The French Girl(34)

“What?” He’s genuinely taken aback. “Where’s this coming from?”

“It’s just something Caro said. I wondered . . .” I feel a cold sweat on my torso. It’s excruciatingly embarrassing to have to ask this. It’s embarrassing to even have to wonder it. In time I will feel anger at Seb for putting me in this position, but all I feel at the moment is shame.

“Hold on a moment, this sounds like something I shouldn’t be broadcasting over the trading floor. Let me get to my office.” There’s a pause and some muffled noises, then he comes back on the line. “Fire away.”

“It’s just . . . I’m probably getting the wrong end of the stick, but I wondered if Caro was sleeping with Seb.” I add as an afterthought, “Or you, actually.” Theo I don’t consider a real possibility.

“Me sleeping with Seb?” He sounds genuinely bewildered.

I can’t help but laugh. “No, with Caro, you idiot.”

“Hand on my heart, I can promise you I have never slept with either Seb or Caro. Nor do I have any wish to.” Humor warms his deep voice.

“And Seb? Seb with Caro, to be precise.”

His pause is significant. “I don’t think so,” he says finally. There’s no trace of the humor now. “I think . . . well, Caro has always had a thing for him. You must know that.”

I suppose he’s right; I’ve always known that. “And?”

“And nothing. I think that’s all it’s ever been, an unrequited thing. He kind of knew it, but I don’t think he ever went there. He never felt the same, and it would have been a disaster given how close all our families are if he were to screw her over.” Of course, it was fine to screw me over, with my unconnected, unimportant family . . . “At least, that’s my take,” he says at last, but I get the sense he’s still mulling something over.

“Would he have told you, do you think? I know you’re close, but he didn’t tell you about Severine . . .”

“True.” I hear him take a breath in then blow it out. “I don’t know,” he admits reluctantly. “Before you came along, then I’d have said yes, for sure, he would have told me anything. But after . . . I don’t know.” I want to ask what changed, but there’s no way to do it without sounding like I’m looking for some validation, some sign I was important in Seb’s life, and I refuse to be so pitiful in front of Tom. “Where are you going with this?”

“I don’t know. I just suddenly feel like . . . God, I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell was going on that week. Modan is asking questions, and I’m not even sure I can answer anything, because nothing is how I thought it was, and . . . and . . .” I’m suddenly aware I’m close to tears.

“Hey, whoa there,” Tom says softly down the line. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

He’s silent for a moment. “No, it’s not, is it? Look, why don’t we meet before dinner tonight? Have a drink and talk all this through. I can get to Knightsbridge for around six. Okay?”

I take a deep, shuddering breath. “Yes. Okay. Thanks. Sorry about all this.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Oh—did you get a lawyer?”

“I’m meeting one tomorrow.”

“Good.” He sounds genuinely relieved. “See you at six.”

I put down the phone and rest my eye sockets in the heels of my hands for a moment. When I lift my head again I find Severine watching me. For once there’s no trace of hostility beneath her smooth exterior; she’s simply watching me.

“Haven’t you anywhere better to be?” I ask her. It’s the first time I’ve actually spoken to her; unsurprisingly she doesn’t answer, so I do it for her. “No, I don’t suppose you do, under the circumstances.”

Julie comes to the doorway, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “Did you need something?”

I shake my head, smiling brightly. “No, sorry, just talking to myself.”

She’s already moving back to her seat. “First sign of madness, you know,” she says over her shoulder. The thought had crossed my mind.





CHAPTER TEN


The evening starts badly.

I’m at the pub a few minutes after six and predictably find Tom—reliable, steady Tom—already there; but so, too, is Lara. From Tom’s ruefully apologetic expression I divine he had no choice. I pull myself together to kiss Lara hello. “What a pleasant surprise!”

“I was sure you’d want to meet beforehand, but I couldn’t raise you on your mobile this afternoon, so I called Tom,” she says breezily.

“Really? My phone must be playing up again. I didn’t see that you’d called.” Lying is becoming easier with practice, but the guilt remains the same. I turn to hug Tom hello; his breath strokes my ear carrying a murmur of, “Sorry.” He’s been home to change after work; he’s dressed in jeans and a shirt, and smells of newly applied aftershave. I’m still in work clothes, but it’s a deliberate choice: I have a fancy that the combination of this dress with these stiletto heels shows off my legs to their best advantage. Absent the Adonis arm candy, it’s really the best I can do.