A Calculating Heart (15 page)

‘My, you’re a cheeky bastard.’ Sarah eyed him coolly, but his words had perturbed her. No one had ever spoken to her like this. And it had come out of nowhere. She had come back here for coffee, vaguely expecting to have a pass made at her, and instead this guy was sitting here, in his shambolic little flat, conducting a scathing critique of her character.

‘So what hurt you so much that you became like this?’

‘Nothing hurt me, Roger. You really should practice your low-level psychology on someone else.’

‘You mean you’ve never been in love? Everyone who’s been in love has been hurt.’

She was about to make a wry retort, then stopped. Maybe there was something in that. ‘Yes, okay. I had a big crush on someone when I was about seventeen. I thought it was love. But I hardly think it warped my character.’

‘Don’t you? Perhaps not. Tell me about it, anyway.’

Sarah hesitated. Why should she? Then she glanced again at his gentle eyes, large behind his glasses, and decided she would. They talked for over an hour, as the jazz smoked away in the background. Sarah told Roger about her first love, about which she had never told anyone and had never expected to, and then they talked about adolescence, and things that happened, and how long ago it sometimes seemed, and how recent.

‘I sometimes wish I weren’t grown up,’ said Sarah. Roger noticed that her voice had grown softer, reflective. He had
noticed a number of gradual changes about her over the past hour. ‘There are times when I would quite like it all to be the way it was when I was ten, say, and everything was safe and predictable, and nobody expected things of me, and I wasn’t so alone.’

‘You forget what ten was like. It was terrifying. It wasn’t safe and predictable at all. Well, it was from an adult perspective, but it didn’t seem that way then. Forgetting your history homework was such a big damned deal, or not getting picked for the rugby team. Huge, nightmarish issues, blighted little lives.’ He shook his head.

‘Well, I never expected to be picked for the rugby team,’ said Sarah. ‘In fact, I steered clear of teams as much as possible. Maybe that’s why I don’t see my life as a team player in a set of barristers’ chambers.’

‘You don’t have to play it that way at all. I don’t. It can actually be a beautifully solitary, self-contained existence.’

‘Well, I’m glad you like it. I don’t.’

Roger, glanced at his watch. ‘Come on. I’ll ring for a cab. I’ve got to be in the Court of Appeal tomorrow.’

Sarah untucked her legs and slipped on her shoes. ‘Don’t bother. I’ll walk. It’s not far.’ She stood up.

‘I didn’t realise you lived so close. But you can’t walk back alone. I’ll come with you.’ He picked up his jacket from the chair.

‘You really don’t have to. I’m perfectly safe, you know.’

Roger slipped on his jacket. ‘I’d like to.’

They walked much of the way in comfortable silence,
the summer night air still mild around them. When they reached Sarah’s flat, she said, ‘Thanks for the Proms ticket. And the coffee. And the talk.’

‘Think nothing of it. Happy to oblige.’

She looked at him as he stood there on the pavement, tall and rumpled and smiling, and wondered if he would make his move now. But instead he merely raised a hand, said, ‘See you in the morning,’ then turned and walked off down the street.

The following day in court the former master of the
Persephone
, Captain Kollias, took the stand. He was a squat, middle-aged man with beefy features and a heavy moustache. His voice, when he was asked by Leo to confirm his name and address, was thick and guttural.

‘And can you identify this as your sworn statement?’ asked Leo, holding the document up to the court. Captain Kollias nodded and confirmed that it was.

‘And are the contents true, to the best of your belief and knowledge?’

‘Yes.’

Leo sat down, and Ann Halliday rose to her feet and began her cross-examination, taking Captain Kollias through his statement, and through the events of the fateful night two years previously. Captain Kollias confirmed that on 23 September 2002, when the yacht was in harbour at Ventetone, he had been awoken at around 1 a.m. by smoke.
A fire had broken out in the engine room of the yacht. It had taken hold so severely that it was impossible to fight with fire extinguishers. Mr Staveris, the engineer, had similarly been roused by the smoke, and Captain Kollias had ordered the ship be abandoned. Vasillios Fexis, the cabin boy, had died in his cabin.

‘You say in your statement that you did not know that Mr Fexis was on board the yacht that night. Why was this?’

‘He said he was going ashore to visit friends. There was fiesta that weekend. He said he would not be back that night.’ Captain Kollias curled and uncurled his fat fingers.

‘But he did in fact return to the
Persephone
?’

‘Yes.’ Captain Kollias nodded. His face trembled slightly. ‘Yes, he came back, and we did not know.’

‘What I find strange, Captain Kollias, is that you and Mr Staveris were both woken by the smoke from the fire – as you both say in your statements – but Mr Fexis was not. If it had woken you, why would it not wake up Mr Fexis?’

Captain Kollias spread his sausage-like fingers. ‘I do not know. It was a terrible, terrible thing …’ His voice faltered. ‘He was a young boy. Maybe he had too much to drink at the fiesta. If we had known he was on board, we would have—’ Here he broke off.

