by Caro Fraser
He glanced up as she came in, mildly startled. ‘I didn’t hear your car.’
Rachel went over to Oliver, who put up small, buttery hands as she bent to kiss him. He grabbed a hank of her hair. ‘Ow! Oliver!’ She laughed and gently disengaged his hands from her hair. She turned to Leo. ‘How has it been?’
‘Terrific. Having him for the night was a real bonus. We’ve had a great time - haven’t we, Oliver?’
By way of reply Oliver carefully dropped his toast on to the floor, leaning over the table of his high chair to watch it fall.
‘You look worn out,’ said Leo, glancing at Rachel. ‘There’s some coffee on. Would you like a cup?’
She nodded and took off her coat, then sat down at the kitchen table. She saw that Leo was frying bacon and eggs, and suddenly felt ravenously hungry. ‘I’d love some breakfast, too, if it isn’t too much trouble.’
‘Okay.’ Leo poured her some coffee and put some toast on.
He brought two plates over and sat down, and they ate. Rachel talked for a little while about her night at the hospital, then fell silent. She sipped her coffee and looked thoughtfully at Leo.
‘I still can’t get used to that beard.’
‘It’s a little itchy. I may shave it off. I think Oliver likes it, though.’ Leo stretched out a hand to Oliver, who grabbed it and kicked manfully in his high chair. Leo lifted the boy out and sat him on his lap.
Rachel gazed at the two of them, then asked quietly, ‘What’s been going on?’
‘Mmm?’
‘The beard, the way you look, the way you - Oh, I don’t know. Something’s happened. I could tell when you came to pick him up, all that stuff about having a few days off.’ Leo said nothing, clapping Oliver’s pudgy hands together between his own, his blue eyes distant and thoughtful. ‘Has it anything to do with that boy who answered the phone at your flat? I’ve forgotten his name.’
Joshua. The word formed itself in Leo’s mind, but he couldn’t say it. He replied with an effort, ‘A little. He left. I didn’t want him to. But he left.’ Rachel was conscious of the pain it still gave her to know he could love other men, but not her. ‘And I’ve just become rather - rather disenchanted with life in general.’ He gave a bleak smile. ‘I came down here to get away from myself.’
Rachel cupped her chin in her hands. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘To get away from me. Leo Davies, the barrister who lives in Belgravia, who has such a wonderfully successful legal practice and a whole host of distinguished clients and friends, and who seduces young men on the quiet, and who completely managed to screw up his application for access to his own son as a result.’ He shook his head. ‘It was like some bizarre comedy sketch. There I was, doing my best to impress these two nerds from social services, or wherever they breed these people, trying to convince them that I lead a blameless life and that Oliver couldn’t wish for a better place to stay on his weekends off, when my ex-lover came to the door. To collect his belongings.’ Oliver wriggled down from Leo’s knee and began to busy himself with his toys on the kitchen floor. Rachel noticed the whiteness of Leo’s knuckles as he clasped his hands together. ‘It was my last chance, you see. Or I thought it was. I begged him to stay. I utterly abased myself. And these welfare people watched it all.’ He smiled a thin smile. ‘Which I should think just about completely buggers up my chances, wouldn’t you say?’ Leo stood up. ‘More coffee?’
Rachel had no idea what to say. She watched as Leo poured coffee into her cup, then was suddenly aware of her mind taking a sharp dip, of blackness coating her vision for a few seconds. She wondered if she was about to faint. ‘Leo,’ she said, ‘I think I need to lie down.’ She closed her eyes.
‘Are you all right?’
She opened her eyes and shook her head to clear it. ‘Just utterly exhausted. I haven’t slept all night.’
‘Go up and have a nap. Oliver and I have things to do. We’ll go and get the papers, then after lunch I’ll take him for a walk. There are some horses down the road that he likes to feed.’
‘All right. Thanks.’ Rachel rose and went upstairs. She paused on the landing. Through the open door she could see Leo’s enormous bed, the one that she had always refused to sleep in, rumpled and unmade, Oliver’s toy elephant lying on the covers. She went in, kicked off her shoes, got into bed and pulled up the covers. Breathing in the smell of Leo, she fell asleep in minutes.
