A Hallowed Place

by Caro Fraser

  The car, and Leo’s preoccupied air as they drove off through the deserted, darkening streets of Shoreditch, gave Melissa further cause for speculation. She fished around through a selection of opening remarks, then said brightly, ‘You know, Leo, I can’t quite place you in all of this. Chay did tell me at some point who all the trustees were and what they did, but I’m so busy these days that I forget everything. I know your name, but that’s all.’

  ‘I’m a barrister,’ replied Leo. ‘I’m in chambers with Chay’s son, Anthony. Chay knew I liked modern art, and I think he thought having a lawyer on his team might help.’ What if it was Joshua’s night off? Already his mind and heart were living the possibility of disappointment. Or what if he were there, working, and simply ignored Leo? He had been over this countless times. There was no point. Either he should decide to go now, as soon as he’d dropped this woman off, or he should forget about the whole thing for good.

  Melissa made a little face as she looked out at the passing streets. This wasn’t exactly going to be easy, not if he was going to look so blank and speak so laconically. She turned back to him with a smile. ‘A barrister! How very glamorous.’

  He would go. That was it, the decision made. He should stop thinking about Joshua and concentrate on being polite to this woman. He caught her last remark and smiled, glancing at her. Better, thought Melissa, meeting his eyes briefly and thinking how very blue they were. Blue as a child’s.

  ‘Hardly,’ replied Leo. ‘You’re the one with the glamorous job.’

  She gave a modest laugh. ‘Do you watch my programme?’

  Leo nodded. ‘Yes. It’s good. I like it very much.’

  ‘Sweet of you.’

  ‘Though I sometimes think’, went on Leo, ‘that you concentrate very heavily on confrontational work.’ He smiled reflectively. ‘What a kind adjective. I really mean work that seems gratuitously offensive, purely there for its shock value.’

  ‘I like what’s new. I detest complacency. Anything that shakes up the art world possesses merit for me. Serrano, the Chapman brothers … Above all, I like to be excited.’ She paused, glanced at him and dropped her voice slightly. ‘Don’t you like to be excited, Leo?’

  Leo almost laughed. ‘Oh, yes,’ he replied. ‘By art. By life.’ He turned to look at her again, unsurprised by the sensuality of the gaze which met his. This could, he thought, turn out to be a tiresome thirty-minute journey. As they drove, he managed to keep the conversation focused on the subject of Melissa’s programme, deftly deflecting the occasional provocative remark, and wondered how long it would take her to get to the question of his marital status.

  ‘I live just past those gardens at the end, the right-hand turning,’ said Melissa. She sighed as though tired. ‘My little haven of tranquillity at the end of the day. Silence if I want it. Music if I don’t. Bliss. Living alone is one of the great pleasures in life, don’t you think? Or do you go home to a life of happy domestic chaos?’

  Leo took the right-hand turning. ‘Which number?’ he asked.

  ‘Nine.’

  The Aston Martin drew to a gentle halt outside Melissa’s house. Leo left the engine running. He turned to her, to answer the question left hanging in the air. ‘No. No domestic chaos, happy or otherwise. I live alone. My wife and I are in the process of divorcing.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Melissa, hardly even bothering to sound sincere.

  Leo thought of Oliver. Tomorrow was Thursday. He still hadn’t rung Rachel to make a firm arrangement about going to Bath to see him on Sunday. He pondered this briefly and Melissa took the silence which fell between them as potentially significant.

  ‘It’s still only nine-thirty,’ she said, after a moment. ‘I haven’t eaten yet. Would you like to come in for a drink? We could carry on our conversation about art and I could make us both some supper. Scrambled eggs and smoked salmon, if I’ve got some salmon in the freezer—’

  ‘I’m sorry. That’s very kind, but I have an appointment. Someone I have to see.’

  Melissa felt an unexpectedly strong pang of disappointment and jealousy. Some other woman, of course. Men like Leo always had a string of them. It suddenly seemed vitally important that he should not slip the net so easily.

  She smiled and gave a little shrug. ‘Just a drink, then. I’m sure you have ten minutes. It’s not often I meet a stimulating man who doesn’t make me feel threatened.’

