Judicial Whispers (25 page)

‘Isn’t that a very selfish way of looking at life?’ she asked, her voice hesitant as her eyes searched his face.

How perfect she would like me to be, he thought.

‘Yes,’ he replied simply. ‘It is. But then, I am too busy to spend time worrying about the rest of the world.’ He paused. ‘What matters to you?’ he asked, feeling it only courteous to turn the question around.

‘Oh …’ She stared at her cup, then sat back and flicked her dark hair from her shoulders. ‘Honesty, I think. Yes, honesty most of all. In work, in relationships … Don’t you think that must be the most important thing?’ She looked up at him.

What was this about? he wondered. Perhaps nothing. He met her gaze. ‘I’m not sure,’ he replied. Which was no more than the truth. ‘I don’t know that it’s always wise to let the complete truth about oneself be known. Some things don’t bear discovery. Anyway, show me a person who’s totally honest with themselves, let alone the rest of the world.’

She sighed and smiled.

‘And if I’m being honest,’ he went on, ‘there’s nothing I’d like more than to take you back to bed and make love to you for the entire night’ – he slid his hands into the sleeves of her robe, stroking her bare arms – ‘but I have to go home and get some sleep. I have the first day of a Norwegian Sale Form case tomorrow.’

I wish it were so that he never had to go home, she thought. I want to be with him – every single hour, every single day. I want to be able to say ‘I love you’ right now, and hear him say it in return. That is what I meant about honesty. But I dare not. I dare not in case …

‘All right,’ she said, and smiled, drawing her hands away from his and beginning to pick up the plates.

‘I think, you know, that this case is going to keep me pretty busy for the next week or so,’ he said lightly, standing up and picking up his jacket. ‘I may not be able to see you until Sir Basil’s party on the sixteenth.’

A whole week, she thought, without him. Time in which she might as well not exist. ‘What about the weekend?’ she asked.

‘I have to spend most of that with these wretched clients and our solicitor. It’s Hugh Hoggart – you know what he’s like. And the clients are the jittery types. Anyway, I’d probably be too tired to be much fun.’

She came over and slid her arms around his waist as he put on his jacket, then lifted a hand to stroke his silver hair. He shrank inwardly from the treacherous familiarity of the gesture. Closer and closer. But he kissed her beautiful face and slid a hand inside her robe.

‘I’ll just have to make do with thinking about this evening until then,’ she said. He kissed her again, and she closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the delicious sensation of being in love, completely and unconditionally.

It was true, she thought, watching from the window as he walked to his car, his shirt open at the neck, stuffing his tie into his jacket pocket with one hand and pulling out his car keys with the other. Being in love exaggerated everything, taking the most trivial things to a pitch of drama and intensity which would be unbearable if one had to live one’s life always like that. But, of course, one could not live for ever in the euphoria of love. No one could. So what, then, is there to be for Leo and me? she wondered, letting the curtain drop back and turning to face the silent room. What comes after? She suddenly realised that the prospect of life without him was virtually unthinkable, a blank wilderness. She thrust the idea aside. No, the important thing with Leo was to make the most of what happened now. She’d had enough of dreading the future. Now was enough.

Although he was single, Sir Basil lived in a large, grand house in Hampstead, set well back from the road in spacious grounds, in which there was room for a separate small dwelling for the couple who tended his garden, prepared his meals and kept house for him. The house, and the life which Sir Basil lived within it, might have struck others as being both gloomy and formal, but it suited Sir Basil, who liked life to be a sober and practical business.

Mrs Leece, the housekeeper, had done her best to make the house look festive for the party, and the panelled rooms filled with people, light gleaming from chandeliers and log fires on the dark, polished furniture and ornate mirrors, looked more welcoming than usual that December evening. Sir Basil had even permitted a large Christmas tree, dressed with careful good taste by his sister Cora, to be erected in the curve of the stairwell.

Sir Basil looked around himself with serene satisfaction as guest after guest arrived – he felt this was to be an evening of some distinction, particularly with the presence of the new Lord Chancellor and his wife.

