as though everything about her existence had changed for the better. Except for Vince. Nothing had changed there. A good-looking charmer on the scrounge, a bit of a boozer who picked up jobs as and when he needed them, fiddled his benefit, lay around the flat watching the racing, with an occasional saunter down to the bookie’s or the pub. He had been a natural part of the old life. But now? They were disloyal thoughts, she knew, but sometimes, and especially of late, Vince seemed like a dreadful weight dragging her down. There had been a time a year ago, when he had realised that she was earning real money and hewas just wasting his life, when things had improved, when he had begun to study for his Knowledge with ambitions of getting his own black cab. That was dead in the water now. The only future he had to look forward to was prison, for the next few years – of that Felicity had no doubt. And then? And then … She would be there when he came out, she supposed. That was what you did if your bloke went inside. So that was her, stuck for however many years, her twenties disappearing, life on hold … all for Vince. Felicity supposed she loved him, but did she love him that much?
She thought about this for the rest of the journey, and on the short walk home, and still had no answers.
CHAPTER FOUR
Rachel rang Leo first thing the next day. He was mildly surprised to discover that she was handling the Lloyd’s case, along with Fred.
‘I thought I mentioned it when you came to pick Oliver up a couple of weeks ago,’ said Rachel.
‘Did you? I can’t have been paying attention.’
‘Anyway, I’ll try to get the papers over to you later today. The first instalment, that is.’
‘So what are this lot like? As batty as the last, I presume.’
‘The Names? Oh, they’re a mixed bunch. The action’s being brought in the name of Lady Norbury, Henrietta, and she’s the biggest pain of them all. She must be well over seventy, she’s got all her marbles, but a few seem to be rolling about all over the place. She has some personal feud going with the Committee Chairman, Sir Stephen Caradog-Browne, would you believe, and if one of them is in favour of one course of action, the other’s sure to be against it. Which makes for slow going.’
‘Sounds about par for the course,’ sighed Leo. ‘In an ideal world, I’d rather never meet any of them, but I suppose I’ll have to.’
‘They’re having a bash at the Guards’ Club on Friday, seven-thirty. Sir Stephen’s hosting it. You should come along to that.’
‘I will,’ said Leo, pulling his diary towards him and opening it. ‘I was going to call you anyway, to discuss the arrangements for Oliver. How about ten on Saturday?’
‘That’s fine. By the way, I wouldn’t plan on trying to read any of the Lloyd’s stuff over the weekend. I made that mistake. I took a pile of statements home on Friday evening, thinking I’d get a chance to read them, but Charles is in the States at the moment, and Oliver’s at that stage where he wants you to be totally involved in everything he’s doing. I mean,
everything
, from putting his toy farm together to filling and emptying the Duplo box. He’s also not keen on taking his nap at the moment. I didn’t get much done.’
‘You should have rung me. I’d have taken him off your hands for a day. The access arrangement’s not set in stone, you know.’
‘I didn’t want him off my hands,’ replied Rachel rather abruptly. ‘That’s not what I meant. I like spending my weekends with him. The weekends I
have
with him, that is.’
‘Don’t sound so resentful. I am his father. I do have a right to see him every other week. I was merely suggesting that I could have had him for a few hours.’
‘I wasn’t suggesting that I wanted to get rid of him. You always misinterpret things I say. I sometimes think you do it deliberately.’
‘I deliberately misinterpret
you
?’ Leo sounded incredulous.
There was a