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- Herausgeber: Allison & Busby
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Serie: Caper Court
- Sprache: Englisch
'Fraser keeps the reader hooked' Sunday Times To all the world, Leo Davies is both a successful and charismatic QC, whose flourishing career is the envy of the legal profession. But this outward facade conceals a troubled private life, one that he is struggling to keep hidden from his clients and co-workers. When feelings for a close colleague in chambers are rekindled, Leo is torn between following his heart and breaking apart the fragile relationship he has with his daughter. And with a new lawyer joining the team at 5 Caper Court, Leo is also in for a rude awakening at work. As professional rivalries become personal entanglements, flings and rumours abound, and Leo will discover the danger of mixing business with pleasure.
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Seitenzahl: 374
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020
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3
A Touch of Silk
CARO FRASER
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
It was a raw, blustery Monday in late March, and a biting wind laden with bursts of icy rain whipped the bare branches of the trees in King’s Bench Walk. Anthony Cross, a tall, dark-haired barrister in his mid-thirties, swung himself off his bicycle and eased it into the bike rack. As he did so, he caught sight of a familiar, silver-haired figure in a cashmere coat crossing the cobbles.
‘Morning,’ he called out.
Leo Davies smiled as he drew near, his heart lifting in genuine pleasure at the sight of the younger man. ‘Good morning. How was the holiday?’
‘Barbados was excellent, thanks. Bit of a pain coming back to this.’
He locked his bike and the two of them made their way together up King’s Bench Walk to the chambers where they both worked. 5 Caper Court, one of the most renowned sets of commercial chambers in the Temple, was home to 6some forty or so barristers, whose interests were protected and careers guided under the benign supervision of Henry Dawes, the head clerk, and his deputy, Felicity Waller.
It was Felicity who greeted Leo and Anthony as they came into the clerks’ room that morning. Buxom, cheerful, with dark curly hair and an irrepressible personality, her appearance was somewhat at odds with the dignity of her office. Instead of the customary black-and-white business attire of most of her colleagues, she dressed to suit her mood, expressed today in the form of a very short bright red skirt, black tights and knee-length boots, and a tight-fitting blue woollen jumper.
‘Morning, Mr D,’ she called out cheerily. He was her favourite amongst the tenants of 5 Caper Court. She thought of him as one of the few genuine people in chambers. He might be the most brilliant commercial QC in London, with a raft of well-heeled international clients and a reputation for being both formidable and charming. She liked the fact that, unlike most of his peers, Leo had come up the hard way, from working-class beginnings in a Welsh village, with none of the benefits of a public school education and the network of opportunity that went with it. He had also helped her weather a variety of storms in her life, both emotional and professional, and she had a bit of a crush on him – he might be nearer sixty than fifty, but with those eyes, and that beautiful silver hair, he was still a looker.
‘Good morning, Felicity.’
‘You know you’ve got a con with Bilboroughs soon?’
‘I do indeed. I thought I’d be here half an hour ago. The traffic on the Embankment was hellish.’ 7
‘Maybe you should be like Mr Cross and get yourself a bike. You’d get around a lot quicker.’
‘You’re probably right,’ said Leo, ‘but I don’t really want to come into chambers sweating, and then have to spend half an hour showering and changing. To say nothing of breathing in a load of particulates.’
At that moment a blonde woman in a black suit strode into the clerks’ room, took her post from the pigeonhole and left without a glance or word of acknowledgement to the others.
‘Who was that?’ asked Anthony.
‘Natalie King,’ replied Henry. ‘She joined us from 7 KBW while you were away.’ Henry Dawes was in his late thirties, with a mournful demeanour that masked a light soul and a loving heart. He had long nursed a deep and abiding affection for Felicity, but an incipient romance between them a few years ago – which had withered and died on Felicity’s part within a few months – had left a mark on their otherwise harmonious relationship.
‘Oh yes – the Claire Underwood of the commercial world. Scary.’ Anthony sighed as he unzipped his parka. ‘I don’t know who anyone is any more – hardly anyone comes into chambers, and everyone seems to get e-briefs. Give me a hard copy any day. The last time I was in court they spent fifteen minutes trying to locate a witness bundle that had simply disappeared from the system overnight.’
‘Bit of an exaggeration to say no one comes in any more,’ observed Leo. ‘They have to, for all our endless committee meetings. We seem to be forming a new committee every week. The bloody things are so disruptive.’
‘The younger element seem to like them,’ observed Henry. 8
‘The Hitler Youth lot, you mean – they just love structures and rules. Sometimes it feels like being run by a kind of junior thought police. Where’s the individualism? The whole place is becoming so corporate.’
‘You’re such a rebel, Mr D.’ Felicity smiled.