  Leo gave a little laugh of astonishment. ‘Well, I’m glad of that. But really, I must say no. Maybe some other time.’ He cursed inwardly - why had he said that? Because it was one of those things that simply slipped out.

  She sighed lightly and opened the door, preparing to get out. ‘Oh, well. As you say, some other time. Maybe after the next trustees meeting?’

  The tone of enquiry was so direct that Leo was obliged to respond. ‘That depends. We’ll have to see.’ He was damned if he was going to have his hand forced in this way. ‘Goodnight.’

  She startled him by leaning over and kissing him briefly and softly on his cheek, then she slipped out of the car and was gone. Her scent hung in the air and he sat for a moment trying to recall what it was. L’Air du Temps, that was it - one he had always rather disliked. Putting the car into gear, Leo drove off into the night in the direction of Knightsbridge.

  As she mounted the steps to her flat and put the key in the lock, Melissa’s mind was already working overtime on the matter of Leo Davies and the necessity of seducing him. The next trustees meeting might be weeks away and that was too long to wait. When Melissa got hungry, her appetites needed to be satisfied quickly. She smiled as she took off her coat and went to pour herself a drink. She liked projects. She liked plans. She always brought them to fruition. Always.

  Leo parked round the corner from the Galleria and sat in the car for a moment or two. He felt uncharacteristically nervous. Rather than think about it any longer, he got out, locked the car and went into the Galleria. It was at its busiest and at first he couldn’t see Joshua. Just as he was about to ask a passing waitress if it was his night off, Joshua came through the door leading from the kitchens. He saw Leo straight away, held his gaze for a moment, then went to the table he was serving. Leo stood at the bar, hesitant. He had been able to read nothing in Joshua’s expression. Perhaps he was just going to ignore him. The girl behind the bar said something to him and Leo glanced at her. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Would you like a drink?’ she asked again. She had a strong Australian accent.

  ‘Ah … Yes. Yes. I’ll have a Scotch, please. No ice.’

  Joshua set the plates down in front of the customers, conscious of the sudden acceleration of his heartbeat. He had no idea whether he was glad to see Leo or not. Had he hoped he would come in tonight? Part of him had, another part had hoped he would just stay away. But he had guessed Leo would come. There he was now, leaning against the bar, cool as anything, having a drink. Waiting.

  Joshua finished dealing with the customers and went over to Leo, his tray tucked under his arm. They looked at one another for a few significant seconds, then Leo, sipping his Scotch, asked, ‘Do you mind my coming here?’

  ‘No,’ said Joshua.

  Something tight within Leo loosened with relief. ‘I had to know why you left the way you did. Last night …’

  Joshua swallowed and looked away, turning his head, gazing distractedly at the chattering customers. The way the light caught the skin of his throat, throwing the sinews into soft relief, made Leo’s heart turn over.

  ‘I can’t talk about it here.’

  ‘After work?’

  Joshua didn’t look at Leo. His expression was uncertain, almost unhappy. At last he nodded and said, ‘All right.’

  Leo finished what was left of his drink and left. Joshua stood by the bar for an uncertain moment. Maybe he should just try to get off early, not be there when Leo came back. But something told him that there would be no point in that, and that, if not tonight, Leo would be back another time.

 
For over an hour, Leo simply walked the streets. He hadn’t eaten since lunch time, but seeing Joshua again had taken away any appetite he might have had. He couldn’t face the idea of sitting in a pub or a wine bar, of being with people. He was filled with restlessness and a sense of apprehension. Never in his life could he recall being so deeply, so painfully affected by another individual. He didn’t even know the boy, for God’s sake. They had had two conversations, Joshua had come back to his flat and they had kissed. That was the sum of it. At forty-five, Leo had long assumed himself to be above and beyond the kind of infatuation which seemed now to possess him, suffocating him. He walked and walked, thinking, counting the minutes until he could look upon Joshua again.

  ‘Take the keys,’ said Leo. They were sitting in the car outside Leo’s flat. ‘I’ve got a spare set. I want to put the car away. You go on up. It’s number two, on the first floor. Help yourself to a beer. They’re in the fridge.’

