4
I left the office at six, early for me, and walked home. My route took me up from the Financial District over the Common to Beacon Hill. It was a warm evening for early October, and there were plenty of people walking about in shirt sleeves or T-shirts. But there had already been a couple of cold nights, and the first of the leaves were beginning to turn.
I walked slowly, trying to relax, letting the low sunlight caress my face. There was no doubt that fall was the best time of year in Boston. And winter was the worst. In a couple of months I would be battling through the bitter cold to make my way home.
Beacon Hill was quiet, as usual. I stepped past a woman cajoling four dogs back from the Common to their various mistresses, and smiled politely at a man who gestured at the 'goddamned son of a bitch' who had taken two parking spaces with one car. Parking and dog shit were the two big issues on Beacon Hill. I was for one and against the other, but in this neighbourhood it was prudent to keep such opinions to yourself.
Half way up the hill to my right was where Gil lived, a sedate town house on Louisburg Square, supposedly the most expensive piece of residential real estate in New England. But our apartment was on the 'flat' of the hill, at the bottom, down a pretty little street of dappled sunlight, green leaves and black railings.
I had just broken out a bottle of Sam Adams from the refrigerator when Lisa came in.
'You're early,' I said.
'So are you,' she replied, and gave me a kiss. 'It's kinda nice, isn't it?' She hugged me. 'What's wrong? Bad day?'
'Horrible day.'
'Oh no. What happened?'
I got her a beer and we sat down together on the sofa. She tucked herself under my arm and listened as I told her about the meeting, about the way Frank had humiliated me and the stand I had taken at the end. Then I told her about Craig's reaction. I had been dying to talk to Lisa about it all day.
She exploded. 'I can't believe Dad did that! Let me call him right now'
'No, don't do that.'
'Simon! He shouldn't jerk you around at work. That's way out of line.' She untangled herself from me and moved towards the telephone.
'No, stop Lisa!' I said. 'That'll only make it worse.'
She picked up the phone. I put my finger on the cradle.
She glanced at me, and seemed to calm down.
I pulled her to me and kissed her. 'It's sweet of you to be so concerned,' I said. And it was. For Lisa to come down on my side so unambiguously was exactly what I wanted. 'So far, I've managed to keep my relationship with him at work purely professional. I'd like to try to stick to that.'
'OK,' she said reluctantly. 'I bet he's upset about seeing you with Diane last week. But he's overreacting. No way should he have done that to you.'
'No, he shouldn't have.' I picked up my beer, and took a swig. 'Gil wants to see me tomorrow.'
'What are you going to say?'
'I don't know. Maybe I should resign. I promised Craig the money. I mean we promised it to him, Frank and I. And now Gil expects me to pull the plug on Net Cop. I'm not sure I can live with that.'
'Can't Craig get money from somewhere else?'
I shook my head. 'No other venture firm would touch him if Revere pulled out now.'
'What about his customers? In the biotech world small companies are always doing deals with the big pharma companies who market their drugs.'
I paused for a moment to consider the suggestion. 'We could give it a go. It'd be difficult. But it's worth a try.'
Lisa took a gulp of her beer.
'What do you think?' I asked her.
She was silent. I waited.
'Do you really want to quit?' she said eventually.
'No. But I think maybe I should.'
'But do you want to? Give up, I mean.'
'No, of course I don't want to give up,' I said. 'But sometimes you can be forced into a position where the only right thing to do is resign. I'm afraid that's what's happened to me.'
'I guess you can give up if you want to. And it sounds like you've got a real problem. You can either run away from it, or you can try to solve it. Your choice.'
I listened to what she was saying. 'You talk about 'giving up'. I was thinking that resigning was the honourable thing to do. The courageous thing to do.'
'Quitting is quitting,' said Lisa. 'Look, I'm not suggesting that you forget your promise to Craig. Sure, you've let him down. It wasn't your fault, but you've got him in a horrible mess. So you've got to get him out again.'
'Net Cop is history.'
'Not yet, it isn't,' Lisa replied. 'I've never seen such a determined guy as Craig. He's smart. So are you. You'll figure something out.'
Her confidence in me was touching. But misplaced.
'I'll think about it.'
The phone rang. I picked it up. I heard the clear English tones of my sister.
'Helen! What time is it? It's the middle of the night in London, isn't it?'
'I couldn't sleep. And I thought this would be a good time to get you at home.' She sounded tired. Tired and worried.
'What's up?' I said. It had to be bad news. Bad news always happened to Helen.
'I spoke to the lawyers today. They think we can appeal. I don't know what to do about it.'
'But we lost the case. What makes them think we'll win an appeal? More fees?'
'They've found two more expert witnesses who will say that the doctor was definitely negligent. They're good. Well respected. Lots of letters after their names.'
'They'll need to be paid, of course.'
'Of course. And so will the lawyers. Especially the barrister. That's the killer.'
It was. Helen had already spent all her meagre savings on the case. And I had spent all mine. And Lisa's. And I'd added all I could to my business school loan. Sixty-five thousand pounds had been swallowed up by the lawsuit. And after all that, Matthew still had cerebral palsy, and Helen had still been forced to give up her career in a television production company. She had taken on a job as a part time secretary so that she could spend most of her time looking after him.
'Have you spoken to Piers?'
Piers was Matthew's father, an unsuccessful TV scriptwriter who had disappeared from Helen's life just before the boy had been born.
'There's no point. He has no interest, and he has no money, and he's no bloody use at all.'
'What about Mother?'
'Come on! I haven't spoken to her for six months!'
Our mother, Lady Ayot, hadn't approved of her daughter having a baby out of wedlock. Besides which, she had no money either.
'What do you want to do?' I asked.
Helen sighed. 'If we win, we could get a large settlement. Enough for me to look after Matthew. And we'd get costs, so I could pay you back.'
'That doesn't matter,' I said.
'It does to me,' said Helen.
What mattered was how Helen was going to look after her son without a full-time job, a husband, or any money. That was what mattered. I was very fond of my younger sister. She had come through a cold upbringing very well. She deserved more than this.
'And if we lose?'
