A Perfect Obsession

by Caro Fraser

  ‘You didn’t answer my phone call. I knew if I left another, you’d ignore that, too. I had to come and see you.’

  He stood looking at her in the eerie halogen glow of the street lights, trying to read her eyes, but failing. She might be entirely off her head, so this had to be handled carefully. ‘I didn’t ask you to call me, Melissa. I had no reason to ring you back. I’m sorry if you were offended.’

  ‘Leo, I’m not offended. Only sad. I just want us to be friends.’ She laid a hand on his arm. The pressure of those fingers. She kept her hand there, the fingers tightening and relaxing, tightening, relaxing.

  Leo tried to draw his arm away. ‘Melissa—’

  But before he could say any more, her arms were around him, pinioning him, and her face was close against his, her mouth groping for his. ‘Please, Leo, just tonight. Let me be with you tonight. You can’t start something and not finish it. You don’t know what you do to me. I know we could be good together.’ Between her gasping words she was trying to kiss him, to embrace him feverishly. With a struggle Leo pulled away from her and grabbed her wrists, holding her fast, feeling her resistance. Jesus, she was strong.

  ‘Listen,’ he muttered furiously, as she moaned and mouthed at him. ‘Understand this. I don’t even like you. I don’t want you anywhere near me. I wish to God I’d never met you!’ Leo could feel himself trembling with rage and revulsion, and something like fear. He hated to lose control, and this woman had brought him to it. It was vile to have to use the amount of force he was exerting just to keep her hands away from him, and her body from his. ‘Now get out of here, leave me entirely alone, or I’ll call the police.’

  He felt her suddenly relax, and saw her eyes spilling over suddenly with huge, mad tears. Her body sagged a little. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry!’ She gave a little shuddering wail and he loosened his grasp and let her hands drop. He watched, appalled, as her face contorted with misery and she wept like a child. It was embarrassing, and more terrifying still. ‘I just love you so! I can’t help it! I waited all evening! I hoped you’d be …’ The rest was lost in sobbing and wailing so loud that Leo feared its wracking echoes in the mews would wake people up. He glanced around, expecting lights to come on.

  Through gritted teeth he tried to soothe her, calm her, his mind working on ways to get rid of her. It was all he wanted. At last he managed to find out that she had driven here earlier, that she was parked nearby, and he led her stumbling and sobbing across the cobbles to her car. He could detect no smell of drink about her, so presumably she would be all right to drive. On the other hand, it was more than a little alarming to know that she could do this kind of thing sober. As they walked she kept telling him between sobs how sorry she was, and how much she loved him, and he answered by saying it was fine and he quite saw the problem. It didn’t matter what he said. By the time they reached her car she had calmed down a little, though tears were still pouring down her cheeks, unstoppable. She stood by the car, drawing quavering breaths.

  ‘Go home, Melissa, and don’t ever come here again,’ said Leo. ‘I mean it. And get rid of any ideas about me. I don’t think this is healthy.’

  She fumbled for her keys and got into the car. He closed the door firmly and walked away. At the corner he turned to watch. He couldn’t feel entirely unconcerned about leaving her here, but he was damned if he was going to do anything else. He could see her profile as she sat there in the car, staring straight ahead. He waited, hoping she would start the engine and drive away. When she didn’t, he turned on his heel and walked across the deserted square.

  In his flat, he poured himself a drink and drew the curtains, resisting the temptation to peer across the square to see if her car was still there. He couldn’t afford to care. The light on his answering machine was blinking, but he didn’t dare press it, in case she might have left some demented message. He couldn’t take any more of that this evening. Damn the woman! He wrenched off his tie, drained the remains of his whisky, and went to get ready for bed. There he lay for a long time, reflecting. It was his own fault. That was what could happen if you made a move on some infatuated female. Being pissed was no excuse. And he’d just done it again, that very evening, only hours before. Stupid, stupid … He wondered exactly what hideous kind of trouble he had stored up for himself. He should steer clear of women. The last disquieting image he had, before he fell asleep, was of Melissa still sitting out there in the darkness in her car; waiting.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A week later, Anthony was sitting in the Admiralty Court, gazing down at his papers and listening dispiritedly as the judge threw out each and every one of his clients’ claims. He had known from the start that this case was doomed, but it was no fun to hear it spelt out.

