by Caro Fraser
‘What about permits? That all gets complicated, since I would only be going there as a visitor, not to work, and as I’m not a dependant—’
‘Stop being such a lawyer about everything!’ He kissed her forehead, then her nose, and looked into her eyes. ‘Why don’t you solve the problem by becoming a dependant, in that case? If we got married, there wouldn’t be any problem.’ Rachel said nothing, but her face was troubled. ‘I know we’ve talked about it before, and you’ve always said it was too soon after Leo, but you have to get over that eventually.’
Rachel gave a sad, small smile. What Charles didn’t realise was that, for her, there was no getting over Leo. She didn’t think she would ever be able to marry anyone else, since she would never love anyone as she had when she married Leo, when she was carrying his child. Not even Charles came close. She did love him, but not enough. She wasn’t even sure, at that moment, whether it was enough to go with him to the States.
‘Let me think about it, Charles. Let me think about all of it.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘Why is Leo always late for every chambers meeting?’ murmured Michael, to no one in particular, as the tenants of 5 Caper Court assembled around the long, polished oval table in the room of the head of chambers, Roderick Hayter.
‘I saw him talking to Felicity downstairs,’ said David. ‘Apparently, her boyfriend got sent down for manslaughter at the Old Bailey last week. Leo’s always the one she goes to in times of distress.’
‘Well, I hope she’s not going to cry on his shoulder for long,’ remarked Jeremy Vane, glancing at his watch. ‘I’m going to the theatre this evening.’ After Roderick, Jeremy was the most senior QC at 5 Caper Court, a blustering and self-important man, not a favourite with the junior tenants. He and Leo were often at loggerheads, largely because Jeremy disliked Leo’s flippant wit and mistrusted his charm, particularly in court.
‘What a very caring person you are, Jeremy,’ said William, lounging back in his chair and crossing his legs.
Camilla wasn’t listening to this exchange. She was covertly eyeing Anthony, who was leaning forward on the table on one elbow, doodling on the notebook in front of him. He looked awful – pale, with shadows under his eyes, and a grim, miserable expression. Very different from the boy he had been last year. She had imagined she had no feelings for him after the way he had behaved, but as she looked at him now, she felt anxious and sad. You couldn’t love someone for several months and then not care about their well-being. It was silly, thought Camilla, that they barely spoke to one another. Their love affair was well in the past now, so surely they should make some effort to get on in chambers. Or was it just being happily in love with Leo which made her feel so generous in spirit? She had no idea, but she hated to see anyone look so wretched.
At that moment, Leo came in and closed the door.
‘Sorry to keep you all,’ he said as he sat down. ‘Felicity has a few problems at the moment.’
‘Right, to business,’ said Roderick.
For a while they discussed the delays to the annexe, and then Roderick brought up the matter of new tenants.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘most of you will already have heard about the split in Maurice Faber’s chambers. There’s been a clash of personalities, and the upshot is that Faber, Ann Halliday, Roger Fry and Marcus Jacobs are all leaving. I’ve already spoken to a number of you about the possibility of them coming to 5 Caper Court, and the general consensus seems to be that while the juniors are all excellent people, Maurice Faber is perceived as something of a problem.’
‘The man’s a complete bastard, if you’ll forgive me for saying so,’ said Jeremy.
‘We all have to work with the occasional bastard,’ murmured William.
‘He is notoriously arrogant,’ observed David.
‘And very unpleasant to juniors,’ added Stephen.
‘The thing is,’ said Leo, ‘we have here the possibility of taking on some very good people. We’re in the process of expanding – Halliday and Fry bring in expertise in aviation, Jacobs in reinsurance, and whatever anyone may think about him personally, Faber himself is extremely good. Let’s not demonise the man. He can be difficult, but I don’t think he’s likely to upset the chambers’ dynamics. The point is we need the talent, and that, for me, far outweighs any personal shortcomings Maurice Faber may have.’
‘I wholeheartedly endorse that view,’ said Michael.
Camilla, Anthony, Stephen and all the rest of the tenants murmured and nodded in agreement.