The sound of Oliver crying woke Rachel some hours later. She blinked, uncertain where she was at first. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was almost four o’clock. The light outside was fading. She’d been asleep for nearly six hours. She got out of bed and went downstairs.
Oliver was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, screaming, while Leo knelt in front of him and tugged at his Wellingtons.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Rachel. She leant past Oliver to her bag on the end of the banisters and fished in it for a hairbrush.
‘I can’t persuade him that he should take off his muddy Wellingtons when he comes into the house,’ said Leo in exasperation. ‘There.’ He got the second boot off, and stood up with them in his hand. Oliver lay back on the stairs and roared. ‘Cry away, my man. These are going to the back door.’
‘What’s the problem with a little mud?’ asked Rachel, shrugging.
‘A little mud? They’re covered in cow shit.’ He glanced up at Rachel as he crossed the hall and thought, fleetingly, how beautiful she always managed to look, even when she’d just woken up.
Rachel put down the hairbrush and picked up Oliver, then padded barefoot into the drawing room with him. She sat down on a sofa, cuddling him. The room was cosy, a large fire burning in the grate, the Sunday papers scattered in a heap on the floor near Oliver’s toys.
Leo came into the room and switched on a couple of lamps, drawing the curtains against the gathering dusk. He began to tidy up the papers. ‘What about a drink?’ he asked Rachel.
‘Thanks. I think I’ll have a small brandy. It’s that kind of day. And I feel like something revivifying.’ She yawned and kissed the top of Oliver’s head. He snuffled away the last of his tears and began to suck his thumb.
‘Aren’t you having one?’ she asked, as Leo handed her a glass.
He shook his head and sat down in an armchair opposite. ‘I’ve rather been punishing the stuff in the last few weeks. Thought it was about time I gave it a rest.’
Silence fell. A log in the grate slipped, loosing a little shower of crackling sparks.
Rachel felt the warmth of the brandy lifting her spirits. A memory of the hospital came to her and she pushed it aside. She didn’t want to think of her mother now. That would come later. ‘This is good,’ she remarked after a while.
‘The brandy? Yes, it’s rather rare stuff. Some client—’
‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘I meant being here. Just the three of us. You and me and Oliver.’ A sudden sense of the importance of this moment touched Rachel, a realisation that this was the last chance she would ever have to try and salvage what was left of their relationship. Mad and hopeless though she knew it to be, she had to speak. ‘If we could be together like this all the time, you wouldn’t have to worry about access to Oliver, and all that business. The person you are, the one you described earlier - you don’t have to be like that, you know.’
‘Don’t I?’ Leo gazed at the fire.
‘I still love you. In spite of everything, I find I do. I could help you, whatever the trouble is. I really think I could.’
He turned to look at her. She sat like a Madonna, absently stroking Oliver’s hair, her beautiful eyes fixed on Leo’s face. He saw that Oliver had fallen asleep, his small face slack against Rachel’s body. ‘What about Charles?’
Rachel bent her head. ‘I’m not saying that I don’t love Charles. I do. He’s kind and very supportive, and he looks after me. Of course I love him. But if it meant that you and Oliver and I could be together—’
‘It’s not possible,’
said Leo suddenly. ‘For any number of reasons.’ He sighed, glancing away from Rachel, not wanting to see that look on her face, that look of humility and patience and hope. ‘First of all, I’ve done you far too much damage already. I don’t know if it’s some sort of pattern programmed into you, but you mustn’t keep coming back for more pain and rejection. That’s what would happen. I don’t want to sound brutal, but you know it’s true. I tried to tell you before we got married. You’ve found it all out for yourself. Why should you want to come back for more?’
‘I love you. And I love Oliver.’
‘You hate me. You must. What if I were to tell you that if Joshua were to walk through that door right now, I’d go to him? Without hesitation, without thought, I’d go to him.’ Rachel said nothing. ‘There are other reasons why it’s not possible. You need a family. You’ve just lost your mother. Don’t you think that might have something to do with the way you’re feeling? I can’t give you any of that. Tell me, how often do you see Charles’s sister and her family?’
