sky. Rachel made sure it was comfortable for him and pointed out how much better the Internet connection was than it had been at the cottage, and then there was a wedding—which he’d liked, he’d liked a lot—and there they were, living in a little house, in a little town, and the baby turned out to be Kit, two months after they were married. None of it, Ralph thought, standing outside Luke’s studio on a summer evening in Shoreditch, was remotely,
remotely
, what had been in his head or his imagining when he had last stood there. And that had been no more than four years ago.
Not only had the studio changed, but Luke and Jed had, too. The studio looked very together, very monochrome and modern with sophisticated track lighting and computer screens set at angles, like drawing boards. Luke and Jed were wearing a similar nonchalant kind of nonuniform: black T-shirts, combat trousers, carefully designed trainers, and Luke had a wedding ring now, a flat band of white gold that made his left hand look weirdly grown-up. He gave Ralph a rough hug, and Jed high-fived him and said he’d got to go, good to see him, take care, man, and had hooked a black leather jacket over one shoulder and loped out of the studio and down the stairs, whistling. And then Luke said, “You don’t look too hot, bro.”
Ralph perched on one of the black stools by the computers.
“How’s Charlotte?”
“Great.”
“And Venezia?”
“Amazing.”
Ralph took a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and held them out to Luke.
“Smoke?”
“No thanks,” Luke said, “not anymore. No drugs but alcohol. And not in here.”
“Come
on
—”
“You can smoke outside. Not in here.”
Ralph shrugged. He dropped the pack back in his pocket.
“Tell me,” Luke said.
“What, now? At once?”
“I don’t want you boring Charlotte later. I don’t want Charlotte thinking my brothers are tedious and problematic.”
“Okay then,” Ralph said. He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and stared at the ceiling and the skylight.
“Bad, bad, bad?” Luke said.
“Yup.”
Luke said nothing. He glanced at his watch. Charlotte would be home in ten minutes.
“I’ve had my small-business account closed,” Ralph said.
“Ouch—”
“Sometimes I have to wait up to six months for commission on something I do. Sometimes even longer. That means I need a good overdraft facility, it’s important. No, it’s crucial. And four months ago, the bank just raised the interest rate. Bang. Just like that. Five percent to 9.9 percent, take it or leave it. And—” He stopped. He looked at Luke.
“What?”
“There was my personal overdraft rate. It was bad enough, anyway. It was 9.9. And they upped it, no arguing, to
19.9
percent even though I’d never exceeded the limit. And when I objected, they said I’d only get a better rate when there was more money going in. So I pointed out that more money was hardly likely to go in if I was being caned for my necessary, and
agreed
, business account, and they said tough. I have no assets they seem interested in, so it’s the end of the story. Except that my investors, the friends from Singapore who helped me set this up, aren’t happy. You can imagine the e-mails I’m getting.”
Luke said softly, “It’s scandalous.”
“Too right.”
Luke sighed. He scratched the back of his neck. It wouldn’t help Ralph if he said how sorry he was. Ralph never liked people being sorry for him.
“Have you told Mum and Dad?”
“Not yet.”
“Petra?”
“Nope. Just Ed. And you. Like I said on the phone. I wouldn’t have done that, if I didn’t need you to know before Mum and Dad do.”
Luke jammed his fists into his trouser pockets. He felt terrible about Ralph, but he wanted to be up in the flat before Charlotte got home. He said, scuffing at the black floorboards with the rubber toe cap of his boot, “What are you going to do?”
CHAPTER FOUR
E very weekday morning, Sigrid bought coffee
remotely
, what had been in his head or his imagining when he had last stood there. And that had been no more than four years ago.
Not only had the studio changed, but Luke and Jed had, too. The studio looked very together, very monochrome and modern with sophisticated track lighting and computer screens set at angles, like drawing boards. Luke and Jed were wearing a similar nonchalant kind of nonuniform: black T-shirts, combat trousers, carefully designed trainers, and Luke had a wedding ring now, a flat band of white gold that made his left hand look weirdly grown-up. He gave Ralph a rough hug, and Jed high-fived him and said he’d got to go, good to see him, take care, man, and had hooked a black leather jacket over one shoulder and loped out of the studio and down the stairs, whistling. And then Luke said, “You don’t look too hot, bro.”
Ralph perched on one of the black stools by the computers.
“How’s Charlotte?”
“Great.”
“And Venezia?”
“Amazing.”
Ralph took a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and held them out to Luke.
“Smoke?”
“No thanks,” Luke said, “not anymore. No drugs but alcohol. And not in here.”
“Come
on
—”
“You can smoke outside. Not in here.”
Ralph shrugged. He dropped the pack back in his pocket.
“Tell me,” Luke said.
“What, now? At once?”
“I don’t want you boring Charlotte later. I don’t want Charlotte thinking my brothers are tedious and problematic.”
“Okay then,” Ralph said. He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and stared at the ceiling and the skylight.
“Bad, bad, bad?” Luke said.
“Yup.”
Luke said nothing. He glanced at his watch. Charlotte would be home in ten minutes.
“I’ve had my small-business account closed,” Ralph said.
“Ouch—”
“Sometimes I have to wait up to six months for commission on something I do. Sometimes even longer. That means I need a good overdraft facility, it’s important. No, it’s crucial. And four months ago, the bank just raised the interest rate. Bang. Just like that. Five percent to 9.9 percent, take it or leave it. And—” He stopped. He looked at Luke.
“What?”
“There was my personal overdraft rate. It was bad enough, anyway. It was 9.9. And they upped it, no arguing, to
19.9
percent even though I’d never exceeded the limit. And when I objected, they said I’d only get a better rate when there was more money going in. So I pointed out that more money was hardly likely to go in if I was being caned for my necessary, and
agreed
, business account, and they said tough. I have no assets they seem interested in, so it’s the end of the story. Except that my investors, the friends from Singapore who helped me set this up, aren’t happy. You can imagine the e-mails I’m getting.”
Luke said softly, “It’s scandalous.”
“Too right.”
Luke sighed. He scratched the back of his neck. It wouldn’t help Ralph if he said how sorry he was. Ralph never liked people being sorry for him.
“Have you told Mum and Dad?”
“Not yet.”
“Petra?”
“Nope. Just Ed. And you. Like I said on the phone. I wouldn’t have done that, if I didn’t need you to know before Mum and Dad do.”
Luke jammed his fists into his trouser pockets. He felt terrible about Ralph, but he wanted to be up in the flat before Charlotte got home. He said, scuffing at the black floorboards with the rubber toe cap of his boot, “What are you going to do?”
CHAPTER FOUR
E very weekday morning, Sigrid bought coffee
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