‘I think Leo’s right,’ said Roderick. Jeremy said nothing, but glowered and sniffed. ‘And I think it will help us to take on weight at a time when we need it most. We have expanded from ten to eighteen in the last two years, and with the new annexe we can increase our numbers to keep pace with other chambers.’
‘In which case,’ said David, ‘we’ll have to take on another clerk. Henry’s been making noises for some time now.’
‘Fine,’ said Roderick. ‘We can leave it to Henry to find a suitable candidate.’
When the remaining items of chambers business had been dealt with, the meeting broke up a little after six-thirty. It was as everyone was getting up to leave that Anthony caught the glance which Leo gave Camilla. It was slight, smiling, filled with expressiveness and directed solely at her. Anthony knew that smile of old, recognised the intimacy in the brief flash of those blue eyes. There was something going on between them. The certainty hit him with shock and panic. How could Leo do it? Since the night he had taken him to his bed, Leo had shown Anthony not an ounce of kindness or compassion. He had casually seduced him, had taken all the affection and trust and anxious love which Anthony had built up, and, after three weeks of torment for Anthony, had simply blown it all away with a few accomplished and cruel words. And now he had moved on to his next piece of prey.
They filed out of Roderick’s room and Anthony watched carefully for any further signs of intimacy between Leo and Camilla. There were none. Each went off to their respective rooms. Anthony went slowly back to his own. He went to the window, staring down into Caper Court at the builders moving to and fro, seeing the summer light breaking through the clouds and suddenly illuminating the fresh young leaves of the trees in the courtyard. For the last ten weeks he had done nothing but try to drown his misery and confusion. Work helped, but the succession of girls whom he had taken to bed, hardly caring whether he liked them or not, had merely served to drag his spirits and his self-esteem lower and lower. He didn’t seem to care about anyone, except Leo, and most of the time he hated him. There had been times when he had remembered the jaded way in which Leo had offered himself – I’m always there if you want me; words which should have meant everything, but, in fact, in Leo’s terms, meant nothing beyond the most casual availability – and had been tempted to abandon every ounce of pride and simply go to him. Any contact was better than nothing. But he couldn’t bring himself to that.
So now it was Camilla’s turn. He watched the pattern of light through the leaves shifting on the flagstones, remembering himself and Camilla. He had thought he had loved her. Logic told him that he couldn’t have if he had been able to cheat on her so easily with Sarah, but Anthony knew that wasn’t true. Sarah had simply been there when Camilla wasn’t. It didn’t make the fact that he had loved Camilla any less true, just called into question the weakness of his own morals. Well, he was taking lessons from Leo there … He wondered what Leo would do to Camilla, how long it would be before she became another victim. The world must be littered with them, people whom Leo had picked up and discarded. He didn’t really want to see Camilla added to the heap, but it was nothing to do with him. He couldn’t interfere.
There was a knock at his door and Simon looked in. ‘Are you coming?’
‘Coming where?’
‘The George. William’s pre-nuptial booze-up, remember?’ William had let it be known in chambers the previous week that he and his girlfriend of long-standing were getting marrie
d in June, and had impulsively offered to buy everyone a drink after the chambers meeting by way of celebration.
‘I don’t know.’ He didn’t really feel in the mood for socialising.
‘Oh, come on. Most people are going.’
It occurred to Anthony that Leo might be there. Maybe they would talk, and sort things out. Leo would be kind, and things would be as they had been before, and he wouldn’t have to go around nursing this wretched, painful hurt any more. Maybe he had been entirely mistaken about the way Leo had looked when he smiled at Camilla. Maybe there was nothing going on there at all. Maybe …
So he went. Leo and Camilla were notably absent. In an attempt to cover up his dejection, Anthony proceeded to drink a good deal at William’s expense, which enabled him, in a superficial and rather drunken fashion, to join in the general hilarity and banter.
