Page 18 of Lessons in Life

‘I waited for you after school,’ I said, ‘but you weren’t answering your phone and then I had to go to a meeting.’

‘Robyn, just because you’re teaching at my school doesn’t mean you have to be my minder. I’m more than capable of getting the bus home. Which I did today.’

‘You’re freezing, darling.’ Mum moved towards Sorrel, who was shivering. ‘Come on through, by the fire. Come and get warm. Your dad’s here.’

‘Blimey, what did we do to deserve another visit fromhimso soon after Christmas?’

‘He’s in the sitting room, talking to Fabian.’

‘Fabian’s here?’ Sorrel asked, her head turning. ‘Where is he?’

‘Who? Dad?’

‘No,’ she snapped, impatiently. ‘Fabian.’

‘In the sitting room talking to Dad,’ I said once more.

‘Good.’

‘Why d’you want to talk to Fabian?’ I smiled at Sorrel, pleased that she appeared to be showing an interest in him.

Without another word, and without taking off her coat, Sorrel headed for the sitting room, Mum and I following behind.

‘Fabian, are you still soliciting?’

Jayden laughed loudly at that. ‘Think you’ve got the wrong word there, sweetheart.’ He leaned over to give Sorrel a welcoming hug and kiss, but she brushed him off irritably and went to stand in front of Fabian, whom she’d met on the one occasion, just before Christmas, when I’d finally introduced him to my family.

‘Are you?’ Sorrel demanded.

‘Hello, Sorrel. How lovely to see you again.’ Fabian, always polite and friendly, smiled down at her from his six-foot-two height. ‘You OK? What’s the matter?’

‘Are you still doing what you did in London?’ Sorrel spoke quickly, her words tumbling out at speed. ‘I mean, we know all about how you were going to defend the Soho Slasher. I saw you on TV.’

‘Not any more, no.’ Fabian’s tone was kind, but firm. ‘I left London to get away from all that.’

‘Oh? Not to be near me, then?’ I went to refill Fabian’s glass before turning to my little sister. ‘What’s up, Sorrel?’

‘I want Fabian to defend Joel.’ She folded her arms almost defiantly as she waited for his response.

‘Sorrel!’ I put out a hand. ‘Fabian’s a barrister. He’s not a solicitor. And he’s… well, he’s… resting at the moment. You know like when I was working at Graphite in Mayfair when I didn’t have a part at the theatre?’

‘Fabian’s having a bit of a rest,’ Lola put in sagely. ‘He’s very tired. Here, have one of these, Sorrel.’ Lola thrust the plate of hors d’oeuvres in Sorrel’s direction.

But Sorrel, ignoring both me and her ten-year-old niece, moved closer to Fabian and continued to speak in a low, urgent voice.

‘Fabian, my friend Joel’s coming out of hospital at some point.’

‘Well, that’s good, Sorrel…’ I began, but Sorrel shook her head impatiently at me.

‘Joel’s being discharged soon, but I’m not sure when. I’ve just been up to the hospital…’

‘In this snow?’ Mum interrupted.

‘It’s nearly gone, Mum, and the bus goes straight from outside school down to Midhope and the hospital.’

‘But…’ Mum put out a hand, her face etched with concern.

‘They wouldn’t let me see him, but I managed to have a word with one of the nurses. She said she thinks he’s being remanded. Or was it bailed? I can’t remember which.’ Sorrel turned to Fabian. ‘What does that mean? That he’s going to prison?’

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