by Caro Fraser
‘Fine. I have a few things I’ve got to do in chambers after court, but I’ll come to your room around half-five. And please,’ he added, ‘will you stop looking so damned miserable. You’ve nothing to be miserable about.’
Camilla didn’t even look at him, just picked her papers up and left.
In the clerks’ room, Henry slammed down the phone. ‘Why do you suppose listing officers are such officious bastards?’ he asked Felicity.
‘They go to a special camp at weekends and learn to behave that way. Here,’ Felicity handed him some papers, ‘that’s the fax from Holman’s.’
‘Ah,’ said Henry, ‘Mr Gibbon’s been waiting for that. I’ll take it up to him.’
Felicity looked at her watch and sighed. What a bugger of a morning. They hadn’t arranged to see one another today, but maybe Peter could make lunch at short notice. They could buy some sandwiches and sit in the sun somewhere. She’d ring and see.
‘I’m sorry,’ said the receptionist, when Felicity rang Peter’s chambers, ‘Mr Weir’s not here.’ Recognising Felicity as the clerk from 5 Caper Court, she added, ‘He was in earlier, but his little boy was taken into hospital, so he had to dash off.’
‘Oh, right,’ said Felicity faintly. She felt as though her stomach had just dropped through the floor. The bastard. Married. With a kid. She should have known. She put the phone down. She should have bleeding known.
At that moment Henry came back in. He glanced across at Felicity, who was sitting at her desk, very still. Felicity never sat still, always had to be doing ten things at once.
‘You all right?’ he asked.
‘Oh, fine,’ replied Felicity. ‘I’m just going to get some lunch.’ She picked up her handbag and went out.
Henry returned to the problem of a new clerk, which he’d been toying with all morning. The trouble with bringing in this new lot, Maurice Faber and other assorted egos, was that to handle the extra volume of work, they’d need someone who wasn’t wet behind the ears. What they wanted was someone middleweight, with maybe just a bit more experience than Felicity, but not someone who’d put her nose out of joint. Nor did Henry want someone who might regard himself as senior to Henry and start lording it about. A thought occurred to him. He hadn’t heard of barristers bringing their own clerk with them, but there was just a possibility … These new tenants would need a lot of looking after, and who better than someone who knew them already? Henry smiled to himself. No time like the present. If he called now, maybe they could settle something over lunch. It was always worth a try.
Camilla was working at her desk, window open to the warmth of the late afternoon, when Leo came by. Camilla glanced up. ‘I’ll just be a second.’
Just the sight of Leo, and the thought of what she had to tell him, made her heart start thudding horribly.
Simon, who was trying to sort out a shelf littered with briefs on the other side of the room, glanced over. ‘You two going for a drink?’ he asked. ‘I might join you in a bit. Where are you off to?’
Leo couldn’t exactly put him off. Naturally, Simon assumed they were merely going for a friendly drink after work. ‘Middle Temple, probably.’
‘Right. Nice evening for sitting about outside. I’ll see you there.’
‘So,’ said Leo, once he and Camilla were beyond the doors of 5 Caper Court, ‘are you still in a bad mood?’
‘It isn’t anything to do with my mood.’
Leo thrust his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘Right, then you’re angry with me. Obviously, it’s something I’ve said or done.’
She shook her head.
‘Would you rather go somewhere else, other than Middle Temple? I get the impression we could do without Simon.’
‘No. What I have to say won’t take very long.’
With a sense of foreboding, Leo decided to say nothing more until they got to Middle Temple, where he would buy them both a drink and try to sort this out.
They took their drinks to a secluded bench at one end of the garden.
‘Now, no more prevarication, no sulking,’ said Leo firmly. ‘Just tell me what is upsetting you.’
He watched her closely as she sipped her drink. Whatever it was, she was finding some difficulty in saying it. At last Camilla said, ‘I found out a few things. Please don’t think I’m making judgements about you, Leo, but I really don’t want to go on seeing you.’
He felt an icy sliver of fear in his insides, and wondered what he was about to learn. What she had learnt. ‘Who exactly,’ he asked, ‘has been speaking to you?’
‘Sarah.’