‘As I’m constantly being reminded.’
Leo and Anthony left the clerks’ room and went upstairs.
Leo paused on the landing outside his room. ‘Speaking of meetings, the pupillage committee is meeting tomorrow – you’re on that, aren’t you?’
‘Afraid so. I couldn’t think of a decent excuse not to be.’
‘Maybe you can give my candidate, Alistair Egan, a bit of a leg-up,’ said Leo, as he keyed in his security code. ‘He did a mini-pupillage with you, didn’t he?’
‘Yes. I liked him. Seemed very much on the ball.’
‘He’s remarkably promising. I want to make sure he gets an interview.’ He gave Anthony a glance. ‘Care to come in for a moment? I was instructed on a grounding case recently, and I could do with your views.’
Anthony followed Leo into his room, which was spotlessly tidy, free of the clutter of briefs and papers that usually littered the other tenants’ rooms. Neat shelves containing legal casebooks lined one wall, and on the opposite wall hung a series of German expressionist woodcuts. The furniture consisted of nothing more than an extremely expensive and well-sprung Herman Miller office chair, a polished walnut desk, and a large circular conference table. The only items that gave any clue to the inner life of Leo Davies QC were two silver-framed photographs that stood on the desk – one of a pretty, smiling young woman, Leo’s daughter from a fleeting relationship twenty-seven years previously, and the 9other of his twelve-year-old son, Oliver, the product of a short-lived marriage that had disintegrated over a decade ago. Leo and his ex-wife Rachel, a City solicitor, remained on amenable terms and shared the care of Oliver, but the relationship was strained by the fact that Rachel, even though she had remarried, still had strong feelings for her ex-husband – feelings of both love and animosity.
Anthony took a seat. Leo hung up his coat, extracted a bundle of papers from his briefcase, and fired up his laptop. He glanced at Anthony, taking in his easy, athletic posture and the holiday tan that enhanced his good looks, remembering the day he had first set foot in this room, raw, fresh-faced, barely more than a boy in his Marks & Spencer suit, eager to learn and please. Now, some fifteen years later, he was an assured, much-sought-after junior barrister with a reputation for speed and thoroughness, a healthy bank balance and discerning tastes for the finer things in life. Leo felt he had been responsible for a good part of Anthony’s development. He liked to think his mentoring had been more than merely professional, that he had educated Anthony socially, artistically, intellectually – and sexually, too, on the basis that such beauty could not be allowed to go to waste. He felt no guilt about that. Leo was beyond guilt. He had always taken his pleasures where he found them, with men and women, being of the view that everyone’s sexual sensibilities were simply there for the awakening. For Leo, his own personal pleasure had always been paramount, and if he was dimly aware that Anthony, in the wake of their occasional sexual encounters – and nothing had occurred for a long time now – felt any self-disgust or unhappiness, that had merely added a certain relish. 10
Leo’s gaze shifted from Anthony to his laptop screen. ‘Let me just bring up the instructions.’
While Leo scrolled through pages of documents, Anthony glanced at the photograph of Leo’s daughter, Gabrielle, with a flicker of disquiet. It was in the past now, but he couldn’t help thinking that the Fates that had brought her into his life had been particularly malicious. Had he known she was Leo’s daughter, would he ever have slept with her? The whole thing was bizarrely confused. Until a few years ago Leo himself hadn’t even known he had a daughter until, armed with background information from her mother, Gabrielle had tracked him down. Anthony couldn’t help wondering now, looking back, if he had been attracted to her because she reminded him of Leo. But that romance was dead and done now, and probably just as well. A complex case had taken him to Singapore for months on end, and the thing had simply fizzled out – though he’d been surprised and mildly hurt by the speed with which her affection and enthusiasm had cooled. Leo had been ostensibly indifferent, but it was only when the Singapore case settled that Anthony realised that it had been Leo who had been largely instrumental in getting him instructed on it in the first place.
Leo, Leo. Anthony studied the older man as he gazed at the laptop screen, its faint light etching the sharpness of his cheekbones, and the wing-like darkness of eyebrows that contrasted with his thick silver hair. Those eyes, too – a piercing blue that could flash with inviting warmth or glacial coldness, depending on his mood. The charisma of the man was undeniable. In his early days at 5 Caper Court, when he was young and idealistic, Anthony’s heart 11used to contract with pleasure at hearing Leo’s voice, his laughter in the clerks’ room, or the sound of his swift footstep on the stairs. The knowledge that at any moment he would see Leo, be able to talk to and listen to him, would set off shockwaves of excitement. At twenty-one, he had never met anyone so witty, so knowledgeable about life and all the fine things to be had from it, and at the same time so profoundly intelligent, so passionate about the law, and with such a razor-sharp intellect. That he and Leo came from similar backgrounds – families without much money, a grammar school and non-Oxbridge education – had made him feel they had a special bond. Infatuation, pure and simple. It was undeniably still there. But it had taken some time to find out just how coolly negligent Leo could be where people were concerned, how careless of their feelings. He remembered all too clearly the night their friendship had tipped into something else – something he still couldn’t understand or properly acknowledge. So yes – just as well he and Gabrielle were no longer seeing one another.
