by Caro Fraser
‘It sounds as though your plans are pretty far advanced,’ said Leo. He finished his beer. ‘My inclination is to tell you you’re all mad – but I’ll do as you ask and think about it.’
‘Good,’ said Marcus. ‘More drinks, everyone?’
‘Not for me,’ said Leo. ‘I have to go. I’ll leave you lot to it. Thanks for the drink. Night.’
He put on his raincoat and left. As he walked down the steps to Fountain Court, heading for his car, he tried to identify the feeling of melancholy which the discussion had induced in him. I’m getting old, he thought. To people like Roger, Marcus, Simon and Alison, all under thirty-five, it was self-evident that progress dwelt in ever-advancing communications, in the flexibility they gave to life, the scope for living without reliance on others. But what about the importance of familiarity, of shared experience and surroundings, the comfort of being part of something constant, and yet permanently changing? He turned his collar up against the rain as he passed Middle Temple Hall, and glanced up at its dark, high portals. Not for the first time, it struck Leo that the Temple, his place of work for over twenty-five years, represented more of a home to him than any place he had ever known. And such a home. Its emblem alone dated back to the twelfth century, to the Knights Templar. Chaucer had depicted one of his characters as Middle Temple cook. One of the chief aims of Wat Tyler and his followers during the Peasants’ Revolt had been to sack the Temple and throw out all the lawyers – not so far removed from the aims of Roger and his merry band, reflected Leo. How could they contemplate leaving a place of such history, such sentimental magnificence, merely to earn a few extra thousand and get up a little later in the mornings?
On the other hand, he had to admit there could be certain attractions in working from home. As he unlocked his car and got in, Leo recalled his conversation with Alasdair the previous weekend. Hadn’t Al said that if he had his time over again he’d do it differently, shaping his work round his life, instead of the other way round? Leo drove along Embankment through the evening traffic, thinking it all through. One could see the advantages, certainly. No getting into chambers early to beat the rush hour, which seemed to get worse with each passing month. None of the hassle of being head of chambers – a job where the burdensome responsibilities far outweighed any notional prestige. No need to worry about billing figures, about Maurice, or having to chair endless committees. He’d even be able to collect Oliver from school – in fact, come to think of it, work commitments permitting, he might be able to do it just about every day. Rachel could hardly object, since the present arrangement involved a childminder picking Oliver up and having him for a few hours till Rachel got back from work. Leo recalled the acrimonious conversation they’d had last Sunday night, Rachel’s self-confessed desire to limit Leo’s influence on Oliver. That would scupper her plans. He would become a proper part of Oliver’s life, helping him with his homework, getting to know about his friends and teachers, instead of just being an every-other-weekend fixture. By the time he reached Chelsea, he’d decided that maybe Roger was right. Perhaps the idea of their new venture possessed attractions which hadn’t been apparent at first glance.
Leo drove home, showered and changed, and went out to a birthday party being thrown by a friend in a restaurant in St James’s. Anthea had been in Bermuda since Wednesday, and wouldn’t be back until Sunday, so he was glad of the diversion. Lately he had begun to find evenings spent on his own in the house long and tedious.
Just before midnight, as he was leaving the restaurant, his mobile rang. At the other end was a young woman whose voice he didn’t recognise, but who seemed to be in a state of some agitation.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
At the same moment that Leo was saying goodnight to his friends in the restaurant, Lucy and Georgia were huddled in the ladies loo at Kabaret’s Prophecy, a fashionable Soho club, debating the finer points of their strategy.
‘So, how drunk are you supposed to be? Like, totally hammered? Or just a bit out of it?’
‘Not completely wasted, obviously.’ Lucy shot a glance at her reflection and pulled the Chloé top a little further off her shoulders. ‘Not vomiting in the gutter kind of thing. But pretty bad. Bad enough to ring someone up. Why not say you think someone might’ve spiked my drink?’
Georgia looked doubtful. ‘Because he might want to call an ambulance. Or the police, or something.’
Lucy considered this. ‘OK – but I’ve got to be more than just a bit tipsy. On the way to being wasted, maybe.’
‘I don’t think this is going to work. Isn’t he going to think it totally weird that I’m ringing him, when I don’t even know him?’
‘Trust me – it will work. It’s got to. Anyway, he’s my sister’s boyfriend. He’ll feel he’s got to look after me.’
