'Kate doesn't know,' said Ted, deadpan.

'Doesn't know?' Lloyd was momentarily stumped. 'How's that working? I guess there was a big pay-off, right? And you're living off that, right? Are you waiting to get something new before you tell her, to save her the worry?'

'There was no pay-off.' The same blunt, resigned tone.

Lloyd didn't get it. 'But if you are made redundant in the City there's always a pay-off. I'm always reading about blokes who get a cool million, and then walk straight into another job.' Lloyd jealously hated this type of bloke, but at that moment he desperately wanted his best friend to be one of them.

'I wasn't made redundant. I was sacked,' said Ted simply. He sounded dulled, damaged.

'Sacked?' Lloyd was astonished and at a total loss for words. He wasn't exactly au fait with what merchant bankers did on a day-to-day basis, but he'd always had the impression that, whatever they did, Ted did it well. He was extremely bright, diligent and likeable. Why would anyone think to sack him? Ted answered the unasked question.

'Insider dealing.'

'What?' Lloyd jumped to his feet. He simply could not take it in. He did not believe it. Could not, would not believe it of Ted. Not even if it was Ted telling him so. 'But you didn't, did you?' Lloyd a.s.sumed his question was rhetorical. Ted was the very epitome of English gentlemanliness. He was fair, loyal and honest. He was not a cheat. Not an insider dealer. There had to be a mistake. 'It's clearly a case of wrongful dismissal, isn't it?'

'No. Yes. A bit,' said Ted, not clarifying the situation much. 'Well, technically no, it is not a case of wrongful dismissal. I didn't mean to, but I broke the rules.'

'How? Why?'

Ted sighed. After five months of horrible secrecy, he was amazed at how simply the words were pouring out now. 'I was in Suffolk visiting my parents one weekend. Do you remember Miss Hollingson? Their lady "that does". She'd been with them for ever. She's next to hopeless as a cleaner now in fact always has been but she's part of the furniture. She'd finally decided that it was her time to retire, what with my parents spending most of their time abroad. She didn't like knocking about the old pile alone. My parents would never have asked her to leave, unless it were in a box. I think they were surprised and more than a little bit sad when she said that she wanted to move to her brother's, to be near his children and grandchildren.'

'You've lost me,' said Lloyd.

'The odd thing was I could have given her cash, a lot of cash, and I'd have happily done so. She taught me how to tie my shoelaces and recite the alphabet. You know?'.

Lloyd didn't know. Ted was describing a different world. A world with live-in housekeepers was one which he could only imagine, but he nodded to encourage Ted.

'She wouldn't take my cash. Too proud. We were chatting about her family, and I pa.s.sed comment on how excited she must be about going to live near them, and she said something a little odd, something that suggested that wasn't the case. She wasn't excited and nor were they. Worse still, she knew they weren't. They couldn't afford her, was her view. Although, realistically, they probably just didn't want her. A great auntie turning up on your doorstep with her duster and profligate advice on childcare, well, it's not ideal, is it? She wanted to take a nest egg with her. A sweetener, if you like. Can you believe it, after all those years of working for my parents for a very fair wage and yet she didn't have a pension? Hardly any savings to speak of? I was astounded. Nearly everything she'd ever earned she'd pa.s.sed on. She'd lived comfortably and had no idea that it would end. It didn't even have to. My parents think of her as family. They didn't want her to leave.'

A flash of frustration and regret pa.s.sed across Ted's face. He was trying to sound reasonable, but in truth this terrible difficulty he found himself centre of was all so unnecessary, and if there was one thing Ted loathed it was unnecessary hardship. Hardship was difficult to bear. Unnecessary hardship was insulting.

'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 pa.s.sing 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 pa.s.sed on the tip to her b.l.o.o.d.y 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 s.p.a.ce 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 pa.s.s 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 cliche. 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.'

's.h.i.t.'

'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 plat.i.tudes. 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 h.e.l.l, made worse because he'd chosen it. At least Sophie could a.s.sure 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 disa.s.sociated 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 w.a.n.gled 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 c.o.ke 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 a.s.sociating 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 embarra.s.sed 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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, prost.i.tution 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.