‘Here we go,’ said Leo, leaning back in his chair. ‘The Alpha Six, bulk carrier, loaded a cargo of fifty thousand tons of iron ore in Liberia, and grounded half a mile out of port. A constructive total loss. We’re on for the charterers.’
‘Don’t tell me. The cargo shifted due to excessive moisture content, and the shipowners are saying the charterers falsified the cargo declaration?’
‘How did you guess? Our P&I club has had surveyors running around out there for weeks. I know you had a similar case a few months ago, so I thought I’d pick your brain.’ 12
Anthony raised an eyebrow. ‘As cases go, isn’t this rather below your pay grade?’
‘The charterer is Montial. They used to put all their work Charles Brownwood’s way, but he’s moving to the bench, and they want someone new to instruct. If this one goes well it could open up a lucrative line of work.’
‘Nice to have the world’s largest commodities trader briefing you on a regular basis.’
‘Quite. Also, this shipment was one of the first to come out of their new mining facility in Liberia. They want to be seen to be running a reliable operation, and this incident doesn’t exactly promote that image.’
They discussed the case for fifteen minutes or so, then Anthony glanced at his watch. ‘I’d best make tracks. I’m due in court in an hour.’ As he rose to leave, he couldn’t help asking, ‘How’s Gabrielle these days?’
‘Fine, so far as I know. I hardly see her from one month to the next. She’s got a new tenancy now in a criminal set in Bedford Row. Or maybe you already knew that.’
‘Yes, I heard.’ He’d never discussed with Leo his break-up with Gabrielle. What was there to say, in any event? ‘Right, I’ll get going. See you later.’
The door closed. Leo sat, reflecting. Anthony evidently still had feelings for Gabrielle. But it was for everyone’s good that that relationship had come to an end. It hadn’t been difficult to sow the seeds of its destruction, by dropping a mention to a friend of a friend of Gabrielle’s the manufactured rumour that Anthony was conducting quite a steamy affair with one of the female partners in the Singapore law firm. As he’d anticipated, Gabrielle had picked it up and come to him with her concerns, and it 13had been the easiest thing in the world to tell her that, regretfully, he’d heard the same thing, at the same time advising her that rather than confronting Anthony with his behaviour, she’d be best off cutting her losses, retaining her dignity and cool, and letting the relationship peter out. Touching, he reflected, how readily his daughter had believed him. But he had acted out of her best interests. Given the history between himself and Anthony, any relationship between Anthony and his daughter had seemed positively unhealthy. There were plenty of other young men for her to fall in love with.
As he moved his laptop and papers over to the conference table for the meeting, his mobile phone rang. The sight of Sergei’s name on the screen gave him one of those delicious, heart-stopping moments that didn’t come often enough these days. He let the phone buzz for a moment, then answered it, keeping his tone casual.
‘Sergei – it’s been a while.’
‘Hi, Leo.’ The voice was warm, dark, Russian-accented. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m well – you?’
‘Tired. Got in at seven this morning from New York.’ His voice held a yawn. Leo imagined his lean dancer’s body stretched out on some hotel bed. ‘The company is in London for two weeks till the end of April. I thought maybe we could get together.’
Leo allowed a second’s hesitation before responding. ‘Listen, I’m just about to go into a meeting. How about if I call you later?’
‘Yeah, sure.’ Leo heard the shrug of disappointment in Sergei’s voice. Perfect. 14
He ended the call. Nothing for six months – and Leo knew for a fact that the Barinov Ballet Company had had two tour dates in London in the past year – and suddenly he rang out of the blue wanting to meet up. As though he was the one who set the terms. Leo pondered for a moment, wondering how to play this. Not to call back, to let the fortnight pass without seeing Sergei and enjoying his beautiful body, would be cutting off his own nose to spite his face. It was just a question of making it clear who was in control. And that, of course, was part of the fun.
