plan. Tomorrow he would buy the girls presents to demonstrate how happy he was. He would take them all out for a meal tonight and announce his new business venture. He would employ an au pair to take care of the new baby. When was that due? Lucy was now three months, or was it four? He was thinking that a woman is pregnant for eight months and eight times four is thirty-two weeks. And add two weeks for those months that have thirty-one days. He laughed aloud in sheer happiness. He was on the way back. He felt like himself, his best self. Therefore, if she was sixteen weeks now the baby would be born in four months, which would be December. No, November. He’d need the au pair in October. That would be interesting. Would Lucy let him have a pretty girl? He had a pal who had one from Sweden. He loved Lucy so much. She had helped him to make a life choice. He owed it all to her. He was on his way back. He had beaten the demons. He was Charles Harriman. He knew that no woman would ever laugh at him again.

When Lucy arrived home she found her husband lying semi-conscious in the grass at the bottom of their garden. Scarlett was crying and trying to wake him up. She immediately called the emergency services for an ambulance and telephoned the A & E unit at the hospital. After Charles had been initially treated by the paramedics and taken by stretcher into the ambulance, she arranged for her neighbour to look after the girls. She then telephoned the manager at the Priory Grange Clinic in Hemel Hempstead before driving to the hospital. She knew from past experience that her husband would recover from his drinking binge within twenty-four hours.

She also knew that life for the Harriman family would never be the same again.

Oliver had always been capable of enjoying his own company. He spent most of his time surrounded by people and so the haven of his flat allowed him quality time. He was looking forward to an evening of solitude, wine and music. He knew that he would think about Amanda. It was now a week since her abrupt departure from the Threadneedles Hotel, which had not allowed him any time to wish her well or ask any questions. It made no sense to him at all. He had always known that her relationship with Zach had been serious, but he had succeeded in occupying her attention without too much difficulty.

She was now proposing to become a guardian of two small boys with a soon-to-be divorced man. Had he imagined the growing passion between the two of them? He had always accepted the basis for ‘the deal’ and then watched as Amanda struggled with its restrictive terms.

As he wondered what might have been, the bell rang on his mobile. He picked it up and read the message on the screen. It came as some surprise to him.

“Free tonight. Do you fancy my company? Sara.”

He had responded without any hesitation and was now awaiting her arrival. Nearly an hour later, she rang the intercom and, a few minutes later, was standing outside his front door holding a bottle. She now lay on his sofa with a glass of champagne in her hand.

“So where is Alex tonight?” he asked.

“Not with me.”

He knew from experience with Sara that she had no intention of elaborating.

For some reason he decided to tell her about his aborted liaison with Christina and how near he had come to finding out the answer to his music riddle.

“So, you’ve still not solved it,” she said. “And you’ve tried so very hard.”

He paused at hearing the unexpected praise. He smiled. “It’s been a long journey and I felt at times I might be close.”

“Take me through the composers again,” said Sara.

“All of them?”

“Every one.”

“Right,” said Oliver. “We started with Rachmaninov. My brother-in-law, Edward, suggested him and, of course, I love his music. But I decided he wasn’t the composer. Since first thinking it might be him I’ve replayed the second piano concerto many times. Obviously he’s produced quite a wide selection of other music. But I’m certain it wasn’t Rachmaninov.

“I then asked my father, who suggested it could be Shostakovich. He thought I should listen to the ‘Leningrad’, which was marvellous, but convinced me that this wasn’t the composer of my piece either.”

He wandered over and refilled her glass. She stretched out her legs and rested them on the arm of the sofa.

“My brother-in-law became involved again and this time suggested Medtner. I enjoyed his music but knew immediately it wasn’t him.” At this point he sat down and looked Sara directly in the eyes.

“Then came Amanda,” he said.

“Who’s Amanda?” she asked. “Oh, of course, Alistair’s sister from City Fiction. I’ve heard all about her.”

“Let’s move on,” said Oliver. “She suggested Tchaikovsky. He was never in the frame because his style is so different.” He paused again.

“Then my father put forward Anton Rubinstein. I hadn’t heard of him but I’m still playing his music. Not him either.”

He looked at her. “Who came next?”

She laughed. “Did someone perhaps suggest Franz Liszt?”

“It was a good idea and I thank you for it, but not my man. I liked ‘Liebestraum’, which I’d heard many times before, but your suggestion of the ‘Mephisto Waltz’ was fun.”

He poured them both some more champagne.

“The final thought came from the music shop – Mussorgsky. His music is great and his piece ‘Pictures at an Exhibition’ made me wonder whether it might be him. But no.”

“So you met this Christina in a hotel and she was going to tell you what the piece of music is called, but it didn’t work out?”

“Something like that.”

Their eyes met.

“Would you like to stay the night?” he asked.