  ‘The next item,’ intoned Mr Justice Stubbs, turning to the next page of his judgment, ‘is in respect of fuel, bonded stores and paint. As regards the fuel, this is put forward at twenty-one thousand pounds for two hundred tonnes of gas oil. This strikes me as a most unlikely quantity for a vessel following completion of the ballast passage …’

  Anthony knew that it wasn’t just losing this case that was making him feel so dejected. He felt generally fed up these days. It seemed that everything outside chambers bored him, even going to the cinema or theatre, or to dinner with friends, or to parties such as the one he had been to last Saturday. A year ago, having someone like the nubile young Serena Williams coming on to him in such a blatant way would have kept him happy for a week. But he hadn’t been able to muster enthusiasm for her, much to her clear annoyance. Even that he’d failed to find flattering.

  ‘… the material before me being so very limited, I cannot accept that the plaintiffs’ claim of twenty-six thousand seven hundred pounds has been proved. Next there is a claim for wages and NAT from July to December in the sum of forty-five thousand pounds. I cannot see why the full period is claimed—’ the judge shook his head, ‘—since the crew were repatriated in September …’

  Ever since the end of his affair with Camilla last year, he had been determined to avoid serious relationships. They just ended up as disasters. But the idea of occasional flings or one-night stands didn’t seem to work either. There was something shallow and pointless about that kind of trivial relationship with whatever available girl happened along. Lots of his friends seemed to exist happily in that way, but Anthony knew it would never be enough for him. He wondered gloomily whether this was the consequence of coming from a dysfunctional family. He needed real companionship, someone like-minded, someone to complete him. But after his previous encounters with women, he wasn’t about to start looking again. He sighed and tried to stretch his long legs, which were cramped from sitting in the narrow benches. Even the female element in chambers seemed set against him. Though that was mainly his own fault. Camilla behaved as though he barely existed, and Sarah, when they met, usually gave him no more than a cool smile and a knowing look. Bewildered by the way she could lure him into bed one minute then switch off entirely the next, Anthony had come, slowly and suspiciously, to the conclusion that Sarah regarded him as someone she could pick up and drop at will, depending on how bored she was. Probably just when Leo wasn’t available. Anthony squirmed at the very idea of being regarded in such a light by any girl. Sarah was a prise bitch if ever he’d known one, but she seemed to possess something which amused and captivated Leo, and Anthony resented that.

  ‘Lastly,’ said the judge, to his own evident relief and that of the court, ‘we come to the claim for loss of profits on voyages that would have been made during the period of arrest. Despite Mr Cross’s submissions, I don’t find it necessary to look beyond the performance of the vessel prior to arrest …’

  Leo. Even though Anthony’s thoughts about him over the past months had swarmed with antagonism and petty jealousy, he always carried about with him the belief that Leo was his friend. Having said that, it was difficult to work out where he stood on Leo’s list of priorities. Time was, when Leo would have sooner been with
Anthony than anyone else in the world. At the sudden memory of that summer’s night when Leo had sought to make him his lover, he felt his heart turn over. It always did, at that recollection. That moment had passed, and the friendship remained, but it seemed to have been subsumed by layers of other things, people and events. Despite everything that Leo had said on the last occasion they had been together, in the pub just before the trustees’ meeting, Anthony couldn’t help feeling that Leo would rather spend time with Sarah than with him. It might just be sex, or it might be something more. Anthony had no way of telling. He only knew that they had lost the intimacy which he had once so much treasured. It came to Anthony, with sudden clarity, that this was the real source of his present unhappiness. He needed Leo, but Leo was not his. So many people seemed to have come between them over the past couple of years – Rachel, Sarah, and, most importantly, Oliver, Leo’s son. Anthony sighed, confused, miserable.