Shortly after six Leo drove back from chambers to his home in Chelsea. He had bought the handsome three-storey house in Gratton Crescent a few years ago. It was larger than he needed, but it gave Oliver his own bedroom and playroom, and Leo liked the well-proportioned rooms with their long windows, and the leafy peace of the large rear garden. He eased the Aston Martin into a parking bay and got out. The blustery weather earlier in the day had died away, and for the first time, the air held a mild note of spring. The clocks had gone forward the previous weekend, and the evening sky was still light. He went up the steps and unlocked the front door. The house was silent. As he took off his overcoat he noticed that the coatrack was laden with what seemed like a ridiculous number of Sarah’s jackets and coats. Why couldn’t she put stuff back in her wardrobe? It made the hallway look spectacularly messy. On impulse he gathered them from the hooks and carted them all upstairs, and dumped them in her bedroom. She’d left in a rush the day before, headed off on a spa break with some girlfriends, and the room was in its usual untidy state, with clothes over chairs, the curtains still 15drawn, and a scattering of make-up on her dressing table.
He gazed around the room in irritation. As an on-off girlfriend, he liked having Sarah around. She was a clever, stimulating girl, and extremely sexy. She understood him in ways that few other people did. But when, in a moment of unusual susceptibility, he had suggested she should move in with him, he hadn’t realised that enforced companionship might rob their relationship of one of its most attractive aspects – unpredictability. True, she was volatile and impulsive, and hugely undomesticated, and led her own life much of the time. But she took for granted the rather messy space she now occupied in his life. Sexually she was too available. She had made him too available. He compensated for all of this by seeing other people on the side – being careful that she should never find out.
His mind moved to Sergei. It might be irksome that the touring life of a ballet dancer made it impossible to predict when an opportunity might arise to continue their clandestine affair, but surely that was the point? Therein lay the excitement, the challenge. He took his phone from his pocket and rang Sergei’s number.
‘Hi.’ Sergei’s tone was light, expectant. He sounded relieved to get Leo’s call. Which was just the balance Leo wanted.
‘Hi. Are you still tired, or did you manage to get some sleep?’
‘A few hours. I’m feeling OK.’
‘Good. I thought maybe you’d like to come round this evening. Have some dinner, maybe stay the night – unless you have rehearsals tomorrow?’ 16
‘We don’t start rehearsing till Wednesday. Everyone’s jet-lagged. Yeah, I’d like to come over. Give me an hour.’
Leo returned his phone to his pocket and went downstairs to the kitchen to put together some ingredients for dinner. Something light, perhaps, bearing in mind the pleasurable exertions that lay ahead.
CHAPTER TWO
The next morning Leo was up at eight. He showered, dressed, made coffee, and took some up to the bedroom where Sergei was drowsing amongst a tangle of sheets.
‘Here you go. Something to perk you up.’ Leo set the mug down next to the bed and went to fetch a tie from the closet.
Sergei sat up and reached out for the coffee, and Leo cast an appreciative glance at his lean, well-muscled body, the tapering waist and narrow hips. Dancers had such a beautiful blend of strength and grace. Last night had been a refreshing change from sexual domesticity with Sarah, which made it all the more irritating to think that he had to take steps to ensure she didn’t find out. There would be hell to pay if she did. As long as she lived beneath his roof, he could do without domestic squabbles.
He finished knotting his tie and shrugged on his suit jacket. Sergei reached out a hand. ‘Stay for half an hour?’ 18
Leo gazed into Sergei’s dark, liquid eyes and returned his smile. ‘I’d love to, but I can’t.’
Sergei pouted theatrically. The camp gesture irritated Leo, but he bent and kissed him, saying, ‘Help yourself to breakfast. You know where everything is.’
Sergei yawned and lay back on the pillows. ‘I’ll call you before the company leaves London.’
The pupillage committee was meeting at ten that morning. It was composed mainly of younger members of chambers, but Leo still felt it his duty, as head of chambers, to attend, tedious though he found it. The job of the committee was to consider applications from candidates hopeful of securing a pupillage at 5 Caper Court, a much-sought-after, twelve-month opportunity to work on cases and learn from the best minds in chambers, and carrying with it the possibility of a permanent tenancy at the end.
Leo took a seat next to Anthony as the various committee members trickled into the meeting room. ‘Tell me, how much do we award our pupils these days?’ he murmured.
‘It’s gone up to seventy grand.’
‘Good grief. And tax-free, too. Back in my day, unless your parents could afford to pay your way, you had to get by on what you could scrape together from scholarships and part-time work.’
‘You have to admit it’s made it less elitist.’
‘You think so?’ Leo glanced up in surprise as Natalie King took a seat at the end of the table. ‘Why is she here?’
Anthony shrugged. ‘Maybe she’s keen to get involved in stuff.’ 19
Leo regarded Natalie. She was dressed in an elegant and expensively cut black suit and a cream silk blouse, with minimal jewellery and make-up, and wore her blonde hair in a shoulder-length bob. Now in her mid-forties, she was still extremely attractive, in a somewhat chilly way. Had they had a thing together in their younger days? He wasn’t entirely sure, but would be surprised if they hadn’t. In his encounters with her on numerous cases over the years he had found her to be an intellectually daunting opponent, and a formidable advocate, and he had welcomed her arrival at 5 Caper Court. She would be an asset.