39. A Big Joke.

Rich punched open the auditorium door. The plastic made a loud thwacking sound as it bounced back into place. Rich found that satisfying, but couldn't deny that he had an urge to thwack something else.

He was shaking. Was it fear? Anger? s.h.i.t, was it l.u.s.t? Was he jealous of Jayne and Jase? Surely not. Had Jayne's not-so-subtle table show turned him on? Impossible. How was she managing to aggravate him so? There was a water fountain in the foyer. He walked directly to it and ran his face under the flow.

The water had the desired effect. Rich's smudgy head cleared.

It was not l.u.s.t. He did not desire Jayne. On paper she was knock-out; in reality, she was flipping him out. She could ruin everything. He had given her the power to ruin his life. He was afraid and then angry, and then afraid again. He felt a long fingernail trace the vertebra of his spine as he bent over the water faucet. s.h.i.t, she'd followed him out of the auditorium. He straightened, scowled and set off along the corridor towards the loos.

'We need to talk, babe,' said Jayne, as she made short, determined steps to follow him.

'Oh, no, we don't,' he replied. 'We have nothing to say to one another.'

'Why are you being like this?' she asked.

'Me? Me?' Rich turned to face Jayne, but pointed at himself. 'Me being like this?' he asked, amazed. 'I'm not being like anything. It's you who is being out of order.' She laid her hand on his arm again, and he pulled away as though she'd scalded him 'Don't touch me,' he bit out. 'OK, this isn't funny now. These innuendos and the following me about, it's just not funny. You've had your giggle, now stop it,' spat Rich.

'I can't lose you again,' replied Jayne.

Rich thought he must be speaking a foreign tongue. Why couldn't he get through to this girl? She couldn't lose him again because she'd never found him. He'd never been hers to lose. He paused and studied her. She was at least a foot shorter than him. She was entirely pick-up-and-play, and he used to love that. He'd enjoyed flipping her every which way in the sack. Now he wished she was bigger. He felt ign.o.ble that his adversary was so d.i.n.ky. But at the same time he feared that her power was enormous.

She gazed up at him, and he had to admit she was cute. Or at least she would be if she wasn't wearing that ridiculous expression. Her look put him in mind of his older sister gazing adoringly at the Donny Osmond posters Blu-Tacked to her bedroom wall. His sister had been about ten years old when she last wore that expression, and he'd thought it was soppy back then. Jayne could not be serious.

Suddenly, Rich saw a ray of light.

This was a joke, a wind-up. The whole thing. Jase was probably in on it. He was probably trying to get his own back because somehow he'd found out about Rich s.h.a.gging Jayne on the sly, and his nose was out of joint because Rich had kept a secret from him. That's why he'd gone on about fancying Jayne when they were on the slopes today. Jase was probably hoping to force a confession from Rich. b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l. Rich started to giggle. The relief was enormous. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Jase was a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, a funny b.a.s.t.a.r.d admittedly, but a b.a.s.t.a.r.d nonetheless. But thank G.o.d that this was a joke. A containable joke. Tash wasn't going to find out that he'd lied to her. He was safe. This was all a gag. Because this Donny Osmond groupie approach just couldn't be serious.

'What's this about, Jayne? Is this a wind-up?' Rich was t.i.ttering like John Travolta in those early scenes of Grease when he doesn't want to look uncool in front of the T-Birds. 'You and Jase, you are having a laugh, aren't you? This is ' Rich didn't finish his sentence. If they were having a laugh, then Jayne was taking her role to the extreme.

'Don't be silly, Richie, babe. I want you. I want you more than any man alive, and I've only ever wanted you. This isn't a joke. Why would I joke about something as serious as us?'

'There isn't an "us". There's never been an "us".' Rich was aware that he was almost shouting, and so wrenched his voice back under control by the end of the sentence. The final 'us' was issued like a hiss.

'Oh, Richie, babe, don't say such things.' Jayne leant towards him and hugged him. She nuzzled her face into his jacket and, if he wasn't mistaken, she was sniffing him.