‘Quite often. Oliver sometimes plays with Lottie, Charles’s niece. She’s three.’
‘And Charles has grown-up children. I remember you telling me that you get on well with them.’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s a family, Rachel. Charles can give you something I never could. He can give you and Oliver security and love. It’s what you need, now more than ever. Not more uncertainty and deception and unhappiness. Because that’s what you’re asking for in me.’
Rachel was silent for a moment, beaten down by Leo’s arguments. Then she lifted her eyes and looked at him curiously. ‘You don’t think much of yourself, do you?’
‘No,’ replied Leo, ‘I don’t. In many respects I think I’m a failure. The one thing I wanted to succeed at - being a father to Oliver - looks like eluding me, too.’ He sighed and stood up. ‘I’ll go and put Oliver’s things together. You should be heading back before it gets too late.’
He left the room. Rachel sat gazing at the fire, cradling Oliver’s small, inert body, knowing that it was the last time she would ever offer herself to Leo. Certain things between them had been dead for a long time, if they had ever been alive in the first place. She saw that now, suddenly and clearly, and she wished with all her might that Charles were not away.
On Monday, Felicity recounted her woes of the weekend to Henry. ‘They’ve charged Vince with GBH. The bloke he did over is still in hospital and he’s critical. Oh, God, Henry,’ she groaned, ‘why does he always have to mess it up? Every bloody time, he screws it up. If he goes down, that’s the end of his chances of getting his black cab licence. And then what’s he going to do? I had my hopes pinned on him getting his knowledge. Now what chance has he got of making a living? He’s good for eff-all, is Vince.’
Jeremy strode into the clerks’ room. ‘Why didn’t anybody tell me that hearing date had been changed? Everything’s going to hell around here. First Leo walks out, I get landed with half his work—’ He grabbed a brief out of the basket. ‘I’ve been waiting for this! Why didn’t you tell me it had come in? And why can’t you start chasing up some of my fee notes? I’ve got a tax bill the size of a third world country’s debt. I don’t know how you two run things. Place is a madhouse.’ He strode out again, and Felicity and Henry snorted with laughter.
‘You should be glad you’re leaving,’ observed Henry. ‘I sometimes wonder why I stay.’
‘Oh, Henry! Don’t remind me. How do you think it’s going to be when I’m out of a job, with a new baby, and Vince has got no work?’
‘True,’ agreed Henry miserably, wishing that there were a way of making his fantasy - the one in which Felicity left Vince because she found herself deeply in love with Henry and couldn’t live without him - a reality. Some chance. It seemed Felicity would stick with her beloved Vince, no matter what. ‘Don’t worry. It’ll all work out,’ he said mournfully.
Camilla came downstairs. ‘I’m just going over to Crown Office Row. I’ll only be ten minutes. If John Sharpies calls, tell him I’ll call him back.’
‘Okay,’ said Henry.
Camilla crossed Caper Court in the autumn sunshine, brooding on Anthony. The hurt of his casual betrayal of her while she was away had lessened over the last few days, but it had left in its wake a new understanding of the kind of person Anthony was, or was capable of being. She still felt as much for him as she had ever done, so much so that she was prepared to forgive him and let things go on as before, but she realised that the incident had brought about a certain shift in the balance of their relationship. An element of trust had gone. Anthony kept saying how sorry he was, in a way that rather puzzled Camilla, as though it was something everyone did now and again, as though he had a right to be forgiven.
Sarah was crossing Fountain Court when she saw Camilla coming out of Caper Court. She quickened her stride so that the two of them fell into step walking down Middle Temple Lane.
‘Hi,’ said Sarah with a smile. ‘Off to a con?’ Camilla marvelled at her falseness. How could she be so friendly after what she had done? No doubt she imagined that it was a safe little secret between herself and Anthony. That would explain her wonderfully smug smile. Sarah liked to be in the ascendant, behaving in that cool, knowing fashion which had so intimidated Camilla when they had been students at Oxford together.
‘No, I’m dropping some papers off,’ replied Camilla, her manner chilly.