Lisa Blackmore, the chair of the committee, called the meeting to order. She was a diminutive thirty-year-old, with whom Leo had what could best be described as a somewhat prickly relationship. He admired her abilities as a lawyer, but was troubled by her lack of humour, and her beady-eyed tendency to focus on minor squabbles in chambers and turn them into major issues. She was one of a high-minded, up-and-coming cohort of younger tenants who regarded 5 Caper Court not as a loose, friendly association of individuals bound together by agreements that recognised their joint and several interests, but as a sleek, corporate vehicle that would propel their ambitious careers along prosperous and (of course) righteous paths. These younger tenants regarded Leo and others of his generation, with their relaxed and caustically incorrect attitudes to life and work, as dinosaurs, so much dead wood to be cleared out of their paths.
On Lisa’s left sat Arun Sikand, 5 Caper Court’s first Sikh tenant, and another young member of what Leo regarded as the militant tendency within chambers. 20
‘Right, let’s get down to business,’ said Lisa. ‘We have an unusual situation, in that one of the people to whom we offered a pupillage has dropped out. So we’re only looking at a handful of potential interviewees – four or five at the outside, I’d have thought. Let’s run through who we’ve got.’
They considered the merits of the various applicants for fifteen minutes or so, and just as Leo was about to mention his protégé, Alistair Egan, Natalie spoke up.
‘There’s a name I’d like to add to the list.’ She slid a sheaf of papers over to Lisa. ‘Sian Attwood. She’s not a conventional candidate, but I think she’s exceptionally strong. For the past four years she’s been lecturing in law at Oriel College, but she decided she’d like to change tack and take up a career at the Bar. She was admitted last year. She has a starred double-first from Cambridge, she’s won any number of scholarships, and last year she wrote an outstanding paper on dishonest assistance of a breach of trust after the exercise of a lien on sub-freights.’
Leo raised an eyebrow. ‘A somewhat esoteric aspect of law.’
‘She sounds interesting,’ said Lisa, glancing through the papers and then passing them to Arun.
David Liphook, a stocky, middle-aged QC, and a long-standing friend of Leo’s, spoke up. ‘Don’t you think academics tend to be – well, somewhat academic? Being a practitioner at the Commercial Bar, or in our chambers at any rate, requires a high degree of pragmatism.’
‘That’s something you can judge at interview,’ said Natalie.
‘Well, while we’re at it,’ said Leo, ‘I have someone in mind as well. Alistair Egan. Some of you may remember 21him. He’s done a couple of mini-pupillages with us.’ There was a murmur of recognition. ‘He may not have a starred double-first from Cambridge, but he’s shown exceptional ability, and I for one would like to see him given a chance with us.’
‘What are his qualifications?’ asked Natalie.
‘A two-one from Newcastle. In history. He did a GDL conversion.’
‘Is that really the quality of candidate we’re looking for?’ Natalie glanced around the table. ‘I would have thought an Oxbridge degree – a first, or a two-one at least – must be a prerequisite?’
‘Well, if it was, I for one wouldn’t be here,’ replied Leo.
‘The Bar was a less competitive place back then,’ said Natalie. ‘Surely nowadays we can afford the luxury of only looking at those of the highest calibre.’
There was a brief, astonished silence. Leo smiled, and cast his glance downwards.
For Anthony the insult was too blatant to ignore. ‘It seems to me you wouldn’t recognise calibre if you fell over it on the stairs,’ he said to Natalie. She stared at him coldly, and people shifted uneasily in their chairs. ‘Perhaps a few weeks in our company isn’t long enough for you to properly judge the contribution of your fellow tenants. We don’t just go by qualifications and pieces of paper. Talent is everything. Which is why I vote to give Alistair Egan an interview. He was very impressive in his short time here.’
‘Hear, hear,’ said David.
‘I don’t see why we shouldn’t interview both,’ said Lisa.
‘I do,’ said Natalie. ‘I hesitate to make this personal, but I think Leo may have a particular reason why he’s putting 22this young man’s name forward.’ She turned to Leo. ‘Wasn’t it because of some special relationship with you that he got his mini-pupillage here in the first place?’
Leo raised his eyes and met Natalie’s frigid stare. ‘That is an outrageous suggestion. And you have absolutely no justification for making it.’
‘I think I have every justification. These may be enlightened times, but how can we turn a blind eye to the kind of romantic favouritism that has characterised your behaviour with junior members of the Bar over the years?’