‘I didn’t know he was your sister’s boyfriend! That’s like – immoral!’
‘Yeah, well …’ Lucy smudged a little more eyeliner on her lower lids. She met Georgia’s gaze in the mirror and grinned. Georgia grinned back.
‘My God, Lucy, you’re so bad!’
‘I can’t help it.’ She took her mobile phone from her bag, scrolled to Leo’s number, and handed it to Georgia. ‘Come on, let’s do it.’
Leo had been on the brink of hailing a cab when his mobile rang. It had just begun to rain. He stepped back onto the pavement as he answered his phone, trying to make sense of the strange young woman at the other end.
‘I’m sorry – do I know you? … Georgia? A friend of Lucy’s? Lucy who? No, I don’t—’ The name registered. ‘Anthea’s sister? Well, I don’t understand – why are you ringing me?’ Leo scanned the street for more taxis as he listened; now that it had started to rain, he’d probably never get one. ‘I see. Look, I don’t want to be unhelpful, but I’m not sure what you expect me to do about it. I suggest you put her in a taxi and take her home … She’s gone where? … When will she be back? I see. Then take her to her sister’s flat. She has a key, as I understand it … What, all of them?’ Leo was feeling distinctly exasperated. ‘Look, I really don’t think I can help you. I barely know Lucy, and I’m sure you or some of her other friends are better able to—What? Well, why not?’ Leo listened for another few seconds, then gave a sigh. ‘Where are you? Right. I’ll come in a taxi. Look after her till I get there.’
Georgia snapped the phone shut and she and Lucy doubled up, giggling.
‘Ohmigod, he’s really coming!’ squeaked Lucy, when she’d got her breath back. ‘Georgie, you were amazing! You sounded so, so worried! It was so convincing! And when you said that stuff about me losing my keys—’
‘I know! I don’t know how he ever believed that!’
‘Cos you’re a brilliant actress. My God, you deserve an Oscar.’
‘He sounded really pissed off, though, Luce. Like he didn’t want to know.’
‘Of course he did. But he’s coming, isn’t he? Just leave the rest to me.’
‘Well, start acting like you’re smashed, because he’ll be here soon. Come on, we’d better go upstairs and do our stuff on the pavement.’
Leo caught a cab and headed towards Soho, tired and extremely irate. He’d had quite a lot to drink at the restaurant, and the last thing he needed, at midnight on a Friday, was to have to rescue Anthea’s drunk, twenty-something sister from the gutters of Soho. How had she got hold of his number? Anthea, he presumed. Well, if the girl was capable of instructing this Georgia friend of hers to ring it, then perhaps she wasn’t in too bad a state. He hoped not. But if she was, better that he should bail her out than that the police should pick her up. Anthea wouldn’t like that.
When he got to Dean Street the late-night crowds were filling the streets, most of them drunk and raucous, and the atmosphere lent authenticity to the little vignette which Georgia and Lucy were putting together on the pavement outside the club. Lucy was leaning against the wall, apparently much the worse for wear, with Georgia steadying her and looking anxious. Leo’s cab drew up on the corner, and L
ucy clocked it through half-closed eyes.
‘That’s him,’ she murmured to Georgia, her heart giving a little lurch at the gorgeous sight of him as he got out and told the cabbie to wait.
‘Here he comes,’ whispered Georgia. ‘He looks annoyed.’
Lucy gave a little whimpering groan and slumped back against the wall. Leo, drawing closer, recognised Lucy and stopped. He glanced at Georgia. ‘Hi – I’m Leo.’ He gazed for a few seconds at Lucy. ‘Right – she doesn’t look too good. Isn’t there anyone else with you?’ He put out a hand to steady Lucy as she slid slightly sideways on the wall.
‘No,’ said Georgia. ‘I don’t know what to do with her.’ My God, thought Georgia, he really was old – forty at least. Good-looking, yeah, but totally ancient. She hoped Luce knew what she was doing.
A group of yelling youths swayed past; they leered and whistled at Lucy, who appeared to be almost comatose. This wasn’t a healthy place for a vulnerable young woman late on a Friday night.
‘Well, look – I suggest you take her back to your place,’ said Leo, wondering why this hadn’t occurred to him earlier. ‘Where do you live? You can take my cab, and I’ll find another.’