Ann waited for a few seconds. ‘You would have …?’

Captain Kollias took a deep breath. ‘We would have got him out.’

‘Don’t you think that perhaps you should have made it your duty to search the accommodation area before the fire took hold, just in case?’

Leo rose to his feet. ‘My Lord, I fail to see the relevance of this entirely speculative line of questioning.’

Mr Justice Sagewell nodded. ‘I do not think counsel need make these tragic events the matter of too much surmise. Captain Kollias has already stated that he believed Mr Fexis was ashore. What might have occurred had he assumed otherwise is not within the scope of our enquiry.’

‘Very good, my Lord.’

Captain Kollias’s stolid demeanour had entirely given way, and he sat with his hand covering his face, his large frame visibly heaving with emotion. Ann allowed him a moment or two to collect himself before she pressed on. There was a long discussion of the history of the generator where the fire had occurred, and about its last service prior to the fire two months earlier at Hydra, and Captain Kollias was closely questioned as to the likelihood of the fuel pipe vibrating free. The captain’s manner, as he answered these largely technical questions, regained its assuredness. He was unshakeable on every aspect of the circumstances of the fire, and his diffidence in the matter of the engineer’s forty-a-day smoking habit hit just the right note of plausibility in relation to the possibility that a discarded cigarette might have caused the fire. Leo could tell, glancing at Mr Justice Sagewell’s face from time to time, that the judge found Captain Kollias an impressive witness.

On only one occasion during his cross-examination did Captain Kollias glance in the direction of Adriana Papaposilakis, and since he was answering questions as to
the nature of his relations with his employer at the time – which he maintained were always good, and that he was always paid on time – there seemed nothing odd about this. But in catching this single glance, Leo experienced an instinctive flicker of disquiet, born of long experience. After a couple of seconds, however, he decided that the glance had been merely automatic, not one expressive of mutual reassurance. He hadn’t been able to tell, from his vantage point, whether Adriana had returned it or not. In any event, Captain Kollias’s evidence had not been shaken, and Adriana and her team of lawyers left court that afternoon well satisfied with the day’s proceedings.

After a brief confabulation with Adriana and Rachel outside the courtroom, Leo went off to the robing room to change. On his way out of the law courts, he caught sight of Ann Halliday ahead of him, and caught up with her just as she was about to cross the Strand.

‘We still haven’t had that drink yet,’ observed Leo. ‘I want to get an insight into your real feelings about this case.’

‘Where this case is concerned, I’m beyond feelings. But I’m up for a drink, certainly.’

‘Excellent. Half six?’

‘Fine.’

‘See you later. I need to get to the bank before it closes.’ And he hurried off.

At twenty past six Ann went to the ladies. She combed her hair, then surveyed her features in the mirror. She was glad she’d let Charmaine talk her into having those highlights
done – they did look pretty. She essayed a smile, and peered at the fine lines around her eyes that this produced. Then she relaxed the smile and sighed, and dabbed on a little lipstick. The feeling of expectation which bubbled within her was only theoretically pleasurable. In fact, she hated it. It was instinctive, hormonal or something, and she could do without it. Since her move to 5 Caper Court, Leo had sought out her company on a regular basis – that was fine, but he was motivated by nothing more than pure friendship, the fact that they were like-minded people who enjoyed each other’s company. It had been that way when they were students. The best of mates, nothing more. The trouble was, one couldn’t be around Leo for long without certain primitive impulses rising to the surface. Useless, but unconquerable. Perhaps, raddled old spinster that she was turning into, she should be grateful for this much stimulation. The word was that Leo was seeing Camilla Lawrence, anyway. Ann wondered, as she tucked away her comb and lipstick, what on earth they ever found to talk about. Beyond law or current affairs, she couldn’t sustain a conversation with a member of the opposite sex under the age of thirty for more than two minutes at a time – with the exception of Roger Fry, whose mind was eccentric and ageless. No, the best romantic prospect on the horizon at the moment came in the unlikely shape of Stephen Bishop, whose recent shy attentions had both flattered and alarmed her. He was a pleasant enough man, in a portly, solitary way, but she wasn’t sure she was that desperate.

She went downstairs and found Leo lounging in
reception with a copy of
Lloyd’s List
. He glanced up and gave Ann a heart-stopping smile.

‘Right.’ He chucked the paper aside and stood up. ‘Let’s go. I’d prefer not to drink in the Temple, if you don’t mind. I’ve had enough of my fellow lawyers of late.’

They took a taxi to Mayfair, to a little bar down a side street. While Leo bought the drinks, Ann sat in one of the comfortable, squashy leather armchairs and surveyed the discreetly lit room, the carefully spaced tables and expensive, muted decor. Just the kind of place Leo would know about.

Leo returned with the drinks and sat down. ‘Cheers.’ He sipped his Scotch. Ann noticed the fine lines around his mouth and eyes, the slight slackness of the handsome features. Both of them had reached an age where youth was fading fast. She wondered if it was some fault in her own perception which made it seem as though it mattered less to men, or certainly men such as Leo.