‘Look here, we’ve all taken an interest in and promoted talented youngsters,’ interjected David, in an attempt to defuse the situation. ‘That hardly amounts—’
Natalie didn’t take her eyes off Leo. ‘He’s an extremely attractive young man, and I happen to know that you’ve spent an inordinate amount of time in his company.’
‘Are you joking?’ demanded Anthony.
Natalie shifted her gaze to him. ‘You of all people should be able to spot the signs.’
There was an appalled silence.
‘I think you should be very careful what you say,’ said Leo.
Lisa Blackmore sat silently, glancing from Leo to Natalie as though weighing up the balance of power.
David murmured in a placatory manner, ‘Please, I think we should calm down and try to look rationally—’
‘If this committee interviews Sian Attwood without interviewing Alistair Egan, as head of chambers I will demand a full investigation into the frankly slanderous remarks made here today,’ interrupted Leo.
Lisa glanced at Natalie. ‘If you have nothing to substantiate your remarks, I think maybe you should withdraw them.’ 23
Natalie shrugged. ‘Very well. But you can’t go on with this slapdash way of doing things. These chambers need to apply rigorous standards, and academically this young man sounds inadequate.’
‘That, as you have pointed out,’ replied Leo, ‘is something you can judge at interview.’
David said quickly, ‘Look here, since both candidates come on the personal recommendation of two senior members of chambers, I think we should add their names to the list.’ There were hesitant murmurs of agreement. ‘That gives us four candidates in all, I think?’
Lisa nodded. She wrote for a moment, and then read out the list of names. ‘I’ll notify the committee of the dates for interview in due course.’ She looked up. ‘I think that concludes the business of the meeting for the day. Thank you, everyone.’
Leo rose without a word, pushing back his chair, and left the room, followed by Anthony and David. The other committee members filed out, leaving just Natalie, Lisa and Arun.
‘Do you know something no one else does?’ Lisa asked Natalie.
‘We all know Leo Davies’ reputation. He has a history of promoting good-looking young men in whom he’s taken – shall we call it, a close personal interest? Of course, it’s not the kind of thing that is ever brought up—’
‘You just did,’ observed Arun.
Natalie gave him a cool glance. ‘I would have thought you younger tenants would want to promote diversity within chambers. If you take on Leo Davies’ protégé, you’re just perpetuating the unreconstructed, stale male 24stereotype that does the image of the Bar no favours. At Caper Court we currently have thirty-two junior counsel, of whom just nine are women. Out of our ten QCs only two are women – myself and Ann Halliday. Someone like Sian Attwood is just what we need. We need to take steps to correct the gender and ethnic imbalance. We certainly don’t need another of Leo’s young male acolytes.’
‘Well, we’re interviewing them both,’ said Lisa.
‘More’s the pity.’ Natalie rose and left the committee room.
‘That was unexpected,’ remarked Leo as he and Anthony went upstairs.
‘I’m surprised you’re not angrier,’ said Anthony. ‘I’d be furious.’ They reached the landing outside Leo’s room, and after hesitating for a moment he asked, ‘There’s no truth in what she said, is there?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Then what is it she’s got against you?’
‘Maybe she made a pass at me once, and I wasn’t in the mood. Who knows?’
‘Not everything is about sex, you know.’
He gave Anthony a smile. ‘I think you’ll find it is.’ He went into his room and closed the door.
As she pulled her car to a jerky stop in Gratton Crescent, Sarah Coleman was in a filthy mood. The country spa break that she and three friends had booked weeks ago had turned into a non-event. They had all set off after work in high spirits the previous evening, Sarah driving, but a pile-up on the M11 had caused an enormous traffic jam, and a journey that should have taken one hour turned 25into four. Then when they eventually reached the spa it turned out that Chloe, who had arranged the break, had made the prepaid booking for the week before in error. After a heated exchange over the spa’s no-refund policy, they’d been forced to check into a nearby Travelodge. The drive back this morning had not been fun, with a lengthy squabble over whether or not they should all be forced to pay for Chloe’s mistake.