Leo nodded, his calm outward exterior belying the cold fury he felt. Not for the first time, that girl was making mischief on a grand scale, with consequences she neither foresaw nor cared about. He wondered how big a damage-limitation exercise he would have to perform. She might be a year older than Sarah, but Camilla was far younger in every way, and, despite the inhibitions which he had managed to lower over the past few weeks, still capable of being shocked and upset by the big, wide world.
‘What did Sarah say?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘It does. Look, Camilla, you mean a great deal to me. I didn’t know it until this weekend, but I can’t let things Sarah has said damage our relationship.’
‘It’s not what she said that’s done the damage. It’s who and what you are. Things I never knew about you, that you were never going to tell me. For instance—’ She turned to him and held his gaze, ‘—you never told me that you sleep with Sarah on a regular basis. That you have done for years.’
‘That’s not true. Sarah and I go back some time, but she is absolutely nothing to me. I haven’t slept with her in—’
‘In what? A month?’
Leo said nothing. So far as he could see, what he did a month ago shouldn’t bloody well matter, but in Camilla’s eyes it clearly did.
‘And what about Anthony?’
‘What about him? He has nothing to do with anything. All I care about is—’
Her voice was soft, and deadly in its condemnation. ‘I know he’s been your lover. I know all about it.’
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake …’ Leo passed a hand over his face. How on earth had that bitch Sarah found out about Anthony? Was there nothing she didn’t know, nothing she wasn’t prepared to use against people? Gideon Smallwood could take lessons from that young woman any day. He took his hand away and met Camilla’s gaze. He could see no point in being anything but frank. ‘So what? So I’m bisexual. What difference does that make? Since I met you, I haven’t looked at anyone else. I don’t want anyone else. I’m forty-six, for God’s sake. You can rake through my past and dig up any number of lovers, male and female. What are they to you?’
Her expression faltered slightly at his directness, but then she replied, ‘I suppose it’s because you’re such a clever lawyer that you’re evading the point, Leo. I don’t care if you and Anthony were ever lovers. As you say, it’s in the past and it’s none of my business. But if what Sarah says is true, then you did something to him from which he’s never going to recover. You’ve damaged him. You can see for yourself how he’s been these past few weeks. But you don’t care. Sarah told me how you manipulate people, make them think they matter to you, then just cast them off.’
Leo said nothing. What could he say? What kind of protest could he make against the incontrovertible truth?
Camilla went on, ‘I’m not in a position to make any judgements about what you’ve done in the past. But as you said, you’re forty-six. You’re not going to change now. Why should you treat me differently? I just can’t bear to be used by you. I don’t know any other way to protect myself, except by not seeing you any more.’
Leo swirled the ice in his whisky, then looked across the garden, squinting his eyes against the evening sun. ‘You’re right, of course. I didn’t want you to know the kind of person I am. Not to protect myself, but to protect you. But may I say something in mitigation?’
‘What?’ Camilla met his gaze, wishing he didn’t have this effect on her.
He leant towards her and put his finger lightly against her cheek. ‘I love you. I didn’t know it till this weekend. Certain things happened. Things I don’t want to go into. But from the moment I realised how much you mean to me, I’ve hardly been able to think about anything other than telling you that I love you. And here we are, in this mess. I imagine it doesn’t really count for much now.’
‘I wish it did.’
‘Do you?’
‘Of course,’ said Camilla. She looked at him with large, miserable eyes. ‘Don’t you think I’d like to be able to believe you? For weeks I’ve wanted just to be able to look at you, and tell you how much I love you, and hear you say it back.’
Without thinking about it, Leo kissed her. Kissing in the formal surroundings of Middle Temple rose garden, so far as he knew, was not exactly protocol, but at that moment he didn’t care which of his worthy fellow barristers happened to be looking on. The look in her eyes made it impossible for him not to, and he kissed her for several long, gentle seconds. ‘How can I make you believe me?’ he asked.
She was silent for a moment. ‘If you really mean it,’ said Camilla, ‘marry me.’
Leo looked at her in mild astonishment and perplexity.
‘You don’t want to, do you?’ said Camilla.
‘No, it’s not that. It’s … it’s …’ He had no idea what he was meant to say.