This was unexpected. Thinking on her feet, Georgia said, ‘I can’t. I really can’t. My mother would absolutely go ballistic if she saw Lucy like this. Lucy’s mum’s a friend of hers. Please – that’s the last thing Lucy needs.’
It seemed a slightly odd thing for a twenty-something-year-old to say, but Leo supposed that if you lived with your parents, it was understandable. He even felt a little sorry for Lucy. Evidently her mother wasn’t too concerned what her daughter got up to, since she seemed to be away a good deal. Someone had to look after her, and in the absence of Anthea, Leo supposed it was up to him.
He sighed. ‘All right. She’d better come with me. Her sister will be back tomorrow, in any event.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ said Georgia, the relief in her voice not entirely feigned. She helped Leo to steer a stumbling Lucy to the cab waiting on the corner.
The cabbie looked over his shoulder at Lucy, who lay back against the seat with her eyes shut. ‘I hope she’s not going to start chucking up in the back of my cab.’
‘I doubt it,’ said Leo. ‘Let’s hope not, anyway.’ He turned to Georgia. ‘What about you? I can’t just leave you here.’
‘Um – I can get the bus,’ said Georgia, who had other friends in the club whom she intended to rejoin any minute. ‘Really – don’t worry. I’ll be fine. You look after Lucy. I’m so grateful.’
Georgia stood on the pavement and watched as the cab drove off. My God, you had to admit that Lucy had some nerve, doing what she was doing. Georgia couldn’t wait to hear about it at school on Monday.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
As the cab made its way towards Hyde Park, Lucy turned her head a little and glanced surreptitiously at Leo through half-closed eyes. He was gazing out at the traffic, his face grim. She gave a moan and a faint cough, and Leo turned to look at her. She opened fluttering eyelids. ‘Lucy? How are you feeling?’
Aware that her recovery mustn’t appear too rapid, Lucy closed her eyes again, then after a few seconds muttered, ‘Not too good.’
‘I’m hardly surprised. How much did you have to drink?’
She put her hand to her head. ‘I don’t know. Not a lot.’ Her eyes still closed, she put out a feeble hand and clutched his arm; it was magical just to be touching him.
‘What’s wrong? Are you going to be sick?’
She shook her head slowly, and decided to relapse into groggy silence for the remainder of the journey, with her hand resting on his sleeve. He didn’t appear to mind.
By the time they reached Chelsea, Lucy reckoned it was OK for her to seem like she was a bit better. When Leo tried to help her out of the cab she said faintly, ‘It’s fine, I can manage.’ When they got into the house – which Lucy, on a swift appraisal, thought was pretty cool – she decided for dramatic effect to go downhill for a minute or two. She fell into an armchair with a moan and closed her eyes. Leo dropped his jacket on the sofa and looked down at her.
‘I’ll make us both some coffee.’ He felt he could do with some – the birthday celebrations had been extremely good, but those last two brandies might have been a mistake. Then again, he hadn’t anticipated having to rescue Anthea’s ditzy little sister at the end of the evening.
While Leo was busy in the kitchen, Lucy sat up slowly and had a good look round. The room was furnished in expensive good taste, with leather sofas and armchairs dotted around the spotless blonde-wood floor, discreetly placed lighting accentuating carefully positioned pictures and pieces of sculpture. Two uplighters cast an intimate glow around the room. Lucy slipped off her red shoes and raked her fingers through her hair, waiting for Leo to return.
He brought through a tray with a cafetière and two cups, and set it down on a glass-topped table near to Lucy’s chair.
‘Thanks,’ said Lucy weakly, as he handed her a cup. ‘I’m feeling a bit better now.’
Leo regarded her as she sipped her coffee. ‘You seem to have made a rapid recovery,’ he observed. ‘You can’t have been very drunk.’
‘I wasn’t,’ said Lucy. ‘I just began to feel really awful when I was in the club. Sort of faint and dizzy. I can’t think what it was.’ She gave him a doleful little smile. ‘Thank you so much for coming to get me.’
‘That’s all right. How did you manage to lose all your keys?’
‘I don’t know. I’m a bit dopey like that. Always losing things.’ She lay back in the chair. Best not to appear too perky – the mood had to remain low-key. She glanced around slowly. ‘This is a lovely room.’