Leo was careful not to arrive too early. He and Rachel made their entrance twenty minutes after the stated time, and came in just behind Sir Frank Chamberlin and his wife.

Sir Basil greeted Leo suavely – Sir B in his element, thought Leo, as he handed his coat to the housekeeper – and bestowed his most gracious, elder-statesmanlike smile upon Rachel.

‘I hope I shall have the pleasure of talking to you a little later in the evening,’ he said to her, thinking what a very attractive girl she was, rather young for Davies, before turning to greet his next guest.

Leo, for his own peace of mind, thought it best to avoid Frank Chamberlin at first, although he could see from the corner of his eye that Frank’s tall, stooping figure had turned to look in their direction. But it was not long, once he and Rachel had met and begun to talk to other guests, before Frank managed to intercept Leo near the table where drinks stood and steer him into a brief tête-à-tête.

‘I see you took me at my word after all,’ he said to Leo, smiling conspiratorially as he raised his glass.

Leo scratched his jaw. ‘Well, Frank, things are not always what they seem …’

Sir Frank lifted his hand, like a policeman on point duty, and stopped him. ‘No, no – no need to say any more. But a very sound move, I can assure you. Mostyn has already been talking about her. Good idea to pick such a stunner.’ He nodded and sipped his drink.

‘Well, Frank, I didn’t pick her—’ began Leo. Then he stopped, realising this was untrue.

‘The important thing is,’ went on Sir Frank, tapping Leo lightly on the lapel of his dinner jacket, his voice almost a whisper, ‘that she’ll make enough of an impression on the Lord Chancellor and a couple of others here – did you know Lord Brabsy and the Attorney General are here as well? – well,
anyway, it might help to scotch some of the rumours that have been flying about.’ He nodded again. ‘You know.’

Leo grasped Sir Frank firmly by the upper arm and steered him away from the table and towards the fireplace and greater privacy. ‘What rumours are flying about?’

Sir Frank looked startled, dismayed, and then became resigned. ‘Leo, I hear only the very vaguest things, you know. But’ – he paused, regarding his glass, then shaking his head – ‘I have the impression that Bernard Lightfoot’s clerk is – um – well, now, I shouldn’t say a scandalmonger, should I? But, oh, you know how tight those fellows are with one another. I should say that whatever has crept out is from some – how shall I say? – some underground source. Perhaps he has picked something up from – well … Oh, Leo, I detest saying this kind of thing to you, you know I do …’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Leo. ‘Go on.’

‘Well,’ Frank continued miserably, swallowing the last of his Scotch, ‘there was something about you picking up law students – you know, young men. That is to say—’

‘That’s a bloody lie!’ said Leo under his breath. As though he would ever do anything so crass.

‘Well, well, I’m not trying to distress you,’ said Sir Frank, wanting now to escape. ‘I have to say that they are merely the flimsiest of tales. Mostyn has already said that he regards them as rubbish. No doubt Sir Mungo feels the same. But, coming on the heels of – well, you know … However, all I meant to say, in the beginning, was that, well, I’m sure your young lady friend will be a great help to you in all of this. You really must, you know, introduce me …’ He began to edge away from Leo.

Leo let him go, and stood by the fire on his own for a few moments. It wasn’t worth becoming angry about. He had nothing to fear but the truth. Lies were the least of his worries.

He attached himself to Rachel once again, and at last, by
careful manipulation of the little drifting sets of people in the room, found himself in the same conversational group as that of Sir Basil and the Lord Chancellor.

Lord Steele of Strathbuchat was a large, craggy Scot with a square jaw and crinkling grey hair brushed back from a low forehead. The drink he nursed in its crystal tumbler looked small in his large hands, and his formidable appearance was heightened by a slight squint, which gave the impression to anyone speaking to him that his attention was not fully fixed on what they were saying, but rather wandering.