‘I’m just off to the library.’ They turned the corner into Crown Office Row, walking in silence. ‘Everything all right between you and Anthony?’ asked Sarah, with an air of interested innocence.
Camilla stopped and turned to look at her. ‘Why do you ask? You really seem unduly interested in how things are between myself and Anthony. It may interest you to know that whatever damage you tried to do while I was away hasn’t had much effect. I know exactly what happened.’
Sarah flicked her blonde hair back from her shoulders. So Anthony had felt obliged to confess, had he? She had calculated that his simple conscience would eventually get the better of him. But how much had he really told Camilla? Not everything, clearly. Sarah’s smile broadened. ‘Do you? You must be remarkably forgiving, in that case. It was really a rather strenuous two weeks. He couldn’t leave me alone for a single night. I was worn out by the end, quite glad to see you back.’
Camilla was dumbstruck, totally taken aback by the outrageousness of what Sarah had said.
Sarah looked at Camilla with an expression of feigned concern. ‘Oh, I haven’t said the wrong thing, have I? I can be so indiscreet. It’s a dreadful failing.’
Camilla struggled against the helpless, angry tears that came to her eyes. ‘You are a complete bitch. The worst I’ve ever known. I don’t believe anything you say, Sarah. No one in their right mind would. You’re a scheming, conniving trouble-maker.’ Her voice shook as she tried to control it, wishing that she could match Sarah’s composure. But how could she? If what Sarah said was true, then Anthony had deceived her utterly, had made a complete mockery of her and of their relationship.
Sarah shrugged. ‘Don’t believe me. Believe Anthony if you like. You’ve got your wonderful, loving relationship to preserve, after all. But take it from me, darling, you’d be much better off just treating him as a casual lay. That’s what I do.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Must rush.’ She walked off, leaving Camilla standing, speechless, her heart raw, on the pavement of Crown Office Row.
Lunching with Anthony in a Chancery Lane wine bar, Chay was expressing concern at Leo’s sudden mysterious disappearance.
‘Not exactly the most convenient time for him to do a runner, particularly as he’s a member of the acquisitions committee. We’ve reached a critical point in putting together the core collection. You haven’t any idea at all where he’s gone, or when he’ll be back?’
Anthony shrugged. ‘My guess is that he’s gone off to his country retreat to sort himself out. I’ve been there, but I can’t for the life of me remember where
it is exactly. Somewhere in deepest Oxfordshire. No one in chambers knows either, and the clerks don’t have a phone number.’
‘Oh, well.’ Chay pushed away the remains of his vegetarian quiche. ‘We can manage without him, but it’s an inconvenience. He was in the middle of arranging for the purchase of some important sculptures. Strange - he seemed such a stable kind of guy to me. Very straight.’
Anthony gave a wry smile. ‘Looks can be deceptive. Beneath the pinstripes he’s a bit screwed up, I’m afraid. Well, he is at the moment.’ Anthony stared reflectively at his plate, then glanced up and signalled to a passing waiter for the bill. ‘Actually, I’ve just had a thought. His ex-wife will have his number in the country. Damn. Why didn’t I think of that before?’ Anthony was astonished that he should have overlooked Rachel as a means of getting in touch with Leo. ‘Tell you what, I’ll see if I can get hold of him through her and find out what’s going on.’
‘I’d be grateful. I particularly don’t want the acquisition of the Anthony Caro sculpture to fall through.’ The waiter placed the bill in front of Chay, who looked at it, then slid it across to Anthony. ‘Sorry - I’ve only got enough cash for a taxi.’
With a sigh, Anthony took a credit card from his wallet. No matter how many millions Chay was now worth, clearly the habits formed over a lifetime of living in squats and hippy communes died very hard.
On his way back to his room, Anthony knocked on the door of the room Camilla shared with Gerald, the newest junior tenant, and put his head round. He was pleased to see that Gerald was still out. Camilla was at her desk, apparently absorbed in what she was writing, her head propped on one hand.
‘Hi,’ said Anthony, closing the door behind him. ‘I was hoping to see you at lunch time, but my father called in and I had to take him to lunch. Do you know, he never pays for a meal? I still have to—’
‘Anthony, go away,’ said Camilla, without looking up.