She pulled down the sun visor and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She’d slept badly and she looked like shit. She sighed. She would be thirty-five soon, and it showed. She snapped the visor up and glanced towards the house, pondering her current domestic situation. When Leo had suggested last year that she should move in with him, she’d imagined it meant he had ideas of settling down. She’d be only too happy to marry him, to be kept in modest luxury and never have to work again. She’d had enough of slogging away in the City at her job as a senior legal in a shipping insurance firm. Marrying Leo would solve all her problems, and there was no reason why it shouldn’t work. All good relationships were founded on mutual affection and respect, and they had enough of that. As for sex, it was as good now as it had been the first time, if not better. Her spine still tingled when she recalled the extraordinary and instant physical attraction between them on their first encounter years ago, at a dull academic summer garden party at some Oxford college. Ten minutes after meeting they’d left in Leo’s car, headed for his country home and several hours of the most blissfully erotic sex. That afternoon had turned into a whole summer, an unspoken arrangement in which she 26looked after the house while he toiled in London, cooked and lazed around, and made herself generally available to Leo’s whims and desires, with the occasional – and from Sarah’s point of view, tiresome – participation of James, a local boy he’d picked up along the way. The trouble was, that summer had set the template for their relationship – sex without emotional commitment, friendship without loyalty. Besides their enduring mutual attraction, both physical and intellectual, they both possessed strong instincts for self-preservation, and over the years they had been kind and cruel to one another in equal measure, as circumstances required. And therein lay the fundamental flaw. That lack of trust was making it difficult for her to inch him towards marrying her.
She sat in the car for some minutes, weighing up strategies. It looked as though she was going to have to rewrite the rules of engagement, starting with her own behaviour. So far, she’d been careful to maintain the undemanding premise of their relationship, but perhaps now she needed to soften herself, be less emotionally casual, pay greater attention to domestic detail. Maybe she should cook more often in the evenings, even iron his shirts – he still paid three quid a time to have them laundered, which was fine by her, but these small things had a certain significance – steer him into going out together, try subtly to redirect their shared existence and shape it more in terms of a couple. It could be done. She had to give it a try, at any rate. Time was ticking on.
She got out of the car, fetched her overnight bag from the boot, and crossed the road to the house, filled with a new sense of purpose. She would have a long, hot shower, and then consider how best to effect the transformation 27of their relationship in slow, careful steps. Her well-worn fantasy – a wedding, beautiful babies (with their combined good looks, any offspring were bound to be beautiful), and the eventual prospect of becoming Lady Davies, when Leo was appointed a Supreme Court judge – suddenly had a fresher feel to it.
She went upstairs to her room and noticed that the door to Leo’s bedroom was ajar and the room was in darkness. Not like him to leave the curtains drawn. He always, in what she thought was a schoolboyishly sweet way, left his bedroom in pristine condition before he went to work, curtains back, bed made, everything neat and tidy. Setting down her bag, she slipped into the room, went to the window, and drew back the heavy curtains. She turned, and was greeted by the sight of a well-honed male body sprawled naked on the bed, one that wasn’t Leo’s. Sergei roused himself sleepily, blinking against the light. For a long, wordless moment, he and Sarah stared at one another. Without any particular haste, Sergei drew the sheet up and frowned in puzzlement. Was she the housekeeper, or maybe the cleaner?
As she regarded the handsome stranger in Leo’s bed, Sarah felt her fantasies slowly dissolving in the acid of cold reality. She’d spent these last months blithely thinking that Leo was exclusively hers. How could she possibly have imagined that his affairs were a thing of the past? This stranger was probably just one of any number of lovers he’d had since she’d moved in.
‘Hi,’ said Sergei, unsure of the etiquette for this situation. The girl, whoever she was, really didn’t look too pleased to find him here. ‘I’m Sergei.’ 28
Sarah made no reply. She went to her room and shut the door. She sat down on the bed, only vaguely noticing the heap of coats and jackets, feeling numb, trying to process her thoughts and feelings. A few moments later she heard the Sergei person go downstairs. She listened to the sounds of him moving around in the kitchen in an unconcerned and unhurried way. Probably making himself breakfast. And why not? He had every right to be here. As much right as she did. They were both just Leo’s playthings. Feelings of anger and humiliation swept through her. All these months she’d let herself be deceived. What a bloody fool she was. But she had only herself to blame. She’d always known the kind of person Leo was – unscrupulous, hedonistic, letting his desires dictate his behaviour. And their relationship had no rules. So she had no right to feel like a victim.
She sat thinking for a long while, until her anger had ebbed away and she was left facing the stark reality of her position. She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t delude herself any longer. He was never going to change, never going to marry her, or see her as the most important person in his life. The only individual of any importance to Leo was himself. She grabbed a few more clothes and added them to what was already in her overnight bag, together with an extra pair of shoes. She would stay at her father’s flat in Westminster till she’d sorted herself out, turfed out the tenant she’d installed in her flat. Thank God she hadn’t sold it. She would return tomorrow when Leo was at work and collect all the rest of her belongings. She felt a bleak flicker of satisfaction, thinking how startled he’d be to find her gone – gone without explanation. He might even be upset. Though that was probably too much to hope for. 29
When she went downstairs she found Sergei in the hallway, shrugging on his leather jacket. She glanced at him, thinking with detachment how extraordinarily good-looking he was, exactly Leo’s type. They both went to open the front door at the same time, which caused momentary confusion.