She looked at him and shook her head. She then stood up and put her arms around his neck, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

“I’d love to stay and talk until the early hours, but then I have to go home.”

“Home to Alex?”

“Yes. She’ll be waiting for me, Oliver.”

Chapter Twelve

He was sound asleep and dreaming. The images he was seeing were fuzzy and a constant banging sound resounded in his head. He wanted to continue in his reverie but the noise would not abate. Finally he gave up the battle and opened his eyes – and immediately realised that there was someone knocking on the door of his flat. He turned over and looked at his watch. It was 6.54am. He had fallen asleep on his sofa in the early hours of the morning.

He struggled to get up and, having risen reluctantly from his comfy base, crawled slowly towards the sound. He undid the lock, grabbed the handle and pulled the door open.

“I have a taxi waiting,” she said.

It was Amanda, looking dazzling in a pink summer dress. Her eyes looked tired but, as she saw him, a smile melted over her whole face.

“A taxi?” asked a bemused Oliver. “Why, where, what’s this all about? Where’s Zach?”

She stood completely still and made no attempt to enter his apartment.

“Go and put your jacket on please, Oliver. The meter is ticking.”

“I need five minutes,” he said. “Come on in. There’s coffee in the kitchen.”

She stepped inside but waited as he went into the bathroom, shaved at a record speed, splashed water over himself, combed his hair, went back into the bedroom, and changed his clothes. They left the flat together without speaking a word and, within a few moments, he found himself in the back of a London cab travelling through Holborn, along Oxford Street and on to Trafalgar Square. Amanda asked the driver to drop them off at Admiralty Arch on the south side of the monument. They got out of the cab and Amanda paid the fare.

Oliver had remained quiet during the journey from his flat but as they stood on the pavement, he spoke.

“Amanda, what are we doing here?” he asked.

“What do you think? We’re going to walk down the Mall holding hands.”

He looked at her in complete amazement. He ran his hand through his hair and undid the middle button of his jacket.

“Hey, that’s my line,” he laughed.

“And, when we reach the end, we’ll decide whether to complete our deal.”

Oliver hesitated before speaking. Why was she raising the issue of the deal again? He had thought that events had overtaken it. He could not understand why she was at his side so early on a Sunday morning. She had been resolute. They were to walk down the Mall and then what? They were to make a decision. But first, he assumed, they would talk to each other.

One kilometre to discover the outcome of their deliberations.

They started the walk down the Mall. As they passed under the Arch, they gazed up at its structure. Once used as the residence of the first sea lord and the heads of the Royal Navy, it now functioned as government offices. They took the south side, passing Horse Guards Parade and walking parallel to St. James’s Park. There was no traffic as it was a Sunday. There were already a number of people enjoying the summer morning and there were horses being exercised in Green Park on the north side.

They walked slowly together. Amanda moved her right hand towards Oliver’s and then took it away.

“Zach has gone back to his wife,” she said in a quiet voice. They had covered over two hundred yards. “I suppose they always do.”

Oliver stopped and turned towards her.

“How did he tell you?”

“He was pretty specific. There was no discussion. I already knew something was wrong because of the look his wife had given me when I had collected the boys from her house.” She paused and wiped her hand over her face. “He put them in the car and told me that she had made an amazing recovery and they wanted to be a family again. He said I could stay in the house as long as I wanted, but I’ve already moved back to the flat.” She paused and looked at him. “Funny that. I’d not even thought about putting it on the market. Perhaps I’m not such a dumb blonde after all.”

They continued walking together.

“I never stopped thinking about you – but I know you won’t believe me,” she said.

“Does Alistair know?”

“Yes. He laughed at me.”

The air was still and yet Oliver noticed that she was perspiring slightly. Neither of them slackened their pace. They were now half way down the Mall and Buckingham Palace was looming ahead. They could see the Queen Victoria Memorial looming before them.

“So I’m back in favour?” he said.

“You were never out of favour, Oliver. I got myself in a muddle over Sara and then Zach wrote me this letter… I suppose I’m a bit of a romantic at heart. I fell for it. To be fair, I think he meant it when he wrote it.” She hesitated before continuing.

“If his wife has recovered and he wants the boys to have their rightful family home, I suppose I can’t really complain about being unceremoniously dumped...” She laughed softly.

“So you decided I might just be there waiting for you in my flat?”

“It seemed worth the cost of a taxi fare.” She smiled.

“So, at the end of the Mall we kiss and make up and then go to bed together?”

“Well, we do still have a deal to complete.”

“Until Zach’s wife harasses somebody else and he decides he made a mistake and wants you back.”

Amanda maintained her stride and took Oliver with her. The trees were in full leaf and early morning birdsong crooned around them. A helicopter buzzed overhead and the planes were taking the eastern route into Heathrow.

“We became very close,” she said.

“We did.”