‘Thank you.’ Leo sipped his coffee. He couldn’t help noticing that the manner in which she lay sprawled in the large armchair was both provocative, but apparently entirely unselfconscious. Her little black satin skirt, which was diminutive enough in the first place, had ridden up, and he could glimpse the tops of her sheer black hold-up stockings, and the flimsy but very pretty top she was wearing had slipped off one creamy shoulder. Her eyes, dark and distant as she glanced around the room, were large and childlike. To ward off the thoughts which had come unbidden to his mind, he rose and said, ‘I’ll go and check the bed’s made up in the spare room.’
‘Please stay and talk for a bit,’ said Lucy, her voice still faint.
Leo hesitated. ‘Did you enjoy the Kandinsky exhibition?’ she asked. She sounded like she wanted to talk to make herself feel better. He could understand that. He sat back down on the sofa.
They talked about the exhibition for ten minutes or so. A short silence fell, at the end of which Leo said, ‘There’s nothing really wrong with you, is there?’
Lucy gazed at him, then slowly shook her head. ‘Not now. Not now I’m here. With you.’ And to his astonishment she came in one gliding movement from her chair to where he sat, and knelt before him, her hands resting on his thighs. ‘Leo, I just want to be with you.’ Before he could say anything more, she rose up, put an arm around his neck, drew his face towards hers and kissed him. Her kiss was so deliciously tentative that for a few helpless seconds he found himself responding. He fought back the urge to kiss her more deeply and drew away.
‘Did you do this on purpose?’ asked Leo. She nodded, her eyes dark and huge. ‘Jesus Christ,’ he murmured, his voice a mixture of disbelief and regretful desire. He took her arm gently from around his neck. ‘Lucy, I’m seeing your sister. Whatever you came here for is not going to happen.’
‘Oh, yes it is,’ she breathed. ‘I want you so much, Leo. I’ve wanted you for ages. We’re here now, just you and me, so we might as well enjoy it.’ And she tried to press her mouth against his again. Leo grasped her upper arms and pushed her gently away.
‘You set up that entire little charade just for this?’
‘Don’t sound like that. It’ll be worth it, honestly.’
He stared at her curiously and intently for a moment,
then said, ‘Lucy – how old are you?’
She gave a small, trembling smile. His touch seemed to have set her whole body on fire. She wanted very badly to kiss him again, to let her body melt into his, and let whatever he wanted to happen, happen. ‘Seventeen,’ she murmured.
‘Seventeen? You’re seventeen and you go around pulling stunts like this deliberately to seduce your sister’s—’ He groped for a word. ‘Men-friends?’
‘Oh, Leo, it’ll be lovely. I want you to teach me – everything.’ Her lips were perilously close to his; her breath smelt like clover, and her skin beneath his fingers was soft and young. She was every dirty old man’s dream, thought Leo, which made him … But the very next thing she said appalled him. ‘I’ve never made love to anyone before. I want you to be the first. Please.’ She had begun to unfasten the little crystal buttons of her blouse.
Leo let out a short laugh, though he felt like crying. ‘Stop,’ he said; but she didn’t seem to hear him, and tried to kiss him again. ‘Lucy—’ He grasped her shoulders as her flimsy top fell open, and shook her – not hard, but hard enough to make her look at him properly, clearly, like someone waking up. ‘Lucy, I have no intention of doing anything with you, or to you. Do you understand? This is the worst idea you have ever had in your young life, believe me. Leaving aside your age, and what you’ve just told me, it’s not my habit to sleep with the sisters of my girlfriends.’ As he said this, Leo tried to recall whether it was strictly accurate or not. Probably not.
She looked at him in astonishment. ‘Don’t you want me? Why don’t you want me?’ Tears filled her lovely eyes. ‘Leo, I love you so much!’
Firmly but gently, and feeling older than he ever had done, Leo said, ‘No, you don’t, I promise you. This is all a huge, rather silly mistake.’ She gazed at him miserably with damp eyes, her mouth wobbling a bit, tendrils of dark hair around her young face, blouse hanging open to expose small, rosy breasts. She was temptation incarnate, thought Leo. He lifted his hands from her shoulders and began to do up her buttons one by one. Then taking her gently by the hands, he stood up, bringing her to her feet, and said, ‘You’ll have to stay here tonight, because frankly I don’t know what else to do with you. But I don’t want to hear one more word of this nonsense about me and you. Not a word. Do you understand?’