  ‘I have tried to deal with all the issues, and trust that none have been overlooked—’ Anthony glanced up, realising that Mr Justice Stubbs was speaking directly to him and to the barrister on the other side. ‘In any event, I will need Counsel’s assistance in putting together the appropriate order.’

  Counsel for the defendants rose and began to make dutiful noises, and Anthony tried to bring his concentration to bear on the events in hand. Whatever else he did, he must try to rationalise his feelings for Leo, decide what he wanted. But even when he had decided, where did he go from there?

  ‘Look, Sarah, it’s not as though it’s difficult. When the documents come down from Nichols, they’re already referenced and paginated. All you have to do is interleave them in the bundles in the right places. Frankly, this is a complete mess.’ Camilla flipped closed the bundle of papers before her, sat back in her seat and sighed. Sarah stood at the other side of Camilla’s desk, arms crossed, sullen and enraged. How dare Camilla try to boss her about like this? It had always, always been tacitly accepted – not just between them, but by everyone else around them – that Camilla was pretty much beneath Sarah in everything. During their time together at Oxford, even though she’d been in the year below Camilla, Sarah had felt superior to Camilla in every way, in terms of looks, clothes, money, the schools she’d been to, the people she knew … OK, Camilla had been very bright and slogged away at her studies, but that, frankly, hadn’t been much of an asset in most people’s eyes. And fine, Camilla was a tenant at 5 Caper Court, while she, Sarah, was still a mere pupil, but that didn’t give Camilla the right to push her around. At that moment, Sarah heartily wished that she’d never taken this pupillage, and, in particular, that Leo hadn’t tried to do her a good turn by taking her on while David was away. If she’d known that Camilla was going to be Leo’s junior in this stupid case, and that as Leo’s pupil she would have to be doing work for her, she’d never have let it happen.

  ‘Well, frankly, Camilla, if it’s so important to you, I suggest you sort the documents out yourself.’

  ‘Sarah, I have enough to do, drafting cross-examination plans for Leo, without having to worry about updating bundles. That’s a pupil’s job.’

  ‘Oh, you mean it’s beneath you? Of course, you’re far too important. Well, do you know what I think, Camilla? I think that you still can’t get over the fact that darling Anthony, instead of doing the faithful puppy-dog act while you were away last year, was more than happy to sleep with me, and lie about it to you. That’s why you sick all this dreary, irrelevant work on me, as your way of getting back at me.’

  Camilla flushed, and retorted angrily, ‘That’s not true! It has nothing to do with anything. I asked you to do a simple task that even—’

  Camilla broke off as Leo came into the room. ‘What on earth is going on in here? I can hear you from the stairs.’

  Unable to control her temper, Sarah burst out, ‘Camilla seems to have a personal grudge against me – we all know why. So she’s decided to take it out on me by giving me the most menial tasks possible and then criticising everything I do.’

  Camilla picked up the bundle and held it out to Sarah. ‘I can assure you that this has nothing to do with anything apart from the fact that I asked you to update this bundle, and you haven’t done it properly. I’d be grateful if you’d take it away and do it again.’

  Sarah wished immediately that she’d held her tongue. Grudgingly she took the papers from Camilla, trying to think of something to say to redeem her position. Before she could, Leo said, ‘I’d like a word with you in my room, Sarah, if you don’t mind.’

  Leo closed Camilla’s door and Sarah followed him across the landing to his room. Once there, Leo sat down behind his desk and regarded her coldly for a few seconds.

  ‘We are two weeks away from a trial. The documentation is vitally important, and I don’t intend to stand floundering around in front of Mr Justice Olby simply because you can’t do the things you’re asked to.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Leo. We all know what Camilla’s problem is. She can’t stand the fact that—’

  ‘When Camilla says there is nothing personal,’ cut in Leo, ‘I believe her. Above all, she is far too professional and competent a lawyer to allow anything of that kind to interfere with the smooth running of a case. That’s why I chose her as my junior. I think very highly of her. Which is more than I do of you, at this moment. That petulant little outburst—’

  ‘Oh, stow it,’ murmured Sarah, strolling across the room, past Leo, standing behind him and staring down through the window. She knew how to change an atmosphere in an instant. The trick with Leo was not to take him seriously, even when he wanted you to. She heard him swivel round in his seat, and she turned so that they were facing one another.

