‘I’ll sort something out.’
Her mother looked sceptical. ‘Sorry, sweetie, I have to fly,’ she said, gathering her things. ‘I fancy quail tonight and if I don’t pop downstairs and buy it now, I’ll never make the five fifty train.’
Sasha felt anger rise up in her stomach. It didn’t seem so long ago that her mother would have done anything to improve the social lot of her only daughter. Why couldn’t she understand? Did she want Sasha to end up stranded in suburbia like her?
‘I see,’ said Sasha bitterly. ‘You can do your weekly shop at Harrods food hall and fill your wardrobe with clothes you hardly wear, but you can’t give your daughter a home.’
Carole glared at her. ‘Don’t speak to me like that.’
‘Well, I thought you wanted the best for me.’
‘Of course I do, but your father . . .’
Sasha frowned. ‘What about Dad? Doesn’t he want me to have a nice flat?’
With evident reluctance, Carole sat down again, then glanced around to make sure they weren’t being overheard.
‘If you must know, there’s been a change of management at your father’s company. They’ve been talking about redundancies.’
Sasha panicked. ‘Daddy’s going to lose his job?’
‘No, nothing like that. But he might have to go down to three or four days a week. It’s this bloody recession.’
Sasha put her hand over her mouth. ‘Oh God,’ she said. It had been bad enough lying about her background for so long, she couldn’t stand to actually be poor.
Carole put her hand on Sasha’s. ‘Don’t worry, your dad and I will be fine.’
It’s not you I’m worried about, thought Sasha, glancing at her mother’s carrier bags with irritation.
‘Can I give you some advice, mother to daughter?’ added Carole. ‘Why don’t you give Miles a ring?’
Sasha couldn’t believe her ears. Her mother had seen how upset she had been after she had flown back from Angel Cay. And anyway, she had tried to ring him – he didn’t seem too keen to pick up the phone.
‘What do you suggest, Mother?’ she said sarcastically. ‘That I should ask him to pay my rent?’
Carole waved the jibe away. ‘But darling, he’ll be back from Oxford for the holidays. He’ll have spent a whole term surrounded by all those plain, swotty bluestockings. Now’s the time to strike.’
Sasha stood up and pushed her chair in. ‘I can’t believe you’d suggest such a thing,’ she said, picking up her portfolio. ‘You may be happy to whore yourself to a man, but that is something I will never do.’
Registering with satisfaction the look of shock and outrage on her mother’s face, she turned on her heel and walked out. Well, if she won’t give me what I want, she thought, I’ll just have to get it myself.
And she smiled for the first time in days.
Standing in the warmth of Caroline’s bedroom, Sasha pulled the contents of her small overnight bag on to her friend’s bed. It was depressingly slim pickings for a night out. One dress, two tops and a pair of white jeans.
‘So what’s the party tonight?’ asked Caroline as she unselfconsciously stripped off.
‘Oh, just some drinks company. Are Deborah and Jenny coming out?’ Sasha asked. Caroline’s two housemates hadn’t been in when she arrived.
‘No. Deb’s got her office party and Jenny’s got this new boyfriend.’
‘The one she met at Raffles?’
‘The one with the Porsche. Anyway, speaking of those two . . .’ Caroline took a sip of her Lambrusco. ‘Debs was asking when . . . if you’re going to start paying some, er, some rent.’
‘Rent? For the bike shed?’
‘It’s part of the house,’ said Caroline.