Sarah was there, but Anthony, as usual, paid her little attention. Sarah, on the other hand, kept a careful eye on Anthony. She had noticed the change in his mood and manner over the past couple of months – he had always been pretty easy to read, not exactly a complex character, for all his brains – and had heard from mutual friends about his womanising. She had observed, too, with her customary attention to detail, that the usual camaraderie no longer existed between Leo and Anthony. The two went through occasional patches of animosity, she knew that well enough, but never one characterised by such a change of behaviour on Anthony’s part. She scented intrigue of some kind, and when Sarah scented intrigue, she liked to get to the bottom of it.
By nine o’clock, most people were heading for home. Anthony, Sarah and a few others hung on for another half-hour, but by the time William and David were leaving, only Sarah and Anthony remained. Anthony had stopped drinking some time earlier, and was now merely maudlin and morose. He decided to have one last drink to cheer himself up. He gave Sarah, who was spinning out a glass of wine, a hostile glance. Why was she still here? She disliked him as much as he disliked her, so why hadn’t she left with the others? Sarah pretended to be lost in thought, and Anthony gave her another look. The worst thing about her was, she was so bloody attractive. That baby-blonde hair and innocent smile, like butter wouldn’t melt between her legs … She had caused more problems for him than he cared to think about.
‘So, Anthony,’ said Sarah suddenly, ‘are you going to buy me one last drink?’
He shrugged, nonplussed. ‘If you like. What’s that – dry white?’
Sarah nodded, and a few minutes later Anthony returned with the drinks. The pub, whose clientele normally consisted of City office workers and lawyers, was quiet now, with only a handful of people at the bar. Sarah and Anthony sat at their table in relative seclusion.
Partly because he could think of nothing he cared to talk about to Sarah, and partly because he felt in a vicious mood, Anthony found himself saying, ‘Not seeing Leo tonight?’
Sarah was momentarily taken aback. Anthony couldn’t possibly know that she had been sleeping with Leo on a fairly regular basis until recently – could he? Then she realised what he was getting at. ‘Dear me, Anthony, you still haven’t forgiven me for being there when you came round to talk to Leo, have you? Sorry to have spoilt whatever cosy little party you had planned.’
Good, thought Anthony. He was in a quarrelsome and spiteful mood, so she could have some of it in return for her drink. ‘Frankly, it didn’t surprise me in the least to find you there. If it moves, screw it – that’s Leo’s motto. Not exactly discriminating, is he?’
Sarah’s eyes narrowed. ‘You may have been fairly good at playing the rampant hetero, Anthony – but only up to a point. I think you want Leo all to yourself, don’t you?’
Anthony said nothing for a moment. ‘I’ve been there, Sarah, I’ve done that, and it’s made me realise that Leo doesn’t care about anyone. Not you, and not me.’
Sarah could not resist a faint smile; Anthony had just unwittingly laid his whole soul bare. So he and Leo had got it together, had they? Clearly, it hadn’t led to whatever Anthony had imagined it would. Anthony caught her smile, and misinterpreted it.
‘You think you and he have something special, don’t you?’ he asked mockingly. ‘Well, just about every other poor sod he comes across thinks that. They’re all wrong. For your information, Camilla appears to be next on the list.’
Sarah gave a little laugh of disbelief. ‘I hardly think so. She’s not exactly Leo’s type – not particularly sophisticated or worldly, our Miss Lawrence.’
‘She doesn’t have to be. She merely has to be available. I’ve seen the way they look at one another. Why d’you think neither of them was here this evening?’
An agonising little current of jealousy jolted Sarah. It had been obvious to her for some time that Camilla was completely drippy over Leo, but he couldn’t seriously be bothered with someone like that, could he? All right, she had improved a lot since Oxford, she really was very pretty, if you liked that kind of dewy-eyed, natural niceness – but talk about boring. Brainy, yes, intellectual and so on, but how could Leo possibly find her interesting? Mind you, knowing Leo, that consideration was probably way down the list. If it was true, though – if that was why he’d given her the brush-off recently … Her mind revolted at the dire possibility that he had dropped her for Camilla – Camilla Lawrence, whom she’d regarded as her inferior in just about every way, the archetypal all-work, no-play, dull girl. And just when Sarah had thought she was making headway, that she was actually getting somewhere with making Leo her exclusive property … She was suddenly aware that Anthony was getting to his feet.