‘Of course you don’t. It’s not part of the plan. I said it partly to see how you’d react. The reason you won’t is because you actually don’t intend this to last. You can’t make anything last. I’m not saying that you don’t mean what you say. I didn’t believe it when Sarah said that you were never capable of being sincere. I think you were sincere last weekend. But it would all have to end in the long run, and I love you so much, I don’t think I can bear that’
For once, Leo felt entirely flummoxed. ‘Can’t we – can’t we just enjoy the here and now?’
‘I don’t think so, no.’
A voice called across the garden, ‘Hello, you two!’ and they looked up to see Simon approaching, holding a very full pint of beer.
Camilla drew away from Leo, and swallowed the remains of her drink.
‘Simon,’ said Leo, in tones of dismal enthusiasm, ‘come and join us.’
‘I could see you two were deep in conversation about that Lloyd’s case,’ said Simon, settling himself on the grass with his beer and stretching out his legs. ‘I’ll bet you never talk about anything else.’ He held up his drink. ‘Cheers.’
Camilla stood up. ‘I have to be going,’ she said.
Simon glanced at her in surprise. ‘Oh. Right. I was just about to buy you both another drink. Oh, well.’
Camilla murmured goodbye to Leo, then picked up her jacket and walked away across the lawn.
‘Is it me, d’you think?’ asked Simon, watching as she went.
‘I doubt it,’ said Leo.
‘I hope not. I’m beginning to get rather a thing about her, actually.’
Leo sighed and said, ‘Simon, why don’t you go and buy me that drink?’
Gideon, who had returned from Tokyo the day before, had been to check on the progress of his new house and was gratified to discover that he would be able to move in at the end of a fortnight. He told his mother the news that evening.
‘Oh, darling, how lovely,’ said Lady Henrietta. ‘Though I shall miss you. Will you come and visit me often? Good. And I shall visit you, of course. The evenings will be so dull without my boy, and it’s nice to think I’ll be able to drop by and see you when I like.’
Gideon merely raised his eyebrows at this. ‘One thing I’m going to need,’ he said, ‘is some good furniture.’
‘What about the things from your last place?’
Gideon wasn’t about to tell his mother that he’d sold them some time ago. ‘Well, of course, but this house is larger, you see, and I do need a few more things.’
Lady Henrietta waved a hand. ‘The furniture from the house at Chesterton is still in storage. Most of it, that is. Take what you like. It’s of no use to me any more.’
‘Nonsense. What if we win against Lloyd’s?’
Lady Henrietta gave a small, tremulous sigh. ‘Your hopes are more sanguine than mine, Gideon. No, you take what you need. I’ll ring the people tomorrow and give you an authorisation.’
‘That is so generous of you, Mummy.’ Gideon dropped a kiss on her head. ‘And now,’ he added, ‘I must go and make some phone calls.’
In his room, Gideon leafed through his personal mail, and then rang Leo.
Leo, who had been lying on the sofa in his Belgravia flat reflecting on his conversation with Camilla, was unpleasantly surprised to hear Gideon’s voice.
‘Got back yesterday, Leo. I had an idea you’d be waiting to hear from me.’
‘In a manner of speaking.’
‘Have you thought any more about my proposal?’
‘I have to see the photos.’
‘Of course, of course.’ Gideon glanced at his watch. ‘I can pop round later, if you’re not busy.’
‘Very well.’
‘See you in an hour.’
The walk from his mother’s house to Leo’s place took Gideon a mere ten minutes. He had the photos carefully tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket: he had given some thought to the question of whether Leo was the kind of person to involve the police, but he had come to the conclusion that this was unlikely. All in all, Leo really had far too much to lose. It was now just a matter of fixing a price.
He rang the bell, and Leo let him in. Gideon sauntered through to the drawing room, glancing round. ‘Do you know, those Lehrmans really weren’t right for this room. They look much better in the museum.’ He indicated the whisky decanter. ‘May I?’
‘Go ahead,’ said Leo.
‘Such a good malt,’ said Gideon, as he took a sip of his drink and replaced the stopper in the decanter. ‘Now—’ he reached into his inside pocket, ‘—here are the pictures. Just two.’ He put his head on one side. ‘Not very good of you, but certainly recognisable.’
He handed the pictures to Leo, who looked at them. They’d been taken from the right, he saw, and the inference was inescapable. Yes, he was recognisable, once identified, and yes, it looked every bit as bad as Gideon had suggested, despite the fleeting, relatively inconsequential nature of what had actually occurred.