  Joshua took the keys and unlocked the front door to the block of flats. He paused in the hush of the carpeted hallway and caught sight of his reflection in an oval gilt mirror. Christ, if one of the other residents came out now, they’d think he’d come to burgle the place. He went upstairs to Leo’s flat and let himself in, fumbling for a light switch. He felt a little rush of pleasure at seeing the interior of the flat again. He really liked this place. In the fridge Joshua found a six-pack of Budweiser. There hadn’t been any beers there the other night. Leo wasn’t a beer drinker, Joshua could tell. So had he got this lot in on the assumption that he’d get Joshua back here again? Joshua decided he didn’t care. He took one of the beers and went through to the drawing room. He stood in the darkness by one of the long windows overlooking the street and gazed down, watching Leo walk up to the flat. He heard the front door open and close, then Leo’s feet on the stairs. Leo always moved quickly, nimbly; that was something Joshua had noticed already.

  Leo let himself in and came up the hallway, then stopped at the doorway of the drawing room. He saw Joshua standing by the window, silhouetted in the glow from the street light outside.

  ‘All alone in the dark,’ said Leo.

  ‘I was looking at the street,’ said Joshua. ‘It’s so quiet. Where I live, it never stops, twenty-four hours a day. Restaurants, bars, music, people up and down the stairs all night. And the traffic. Then just when it goes a bit quiet, you get the bin lorries coming round about two in the morning. But here - it’s so still. Civilised.’

  Leo came across the room. He didn’t switch on the light. ‘You found a beer, I see.’

  Joshua turned to look at him. Leo’s face and hair were etched silver by the street light. ‘You got them in just for me, didn’t you?’

  ‘Perhaps I happen to like beer,’ replied Leo.

  ‘Perhaps you do.’ Joshua took a swig from the can. ‘Then again, perhaps you hoped I’d come back here.’

  ‘You’re right. I did,’ said Leo. ‘I hoped it very much. But I wasn’t sure, after the way you left last night.’

  Joshua turned to look out at the street again. ‘If you want to know why I left, I’ll tell you.’ He hesitated for several seconds, as though trying to find words, then went on, ‘You know a bit about me. I can tell you do. You know I make a bit on the side going with blokes. I do it for the money, that’s all.’ Joshua was speaking rapidly. With his free hand he reached out and began to fiddle with a silken curtain tassel. ‘The thing is, the more you do it, the easier it gets. That’s not to say I ever liked it. I just tried not to think about it, really. But last night, I liked it when you touched me.’ He turned to look candidly at Leo. ‘Whatever happened was because I wanted it to.’

  ‘And that worries you?’

  ‘Yes. Well, no, not really … Look, to be honest, when you picked me up last night, I thought we would just come here, do the business, and that would be it. But then things got confusing …’ He raked his fingers through his hair. ‘I can’t really explain it …’

  Leo thought for a long moment before he spoke. ‘Joshua, do you feel safe? Here, with me?’

  ‘Safe?’ Joshua echoed the question as he tested his feelings. Yes, he did feel safe. He felt reassured by Leo, by this place, by all the things around him. He suddenly thought that he would rather be here, in this flat, than anywhere else he could think of. He nodded. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Then don’t worry. Just stay and everything will be all right. I promise.’

  Joshua said nothing. He liked the idea, the knowledge, that Leo was the kind of man who kept his promises.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sarah was waiting for Leo in the clerks’ room when he hurried in at a quarter to ten the following morning. ‘You’re cutting it fine,’ she remarked.

  ‘Thank you. I am aware of it. Hold these.’ He thrust some papers at her and went to have a hurried conversation with Henry before heading out of chambers at a brisk walk, Sarah in his wake.

  Henry glanced after them and remarked to Felicity, ‘She’s very free in the way she talks to him, for a pupil.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve noticed that.’ Felicity looked up from the computer screen and glanced at her untasted cup of coffee. She felt hellish this morning. Even the smell of coffee nauseated her.

  ‘Maybe they’re having a little fling,’ said Henry thoughtfully.

  Felicity leant back in her chair. ‘Henry,’ she sighed, ‘I don’t think girls are quite Mr Davies’ type.’

  Henry’s jaw slackened. He turned to look at Felicity with such transparent astonishment that Felicity gave a little snort of laughter. There was something so dopey and sweet about Henry, sometimes.