‘I wish I could say I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. But it wouldn’t be true. See you.’
Sarah sat over the remains of her white wine. What Anthony had said might be entirely without foundation. She had, as yet, no way of knowing. No point in letting it make her miserable. She leant her head on her hand. She couldn’t fool herself. Without meaning to, and for all her careful calculation and tactics, she now knew that her feelings for Leo were way beyond her own control. Her reaction to what Anthony had said had shown her that. For several minutes she was lost in her own unhappy thoughts. Then she sat up, as though mentally and physically bracing herself. Camilla, if she existed as an obstacle, was hardly daunting stuff. As Sarah recalled, it had been astonishingly easy to floor her with news of Anthony’s infidelity. That was Camilla’s weak spot. She was a moral innocent, the kind that never dealt well with harsh reality. A few facts would wipe her out. Anthony had already unwittingly supplied Sarah with some useful ammunition this evening. Camilla might have an almighty crush on dear Leo, but she couldn’t have the first clue about his real character. And she wouldn’t like it when she found out.
‘Eight years, Peter. Just think about it. Eight years.’ Felicity lay back in bed and sighed. ‘By the time he comes out, he’ll be thirty-six.’
Peter said nothing. He was a little tired of all this, and had said as much as he wanted to say on the subject of Vince’s incarceration. All of it sympathetic, of course, but he privately thought that the legendary Vince sounded like someone who needed locking up. He got out of bed and went to his jacket, hanging on the back of a chair, and took a little packet of white powder from it. Felicity watched as Peter carved the coke into neat little lines on the glass top of the bedside table, and then sniffed them up.
‘Sure you don’t want some?’ he asked.
She shook her head, wishing he wouldn’t do this in her flat, so casually and always without asking. He’d never asked if she minded. She and Vince had done a bit of dope in their time, but over the last couple of years she hadn’t touched drugs. It somehow didn’t seem the thing to be doing in her job. Anyway, she found it vaguely boring. Peter thought it gave him some kind of edge, but often it just meant he wouldn’t shut up, or wanted to go out and do stuff when she would rather stay in, or just go to bed. She didn’t like to admit it, but the fact that he took so much coke made him – well, it lessened him in some odd way. Funny to think
she’d thought he could do no wrong when she’d first met him. She stretched out a hand and drew it down his back. Still, he was undeniably gorgeous, and even if he seemed to take her a bit for granted these days, that always happened with relationships. It was natural.
He lay next to her, propping himself up on one elbow.
‘I mean,’ went on Felicity, ‘what’s he going to do at the end of it all? He’s got nothing.’
Peter sighed. ‘I thought you said he was going to appeal?’
‘Yeah. Mr Davies in chambers has been really helpful. It was him who found Vince a good brief in the first place. And I don’t mind helping Vince out with the money. I just don’t think it’s going to do much good. Mr Davies doesn’t think so either.’
‘Well, he’s off your conscience, anyway. There is that.’
‘No, he’s not! That’s just it – I feel so guilty. Being with you.’ She turned to look into his eyes. ‘Being so happy.’
‘What I mean is, this way it dies a natural death. You don’t have to drop any big bombshells.’
‘What? Go on visiting him under false pretences for the next eight years? What about you and me in all that time?’
Peter shrugged and looked away. ‘Who knows?’
Felicity hated that, the way his voice and manner went all evasive whenever she mentioned the future. She wished she felt more certain of him, and saw him more often. He never saw her at the weekends, because he played so much sport, and liked to keep Saturday evenings for his friends. He said that was the way he’d always played his social life – girlfriends during the week, mates at weekends – and he wasn’t about to change it. It was a situation which really irked Felicity, but since Peter could be quite unpleasant in an argument, she didn’t nag him about it. Time would change things.
June drifted on, and Camilla saw as much of Leo as she could. She was oblivious to any idea that being so available might make Leo want her less. She didn’t care. She had no time for manoeuvring or subtlety. She simply wanted to be with him.