‘Not bad quality, are they?’ said Gideon, glancing at them over Leo’s shoulder. ‘Considering they don’t use a flash or anything.’
Had Leo had a knife in his hand, he might gladly have slipped it between Gideon’s ribs. Gideon left his side and sauntered across the room with his drink to inspect a Whittaker print.
‘You’re really very trusting, coming here alone, Gideon,’ said Leo quietly.
Gideon turned, and Leo saw from his face that he was immediately alert for sounds in the silent flat. Fear flickered in his dark eyes.
‘No, Leo, that’s not your style.’ His voice, however, did not carry its customary note of assurance.
‘What? Having you beaten senseless for my own satisfaction? Oh, I don’t know …’ Leo tossed the photos down on a table and sighed. ‘No, don’t worry. The idea is attractive, but I don’t want to add to my troubles, no matter how much I’d like to make you suffer for this.’
Gideon swallowed his fear and relaxed. ‘So, I take it you’re agreeable to making me a modest loan?’
‘That depends how modest it is.’
Gideon cocked his head on one side. ‘I had in mind – say, a hundred thou.’
Leo had not expected this. ‘I am a man of means, Gideon, and you are obviously in dire need of funds, but that’s a very high price.’
‘It’s actually quite generous on my part, Leo. For that, I am prepared to throw in the negatives, and my assurance that this stops here.’
Leo gave a short laugh of disbelief. ‘You
expect me to believe that you won’t be coming back for more?’
Gideon shrugged. ‘Why should I? There’s the future of our friendship to consider. I may need a good lawyer one day. As for believing me – well, you have my word as a gentleman.’
For some odd reason, Leo was inclined to believe him. ‘I need some time.’
‘You’ve had two weeks.’
‘Apart from anything else, I have to move funds around. It’s a great deal of money.’
‘Isn’t it just?’ laughed Gideon, his eyes sparkling with a pleasure that was almost childlike. ‘Tell you what, just pop a cheque in the post to reach me by the weekend. That’ll do the trick. And I’ll see to it that the negatives are sent to you. Don’t worry,’ he said, seeing Leo’s face, ‘you have my word. Oh,’ he added, gesturing to the photos on the table, ‘you can keep those – for your album.’ He put his empty glass down. ‘Thanks for the drink. I’ll see myself out.’
When he had gone, Leo sank on to the sofa. Gideon had asked for far more than he had expected, but it was a small price to pay for peace of mind. Gideon would return the negatives. He had no idea why he was so certain. He just was. Whatever else Gideon might be, Leo suspected he prided himself on being a man of honour.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Gideon arranged to leave work early the next day, and went to inspect his mother’s furniture at the warehouse where it was stored. He found enough furniture sufficiently to his taste to furnish most of his house, and in addition arranged for the removal to Christie’s auction house of a very fine pair of George I walnut chests, an eighteenth-century long case clock, a pair of early Victorian parcel-gilt pier glasses, a Victorian oak reading table, and an exquisite feather banded bureau bookcase. His mother would never know. Over the years, and from beneath her very nose, Gideon had been responsible for the disappearance of eight pieces of Derby porcelain, two eighteenth-century Bilston enamel boxes, several items of Georgian silver, and an Alfred Glendining oil which he had found in the spare room.
Leaving the warehouse, Gideon made his way home to Pimlico, ringing the ministry en route to check with his secretary the progress of various matters. When he got home, he remembered that his mother was out at a bridge party. Gideon showered, changed, and watched the early evening news. He was deeply bored. He went through to his room and unlocked his desk, and took from a drawer a small dossier containing notes and a couple of photographs. He thumbed through these thoughtfully. If Leo came through with the money, as Gideon was certain he would, the little matter of the adulterous behaviour of Tony Gear, his lord and master, the country’s cultural figurehead, could be postponed. He had never put the squeeze on a Cabinet Minister before, and even Gideon felt some qualms at the prospect. On the whole, he would rather not. Still, useful to keep the dossier for a rainy day. He had the feeling, however, that Tony Gear was not likely to last long in office, and the future value of the dossier’s contents might sharply decline.