  She could tell from the faintly grim expression on his face that he wasn’t going to let it go. ‘Sarah, as long as there’s work to be done—’ She put a gentle hand against his mouth, and he pulled it away impatiently. ‘Look, I meant what I said—’ He stopped, watching as she hitched herself up, pushing papers aside, and sat on the windowsill, pulling her skirt up around her thighs, spreading them ever so slightly.

  ‘Leo, just think,’ she murmured, taking his hand and moving it between her legs, over the tops of her stockings and up towards her crotch, ‘if someone were to come in right now …’

  Despite his annoyance, he felt immediately aroused. Damn it, she was so provocative … She leant down and he let her kiss him for a long moment. He had a sudden, delirious vision of what it would be like to have her here and now, in his room. Probably not something that had happened between the walls of 5 Caper Court before. Though one never knew. He took his hand away, and his mouth from hers. ‘Go on – take that wretched bundle and get back to work.’ He turned round in his chair and slipped on his half-moon spectacles in a matter-of-fact way. Sarah slid from the windowsill, smoothing down her skirt, her face a little pink from the brief pleasure and excitement. She loved being able to turn him on so quickly.

  As she came round the other side of the desk, she said, ‘Let’s call that unfinished business. Why don’t I see you after work?’

  He glanced up at her. ‘Not tonight, I’m afraid. I’m having a drink with an old friend.’ There was a pause as he regarded her. ‘For Christ’s sake, behave from now on. And do what Camilla says, no matter how little you like it. That’s what you’re paid for.’

  Sarah smiled, picked up the bundle, and left the room.

  ‘Nice lunch?’ asked Henry. He could tell, just from the brightness of Felicity’s eyes and her little smile, that she’d been to lunch with the same man again. He’d seen the way she’d looked when she’d taken the call from him that morning, pleased and all caught up in herself.

  ‘Yes, as it happens.’

  ‘Anyone I know?’

  ‘Possibly. Possibly not.’ Her careless, happy smile cut Henry to the quick. How little she realised what it did to him, knowing she was seeing someone new. He’d even thought of reproaching her with a mention of Vince, but that wouldn’t be fair.<
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  Felicity hung up her coat and sat down at her desk. This was the fourth time she and Peter Weir had met for lunch, and today was the first time she’d agreed to see him one evening next week. So far, everything had been merely friendly, but Felicity knew that was probably about to change. Did she want it to? Yes, she couldn’t deny it. He was pretty practised, she suspected, the smooth way he came on, the little touches, the lingering eye contact, drawing things out until now. She should feel guilty, she knew. It wasn’t fair, with Vince stuck in Belmarsh, to fancy someone else. But she did. There was no escaping it. And anyway, she was only twenty-two. What was she meant to do – live like a bloody nun? It would be nice to be taken out for a change. Vince had never bought her a meal. He never had any money. If ever she and Vince went out, it was generally she who paid. The contrast didn’t do Vince any favours. Peter was a lot of things Vince wasn’t. Gainfully employed for a start, smartly dressed, charming as all get out, and he possessed, a conversational range that extended beyond motorbikes and the highlights from Men Behaving Badly.

  Henry’s phone rang. As he answered it, he glanced up and caught Felicity’s eye, then looked quickly away. Felicity had known for a long time that Henry had a soft spot for her. She couldn’t help knowing it. If it hadn’t been for that, she’d have been on at Henry to give her the low-down on Peter Weir. Henry had been a clerk for ages, so he probably knew a bit about him, whatever there was to be known. But the new man in her life wasn’t exactly a subject she could raise with Henry. He’d just go all morose on her, and then she’d feel even more guilty. Besides, she suspected that Henry wouldn’t entirely approve of her seeing someone else while Vince was banged up, and she didn’t want Henry thinking badly of her. Most of the time she couldn’t care less about other people’s opinions, but with Henry, for some reason, it was different.