Errors of Judgment Read Online Free PDF Page B

What do you two think?’
    Sarah realised that Caroline was asking her a direct question, and roused herself. ‘Well, Toby and I haven’t really discussed it yet.’ She turned to look at Toby.
    ‘No,’ agreed Toby. ‘We’ll have to give it some thought. Though those are probably the best months.’
    Caroline sipped her coffee. She was a small woman, with a very downy face, bright, questing eyes, and a dumpy, pear-shaped figure. Sarah, who found it hard to believe that such a short woman could have such an enormous arse, couldn’t help worrying about the genes. What if she had a child with a backside that big? A tiny baby with an outsize bottom, straining its nappy the way Caroline Kittering’s buttocks strained the fabric of her Country Casuals skirt. She’d just have to hope that any children they had took after Toby and his father, who were both tall and more or less conventionally shaped.
    ‘Well, you’ll have to get your skates on,’ said Caroline. ‘Not long till November, and next year will be on us before we know it. Lots to do! If we’re going to have the wedding here we’ll have to start thinking about a marquee, and booking the church.’ She turned to Toby’s father. ‘Jon-Jon, it might be an idea if you had a word with the vicar. St Luke’s gets very booked up.’
    Christ, thought Sarah, a six-month run-up, and it could only get worse as the detail kicked in. To say nothing of post-wedding fallout. Camcorder footage, photo albums, fond reminiscence. She hadn’t realised how oppressive beingdrawn into the bosom of Toby’s loving family would be. Her own experience of family life, as an only child, had been quite different, everyone casually and fleetingly affectionate, but operating largely in their own separate spheres. Even before her mother had died when Sarah was fifteen, family intimacy had never been on this intense, need-to-know- and-interfere basis. How did Toby stand it? Perhaps with two sisters and a brother the effect was diluted.
    Then again, maybe there were worse things than marrying into a boring family. The in-laws of a recently married friend of Sarah’s had turned out to be as mad as a box of frogs. The wedding had been hilariously awful, with family rows and drunken, spiteful speeches. At least Caroline and Jon-Jon were safe and reliable. Perhaps she would come to find something reassuring in their dreary conventionality, their nice house, their nice neighbours, and their fearful self-satisfaction. The countrified middle classes hanging on by their fingertips to a disappearing way of life in the face of collapsing banks, terrorist threats, the disappearance of rural post offices, socially engineered universities, imploding property prices and The Third Runway.
    Toby glanced at his watch, and Sarah’s heart rose. ‘I think,’ said Toby, setting down his coffee cup, ‘that we’d better be making a move. I need to get back to town before five.’
    ‘Don’t you want to stay and watch the rugby?’ asked his father. ‘Wales versus France.’
    ‘Not this time, Dad. Sorry.’
    Not this time, thought Sarah. That implied another time. Another time when Toby and his father would settle down in front of the HD telly for an afternoon of sport, whileshe helped Caroline with the pots and pans, listening to Caroline talk, and watching Caroline’s monumental bum rolling around the kitchen. Maybe she should develop a fierce devotion to rugby. It couldn’t be hard. Look at the people who played and watched it. Certainly no worse than cricket. Then she could book her place on the sofa with the boys. Somehow she couldn’t see Caroline letting that happen. Traditional gender roles seemed pretty clearly defined and respected in the Kittering household.
    Toby got up and stretched, fishing for his car keys. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with light-brown hair, and a face that was handsome without being remarkable, the product of solid middle-class nurturing and a public school education,