  ‘You never mean that!’

  ‘What? That he’s gay? Course I do. Hadn’t you noticed?’

  Henry said nothing. He stood thinking for a few seconds, then went back to sorting through the briefs in front of him. It was wrong in these days of tolerance and liberalism to feel disappointed, but somehow, after all the years he’d known Mr Davies, he couldn’t help it.

  Sarah tried to match Leo’s pace as they crossed Fleet Street to the Law Courts. ‘It must have been a particularly good night, to make you late for court,’ she remarked. ‘As I recall, you used to be quite scrupulous about not letting your private life interfere with work.’

  ‘I got held up in the traffic,’ replied Leo shortly. As they passed through security, he suddenly stopped and put his hand to the breast pocket of his jacket. ‘Blast and bugger it!’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ said Sarah.

  ‘I’ve left my reading glasses in chambers. Look, give me these.’ He took the papers Sarah was carrying. ‘And run back to chambers for me. If they’re not on my desk, they’ll be in the top right-hand drawer. I’ll see you in court.’

  ‘Which one? I don’t know which court we’re in.’

  ‘Look on the lists!’ called Leo over his shoulder, as he trotted up the stairs to the robing room.

  The morning had not started auspiciously, thought Leo, as he adjusted his bands and slipped on his wig. Because of Joshua he had overslept, and the face that stared back at him from the robing room mirror was drawn and tired. He felt none of the euphoria and pleasure that usually came with the start of a love affair. Everything was too precarious. Looking down at Joshua sleeping in his bed, one arm thrown back, skin smooth and supple, his hair burnished and tangled, he had been acutely aware of the discrepancy in their ages. Three or four years ago he had thought of himself as still a relatively young man, but these days he felt distinctly middle-aged. He seemed to have acquired from nowhere the paraphernalia of reading glasses, stiff limbs, and an ex-wife and child. It was quite astonishing. Still, there was always the compensation of knowing that one’s capacity for love remained, fresh and ageless. One could fall in love just as easily at forty-five as at twenty-five, and that, he now knew, his heart soaring at the recollection of Joshua, was what he had most certainly done. Leo picked up his papers and headed for the court room, hoping that Sarah would get a move on.

  The mo
rning continued badly. Sarah hadn’t been able to find his glasses and Leo could only assume he must have left them at home. It meant he had to peer at the papers, and this made him feel awkward and interrupted the flow of his case. Added to which, they were before Mr Justice Dent, an irascible and pompous man whom Leo had long disliked, and who seemed determined that morning to pick holes in Leo’s case.

  ‘Mr Davies, you are not suggesting, are you, that an average adjustment is binding upon the cargo owners? I’m sure I need hardly remind you of the dictum of Lord Diplock in Castle Insurance v Hong Kong Shipping. The cargo owners are perfectly free to dispute the quantum of any contribution or claim attributed to their consignment by the average statement.’

  ‘With respect, my Lord, I would submit that that is the position only in cases where there is no agreement to the contrary. In this case, it is my clients’ contention that there was an agreement.’

  ‘Well, Mr Davies, I can see no evidence of such agreement …’ Mr Justice Dent began to sift through the papers as though to make his point, still talking. Endeavouring to listen patiently, Leo recalled with a sudden, irrelevant jolt that Joshua still had the spare set of keys to the flat. His mind ran quickly over the implications. In one sense it was good. It meant that Joshua might feel free to come and go, that he might still be there this evening. On the other hand, what did he know of the boy? He worked as a waiter, was a part-time prostitute and, for all Leo knew, he could get home this evening and find the place cleaned out. He doubted it, but it brought home to him the realisation that this affair with Joshua was fraught with uncertainties. ‘… And I’m afraid I must agree with Mr Glyn-Jones that one would normally expect such an agreement to be spelt out, as in the case of Tharsis Sulphur & Copper Company v Loftus, Mr Davies.’

  With an effort, Leo dragged his attention back to what Dent was saying. Tharsis Sulphur & Copper Company? He wished this old bastard didn’t have quite so much case law at his fingertips. One sometimes had the impression that he was expressly determined to make the case for the other side.