Sir Basil introduced Rachel and Leo to Lord Steele and to the other members of their little group. Leo noted as he listened – only listened at first – that the conversation seemed to have become locked into stilted formality over some question concerning the European Community, the women’s eyes bright with feigned interest, the men’s faces already bored with the subject. Gradually, but without appearing too importunate, Leo brought himself into the discussion, asserting himself with his natural charm and eventually delighting them with two very amusing stories concerning the ponderous doings of the European Court of Justice – not a subject upon which it was easy to be amusing. Everyone in that little group was conscious of a lifting of spirits, aware of a gradual relaxation of tone that this assured and witty man had brought about.

Lord Steele felt the customary stiffness of those around him unbending, and was sufficiently encouraged to launch into an anecdote of his own, which was well received. He began to enjoy himself. He had imagined that this evening, like Sir Basil himself, would be a rather difficult, formal affair – he still had only acquaintances, rather than friends, in London, and his natural Scottish gregariousness had been repressed by the dignity of his new office. He felt that he could chat amiably to this man, and
he liked the fact that Leo had either the luck or the good taste to possess such a lovely companion.

As for Leo, he appeared, in spite of Lord Steele’s mildly disconcerting strabismal gaze, to be thoroughly at his ease. In short, he was a success, and, more importantly, a memorable one.

Rachel watched him with all the utter serenity of love. That Leo should so charm and impress others was no more than she expected. She knew nothing of the complete concentration and effort of mental energy which went into her beloved’s performance.

After a little while, the eddies and currents of the party carried its guest of honour off into other parts of the room, and as Leo glanced round he saw a familiar, bucolic face, topped by a thatch of blonde hair.

‘Hello, Leo!’ exclaimed the young man. Leo suddenly recognised him as Edward Choke, Sir Basil’s nephew, erstwhile pupil at 5 Caper Court.

‘Edward,’ murmured Leo with a smile. ‘How are you? What are you up to these days?’

‘Oh, not a lot. I’ve given up the farming lark, you know. Missed London. Not a lot to do in Surrey, really, except go to the pub. So Father got me a place at Morgan Grenfell.’ He scratched his head. ‘I’m not making much of it, but it’s early days.’

Leo smiled, wondering to himself if Morgan Grenfell realised what a priceless gem of complete inanity they had in their midst. Still, he thought, the City was chock-full of Edwards, well-meaning young hoorays coasting by, heaping up the easy money of the eighties.

‘Anyway, how’s Anthony getting along?’ asked Edward. ‘D’you know, I haven’t seen him since I left chambers. I’ll have to look him up now I’m back in London.’

‘Oh, he’s well,’ replied Leo, thinking how different life
would be if Sir Basil had had his way and Edward was their junior tenant instead of Anthony. ‘He seems to be getting lots of work.’

‘I always knew he’d be better at it than me,’ said Edward. ‘But listen, can I get you another drink? Uncle Bas sort of put me in charge of the drinks department.’

‘Yes, thanks,’ said Leo, handing his glass to Edward.

He stood on his own for a few seconds, watching Rachel on the other side of the room talking to Tony Brabsy and his wife – all to the good – when he felt the pressure of a hand upon his arm. ‘Hello, Leo,’ said a girl’s voice, and when he turned, he found Sarah’s face, with its foxy, clever smile, looking into his.

Dear God, he thought, what was she doing here? A wave of panic and disbelief shook him, but he managed to smile, raised his eyebrows and said, ‘Well, well. What a surprise.’

‘Isn’t it?’ She made an expression of mock surprise in return. Apart from the fact that she was more formally dressed than he had ever seen her, in a low-cut dress of black taffeta, she was just the same, with her silky curtain of blonde hair and her pretty, crafty face. He pursed his lips and smiled again, his glance flitting nervously around.

‘You really
are
surprised to see me, aren’t you?’ she said with amusement, watching his face.

He took a deep breath, lifted his chin and looked straight at her. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘If you want to know, I am. What brings you here?’

She nodded in the direction of a plump man in his mid fifties standing next to the fireplace. ‘He does,’ she said, sipping her wine, still watching him.

Leo surveyed the familiar figure of the Chief Recorder of London and then looked back at Sarah. ‘Christ, you don’t mean you’re—’

Sarah threw back her head and laughed, a clear, silvery sound,
just a little too loud. A few people glanced at her, and at Leo.

