Conflict of Interest

‘That was years ago,’ Judith was defensive, ‘and he knew I didn’t mean it.’

‘Ah. Clairvoyant, is he?’

‘Anyway,’ Judith ignored the barb, ‘I’m sure he’s not too worried about that now he’s got his new piece of fluff.’

‘He’s seeing someone?’

‘You tell me.’ She gestured towards the verandah. She’d noticed him talking to some tall, slim, blonde number. Well, whoopie-do.

Tina raised herself up on her tiptoes. ‘You mean Carole Keheyan?’

“The blonde.’

Tina delivered a droll smile. ‘That’s Bernie’s boss’s girlfriend.’

‘Oh.’

‘Funny. For a moment back there your eyes seemed to go a vivid shade of green.’

‘It’s not like that. Really.’ Rewriting history, she’d long since decided, only ever led to tears.

When she met Chris at the buffet table she tried to be friendly, but he seemed wary. After their previous encounters of the past few years, she really couldn’t blame him. So she ate supper with Tina and Sebastian and some of the others from the old crowd, friends she saw less frequently these days, and whose company she valued all the more. Then Bernie laid on his doctored ice-cream dessert, and things got very mellow, which was when the dancing started and they were all out on the verandah I do, I do, I do-ing at the tops of their voices.

The dance circle that formed had Chris and her directly across from each other. But it didn’t feel awkward. Caught up in the mood, as they whirled and kicked through the music, it was just a bit of uninhibited, if slightly inebriated fun. Then the music got funkier and the circle broke up. Judith spent more time circulating and watching with the others while Bernie staged an impromptu fireworks display. Then some time around midnight she noticed Chris doing the rounds, saying his goodbyes, and decided to slip away herself.

Minutes later, she was lighting a cigarette as she made her way down the street to her car. The evening had turned cool, and her pace was brisk. Retrieving the car key from her handbag, she slipped it into the passenger door lock and tried to turn it. No movement. Then she remembered what had happened earlier in the evening, and how she’d ended up leaving the door unlocked. Only now, when she tried opening the door, it wouldn’t budge. Slipping the key back in the lock she fiddled with it. Maybe she had locked it earlier, without realising. There was some movement when she used the key. But not enough to get

the door open.

She shook the handle and punched the door. This was all she bloody needed! The early bloody hours of a Sunday morning; every cab in London crawling round the West End; and she was a very long walk from home. It made her want to scream with frustration. ‘Christ Almighty!’ She tugged at the handle with as much force as she could muster.

Hearing footsteps on the pavement she looked up. Oh, shit, of all people.

Trouble?’

‘It won’t open.’

‘And …’ he gestured to the driver’s door.

‘Accident,’ she cut in, before he could ask, ‘I’ve been using this side … till I got it repaired.’

Chris quickly took in the situation. He tried the lock a few times, and gave the door around the handle a few solid thumps. Then he straightened up. ‘Looks like a taxi,’ he murmured.

There was a moment before he gave her a reassuring smile. ‘A locksmith will sort it out in no time,’ he told her. ‘I’d offer you a lift home myself, but I only live round the corner.’

She looked down at her feet. ‘I’m way over the limit anyhow.’ Then stepping away, she met his eyes again. ‘You moved?’

He nodded. Was he imagining it, or was she being less hostile this evening? Probably all the booze. The cocktails were also affecting him more than he realised, because before he’d even thought about what he was saying, the words were coming out of his mouth. ‘You can call a taxi from my place, if you like. Have a coffee or something while you’re waiting.’

She managed a half-smile as she glanced away. ‘Thanks.’

They walked the short distance back to Chris’s home, Judith’s high heels loud on the midnight streets. Conversation was safe and low-key; it had been a great party, they agreed. Bernie had been the life and soul. Some things never changed. After nearly ten minutes, Chris was reaching inside his jacket pocket for a set of keys, his footsteps slowing. As he made his way towards a short flight of steps leading to a front door he stepped past a BMW, sleek and gleaming in the street light. She couldn’t help observing the proprietorial glance. Unlocking the door, he showed her into a large and beautifully proportioned hallway.

‘Moved up in the world,’ she couldn’t resist saying.

He didn’t know how to respond. Her tone seemed admiring, but with Judith it was hard to tell. So, as he led her into the sitting room he replied, ‘Haven’t been in long. Just a couple of months.’

As they both looked round the room at the pictures and pieces of furniture he’d brought with him from Islington he continued, ‘Most of the stuff’s from the old flat. But I’ve still a lot of work to do, decorating the place.’