The First Mistake(53)

‘Because I have clients who have done even better than him.’

‘Oh,’ I said, standing corrected. ‘Well, why don’t you tell Mum about them then?’

‘Rodriguez is a new client and is just dipping his toe in the water at the moment, but he’s already turned thirty thousand into a hundred thousand in just a few months. Beth met him the other night, and he’s very happy with what I’m doing for him, isn’t he?’

I nodded enthusiastically.

‘But my biggest client, Seamus Harrison, started off with a budget of twenty thousand two years ago, and it currently stands at just over a million. He’s been able to give up his job in the city and go back to Ireland, where he spends his time training racehorses. He’d never have been able to do that without shrewd investments.’

‘And I suppose you make your money from their windfalls?’ asked Mum.

‘I work on commission, yes,’ he said. ‘I love what I do; the biggest kick being the ridiculous amounts of money that I can raise for my clients.’

Mum nodded thoughtfully and as I caught her eye, she raised her eyebrows as if silently posing the question I could hear loud and clear. Are you absolutely sure you know what you’re doing?

‘Shall we see how we get on with the wines we’ve got to sell first?’ I said, in answer. ‘If that’s successful, we can talk about further investments.’

‘Sounds like a sensible plan,’ said Thomas. ‘Let’s start from there.’





23


‘Well, that was relatively painless,’ I said, as we waved goodbye from the car.

‘She’s lovely,’ Thomas said, offering her a wide smile and sticking his hand out the window as we pulled away, crunching gravel as we went.

‘She liked you, too,’ I said, unable to stop smiling.

The two most important people in my life liked each other, and as I leant back on the headrest, it felt as if everything in my world was aligned. Great tentacles of happiness spread their way through my body, working their way to the very tips of my fingers, making them tingle. I wanted to hold onto this feeling for as long as I could, knowing that within seconds something could happen to snatch it away.

‘I’m not going into work until later tomorrow,’ I said, dreamily.

‘Oh, why’s that?’ he asked.

‘I’m supposed to be planning the outdoor pursuits trip that we’re going on the week after next.’

‘Ah, yes, is this the five days of hell in Snowdonia?’ He grimaced. ‘With thirty snotty-nosed kids, who are going to be up all night, and murder all day.’

I laughed. ‘You can come if you want.’

‘I’d rather stick pins in my eyes,’ he said, shuddering.

‘Don’t you want children?’ I asked, taking myself by surprise.

The pause that followed, whilst he considered his answer, was enough to pop the precarious happy bubble that I’d put myself in. I’ve overstepped the line. He thinks I’m too pushy. Why have I ruined everything?

‘Eventually,’ he said. ‘But only at the right time, when I know I’m with the woman I want to be with for the rest of my life.’

I could sense him turning to look at me, but I stayed focused on the road ahead, too scared to see the look in his eyes, in case they said it wasn’t me.

‘So anyways,’ I said, far too casually, ‘I wondered if we could go back to your place tonight. I’d love to see where you live – have somewhere to picture you in when we’re not together.’

‘Ah, that would have been awesome, but I’m up at the crack of dawn tomorrow.’

I could feel my bubble deflate even more, as if it were a very real, tangible thing. But instead of wallowing in my own paranoia, I took a different tack.

‘That’s okay, I’ll get up with you and go home.’

‘That’s not going to work,’ he said. ‘It’s Sod’s Law. Any other day would be fine, but I need to be at the airport by five thirty in the morning.’

I turned in my chair. ‘The airport? You didn’t tell me you were going anywhere.’ I could hear the accusatory tone in my voice and flinched. He didn’t owe me anything.

‘What . . .? Yes, I did. I told you I was going to Spain for a couple of days.’

Suddenly, it wasn’t about him going, but him not telling me he was going.

‘When?’ I asked, knowing full well he’d not said a word.

‘The other night, after the burglary. I told you I was going to Spain to meet an investor who had some vintage rioja to sell.’

If he’d have said any other time, I would have believed him. But after the burglary I was feeling particularly vulnerable, and if he’d told me he was going away, I’m sure I would have remembered – nervous at the thought.

‘You didn’t,’ I said. ‘This is the first I’ve heard of it.’

He laughed. ‘I definitely told you. You said that it was a shame that we weren’t away at the same time. Anyway, what’s the biggie?’

‘There is no “biggie”,’ I said, putting the word in speech marks. ‘You just didn’t tell me, that’s all.’

‘Well, I’m sorry if you don’t remember, but I’m telling you again now. I’m going to Spain tomorrow and am back on Wednesday.’