‘After you,’ said Sarah, in a tone of mild irony.
‘Please,’ replied Sergei, opening the door with a courteous gesture, ‘after you.’
She crossed the road to her car, slung her bag onto the passenger seat, and got in. Sergei stood on the steps, watching as she drove away, then thrust his hands into his pockets, glancing up and down the road as he waited for his Uber, shivering a little in the chilly spring air.
CHAPTER THREE
The following Saturday morning, Gabrielle called round while Leo was having breakfast. She was dressed in a crop top and leggings, and her dark blonde hair was pulled back in a scruffy ponytail. Her fine-boned face, much like Leo’s, with the same thick, dark brows, was pink with exertion.
‘Thought you might fancy joining me on my run,’ she said, sinking onto a kitchen chair and depositing her phone and headphones on the table. She took a swig of Leo’s orange juice.
‘A kind thought, but I’m playing squash later – that’s enough exercise for one day.’ He glanced at her skimpy running gear. ‘Aren’t you freezing?’
‘I warm up quickly. Besides, it’s quite mild out there.’
‘Have you had breakfast? I can offer you some rather fine toasted Waitrose sourdough.’
‘Go on, then.’ She went to the fridge and poured herself 31a fresh glass of juice while Leo busied himself at the toaster. ‘Who are you playing squash with?’
‘Anthony.’
‘How is he?’
To Leo, the fractional pause before she asked the question spoke volumes. Despite the fact the relationship was long over – and he assuaged his own guilt at the part he had played in that with the thought that it would have ended sooner or later, anyway – she evidently still cared about him.
‘He’s well. Just got back from a holiday in the Caribbean.’ He brought the toast over. ‘There you are. Help yourself to butter and marmalade.’
‘Thanks.’ Gabrielle reached for the butter. ‘Did he go on his own?’
‘No idea.’
Gabrielle took a bite of toast, then observed, ‘It’s very quiet round here. Where’s Sarah?’
‘She’s gone.’
At first, when he’d come home to discover that Sarah had taken all her belongings and disappeared without a word, he’d been perplexed. But over drinks a couple of days later, Sergei had casually mentioned his encounter with her, and Leo had put two and two together. He had no intention of calling her, or apologising. She’d always known the deal. In a way he was sorry, but he knew himself well enough to accept that sooner or later his infidelities brought their own consequences. And that was fine with him. It made for a natural balance.
‘You mean she’s left?’
Leo nodded. Gabrielle sipped her juice. She’d never particularly liked Sarah. ‘Did you have a fight?’ 32
‘Not as such. But I suspect she wants certain things I can’t give her.’
‘Which are?’
‘I think like most women she’s looking for some kind of long-term stability. And that, as you know, is not my speciality.’
‘You think that’s what most women want? Some bloke to look after them and provide for them? Honestly, Leo, you’re an unreconstructed chauvinist. That’s really not what women want, or need, from men any more.’
‘Is that so?’ He smiled and drained his coffee cup. ‘I’m going for a shower. Enjoy your run. Lunch sometime soon?’
She nodded. ‘I’ll text you.’
He dropped a light kiss on her head and left the kitchen.
Gabrielle sat for a few minutes, finishing her toast and thinking about Anthony, and about the way their relationship had ended. Once upon a time she had genuinely believed it had potential. Then the rumour had reached her that he was having some kind of affair out in Singapore, and she’d stopped emailing him, taking the corresponding silence at his end as a sign of his guilt, and that things were over between them. He knew that she knew. It absolved him from doing anything more. They hadn’t spoken since. But here Leo was, playing regular games of squash with him, carrying on their cosy friendship as though the way Anthony had treated her was of no consequence. It suddenly struck her, in a way that it hadn’t before, that for Leo his relationship with Anthony was of paramount importance. Could this have had any bearing on her break-up with Anthony? She 33picked up her phone and headphones, and left the house to carry on with her run and think it through properly.
Leo and Anthony always played their games of squash at the RAC Club in the Mall. Despite being twenty years older, Leo generally gave Anthony a good run for his money, and today was no exception. They played three games, drawing two, with Leo winning the third by just two points.
‘I’ll have you next time,’ said Anthony. ‘How about a swim?’
They changed and made their way out to the swimming pool, an area of art deco opulence in Sicilian marble. In the mid-afternoon quiet the pool lay still and blue, reflecting the magnificence of the surrounding Doric columns and the high coved ceiling.
‘I never get tired of how beautiful this place is,’ remarked Leo. ‘And it may say something about the chip on my shoulder, but it gives me immense satisfaction to know that the Oxford & Cambridge Club can’t hold a candle to this.’
‘Natalie really got to you the other day, didn’t she?’