‘No, I’m not that hard-pushed, Leo, darling. He’s my father.’

‘Oh. You didn’t tell me.’

‘Well, I hardly thought it would interest you, did I? I mean, I didn’t even know you were a barrister – everything was so secretive, wasn’t it, Leo?’ She smiled and sipped her drink, adding reflectively, mischievously, ‘What a furtive little summer we had.’ She paused. ‘All three of us.’

He said nothing, but a knot of anxiety was growing in his stomach. This was a dangerous young lady, he knew, and an unscrupulous, irresponsible one, too.

‘Actually,’ continued Sarah, ‘I’ve only just been finding out what a terribly clever lawyer you are. And what a very lovely girlfriend you have.’ Leo glanced instinctively in Rachel’s direction, and Sarah followed his gaze. ‘She doesn’t—well, how shall I put it?’ mused Sarah, rocking her drink from one hand to the other. ‘She doesn’t exactly look as though she’d be into our kinds of naughtiness, does she? You know, three in a bed …’ A muscle flickered in Leo’s jaw as he glanced to see if anyone was in earshot of this. ‘Speaking of which,’ added Sarah, ‘you haven’t asked after James yet.’

‘Now, I wonder why that might be?’ murmured Leo.

‘But since you ask,’ continued Sarah, ‘I should tell you that he was extremely cut up about being booted out by you in that rather perfunctory way. I think you dented his pride.’

‘That is a matter of some indifference to me,’ replied Leo.

‘Well, yes, I thought it might be.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve bumped into him a couple of times, and he does seem to be in something of a bad way, drifting around, doing too much of the wrong kind of drugs—’

‘And what,’ asked Leo, clearing his throat, ‘are you doing with yourself these days?’ He gave her an even, interested smile.

‘Have I touched on a raw nerve, darling? I
am
sorry. What
am I doing? Well, I’m doing my finals this year. And then I go to Bar School.’

‘I didn’t know you were reading law,’ remarked Leo, furiously casting around in his mind for any reason why this girl should do him any harm. For she could, he knew, if she chose to. Dear God above, why must fate do this to him?

‘You never asked. It wasn’t one of the things about me that you were particularly interested in,’ replied Sarah, thinking how wonderfully attractive Leo looked this evening – the only man in the room worth going to bed with, and that included Edward Choke. Leo had once been hers, in a manner of speaking, and now he was the possession of that beautiful, Madonna-faced creature in the corner. Sarah had heard quite enough people that evening remarking on what a wonderful couple she and Leo made. A flame of jealousy and mischief burned bright within her. ‘But we had other things on our mind then, Leo, didn’t we?’ He said nothing, wondering where the hell Edward had got to with that drink. Sarah lowered her voice. ‘I still haven’t forgotten some of the things we used to do …’ Her voice was velvet. ‘We still could, if you wanted to …’

He tried to speak, but had to clear his throat again. Tension, he realised, a problem he occasionally encountered in court.

‘I don’t really think it would be worthwhile – do you?’ He turned his level blue gaze on her, and she felt a flash of anger and spite.

‘Just think,’ she said, ‘of all the people here’ – her glance comprehended the roomful of judicial eminence – ‘who would be absolutely fascinated to hear how you spent your summer. Mmm?’

‘I hardly think,’ replied Leo, ‘that your father would be particularly edified by your part in it.’

‘Ah, but I have nothing to lose – in a professional sense, I mean. Whereas you …’

I do not believe this, thought Leo savagely. Why is this happening to me? All the miscalculations, the mistakes, coming home to roost.

‘What are you specialising in for your finals?’ he asked as mildly as he could.

‘International trade,’ replied Sarah, slightly taken aback by the apparent irrelevance of the question.

Leo smiled. ‘How very interesting,’ he said. ‘My field, too. Just think – in two years’ time you’ll be looking for a pupillage. And just think of all the people I know. Every head of chambers in every decent set, every silk, every junior looking for a pupil. My, my.’