Page 21 of A Class Act

‘Ecstatic.’ I smiled. ‘I really, really am.’

‘Does that mean you can give up your job at Graphite?’

I nodded. ‘Thank goodness. Don’t really think I’m cut out to serve the public – the posh public at that…’ I trailed off, looking round at the beautiful apartment, taking in the understated décor, the obviously expensive fabric at the window and the white baby grand piano in the corner, before bringing my gaze back to Fabian himself.

He was wearing jeans and an immaculate white T-shirt: apart from a narrow tan leather belt that accentuated not only his slim waist but also his broad chest, that was it. Nothing on his feet and the plain gold watch on his left wrist. I took a long gulp from my glass, suddenly feeling shy, vulnerable even. Here I was, in the ultra-chic fourth-floor apartment of a man I knew very little about, drinking champagne while wondering what was going to happen next. What I was supposed tosaynext.

‘How long have you lived here?’ I asked, sounding like a hairdresser. ‘It must be well placed, central for your work?’

‘It is.’

‘Right.’

Fabian smiled, relenting a little. ‘The apartment was originally my great-grandfather’s. My grandfather, my motherand then, until recently, my brother Julius have all lived here for a while before moving out to the sticks.’

‘You’re very lucky.’

‘Lucky?’

‘To have things handed to you on a plate.’

Fabian pulled a face. ‘Bit unfair, that. I’ve worked many years and long hours to get where I am with my work. I don’t just swan in at 10a.m. and say a few words to persuade the judge and jury of my client’s innocence, you know.’

‘But you have somewhere very lovely to come back to, once you’ve done that.’

‘You disapprove?’

‘I approve very much of the apartment – although, to be honest, I think I’d miss a front door and a garden. And some countryside.’

‘Which is why my family moved out and I moved in. I guess Julius’s and Jemima’s kids will have the apartment next…’

‘And your own?’ I had a sudden thought. ‘Hang on, are you married? Your wife and 2.4 children farmed out in deepest darkest Bucks while you continue to frolic and live the sybaritic single life during the week, before heading back to them at the weekend?’

Fabian laughed at that. ‘Sybaritic?’ He held up his own glass of champagne. ‘I can assure you, Robyn, this is as self-indulgent as it gets on a Friday evening. And you were with me at the weekend. Did you see any evidence of a wife and children?’

‘What about Fish Face?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘The girl you were with at Graphite who has an allergy to all finned fish.’

Fabian pulled a face. ‘Does she? Don’t all fish have fins?’ He considered for a few seconds. ‘Well, not prawns and oysterset al, but are they fish?’

‘She’s very beautiful.’

‘She is.’

There was polite reservation in Fabian Carrington that I’d never come across in the men I usually hung out with, and I wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. I drank more of my champagne, but saw that Fabian took only a few sips of his own.

It was clear he wasn’t about to divulge any possible relationships he was in. And why should he? Dating rules, especially in big cities like London, had evolved into something quite different from those extravagant little scenarios I’d acted out with my Barbie and Ken as a kid.OneBarbie – and definitelyoneKen – living happily ever after as Barbie donned her wedding finery and walked up the aisle. Maybe I’d overindulged myself in such idealistic yet unrealistic scenes to compensate for the reality of Mum and Jayden’s relationship. And why I loved the romance of musical theatre so much. A psychoanalyst would have a field day with me, I reckoned.

‘You live here alone?’ I finally asked.

‘I do. I like the solitude.’

‘And your brother? Julius?’ I thought I’d better wave hello to the elephant in the room. After all, it was his fault I’d jumped out of Fabian’s car the other night.

‘He got married last year and moved out to Surrey.’

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