‘Cheers.’ Ann took a sip of her martini. It was deliciously dry. ‘So. Not a bad day for you. Captain Kollias did pretty well.’

Leo nodded. ‘He stuck to his brief. I just wish every witness would. Mind you, this case is going to rest on the technical evidence, as I see it. I reckon you’ve got an uphill struggle ahead of you, trying to show the fire didn’t start accidentally.’

‘Mmm. We’ll have to see, won’t we? Have you read Toulson’s judgment in that scuttling case that was reported just last week? I can’t remember the name offhand.’

‘The
Delphine
? I wouldn’t let that get your hopes up. As I recall, the owner of that particular yacht hadn’t paid his crew in months, he had money problems, a yacht which was just running up costs and which he couldn’t sell, and which was substantially over-insured into the bargain. He had every motive in the world for sending her to the bottom of the ocean. I don’t think my client quite falls into the same category.’

‘No, indeed. Miss Papaposilakis is quite something, isn’t she? I think old Sagewell likes her more than a little.’

Leo smiled. ‘It always helps, doesn’t it?’

They discussed the case in a peripheral fashion for a while, then a brief, companionable silence fell over them both. Ann was feeling quite mellow from the effects of her martini.

‘I like your hair like that,’ said Leo suddenly. ‘Have you done something to it?’ Ann raised a self-conscious hand, but before she could reply, Leo added, ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t ask. But it suits you. I remember you used to have very long hair when we were students.’

‘We all wore our hair long back then, Leo. You included – down to your shoulders, as I recall.’ Ann smiled. ‘I believe I may even have some photographic evidence somewhere.’

‘I beg you, destroy it, please!’

‘Why? You were so good-looking. Half the girls at Bar School were after you.’

‘Really? That’s not the way I remember it.’ Leo drained his Scotch. ‘Though there was that desperate female in our tutorial group who used to send me notes all the time. What
was her name? Very dark, intense creature, with a big nose.’

Ann laughed. ‘Oh, God! Verity! Wasn’t she bizarre? Do you remember when she fell asleep once right in the middle of Worsley’s tutorial on documentary credits, and started to snore?’

‘I don’t blame her. Worsley was intensely boring, to say nothing of transferable letters of credit. Ah, dear Verity. I wonder what became of her? I was always bumming fags off her. Talk about taking advantage of her tender feelings.’

‘It all seems a long time ago now.’

‘We didn’t know the half of it, did we? I kidded myself I was working hard, but I suspect I spent far too much time drinking and listening to Led Zeppelin. How I wish I still had the same capacity for frivolity.’

‘I don’t remember you being especially frivolous, Leo. In fact, I used to think you were sometimes a bit too intense. Always sitting around in the common room having meaningful discussions about life and the universe. I remember on one occasion you became very passionate on the subject of whether or not Wittgenstein was a religious person.’

‘Did I now? What a memory you have.’ Leo swirled the ice in his empty glass. ‘I still think it’s a very interesting question. Wittgenstein himself always said he wasn’t, but I reckon he had a twin-track approach to God. He didn’t think the existence of God could be proved, but then again, I don’t think he felt it was necessary. He had this very robust approach to faith. None of your delicate ratiocination for old Wittgenstein.’

‘“Is what I am doing really worth the labour? Surely only if it receives a light from above.”’

Leo stared at her, nodding. ‘I’m amazed you know that quote.’

‘Why?’

‘Sorry. That sounded rude. I was just surprised. It exactly sums up what I mean. His belief in some kind of external inspiration. I’m sure it’s common to most great thinkers. All great minds seem to believe there’s a greater mind pushing them from behind.’

Ann pondered this for a few seconds. ‘You mean you think Galileo was able to face up to the Pope and the Church, because he was convinced of some external guidance in his exploration of the solar system?’

‘Precisely. Or take Newton’s religious faith.’

‘Or Einstein’s in restructuring the Newtonian universe.’

Leo smiled. ‘Would you like another drink before we get on to Darwin?’

Ann returned the smile. ‘Or David Hume? I think I would.’

Half an hour later, Leo roused himself from the depths of their conversation to look at his watch. ‘D’you know, I suggest we carry this discussion on over dinner. What do you say?’

And Ann agreed. Leo thought about calling Camilla to tell her he would be late, but decided it wasn’t necessary. It was just dinner with an old friend, after all.

By the end of the week, Ann had finished her cross-examination of the witnesses of fact, and apart from a brief verbal tussle
with the over-excitable Mr Staveris concerning his smoking habits, nothing of any great moment occurred. The next stage of the case would involve the lengthy consideration of the evidence of the expert witnesses on both sides, and since this consisted of long and detailed reports and supplementary reports by marine surveyors, metallurgists, fire experts, and two naval architects with special expertise in ship vibration, it was estimated that the case would last some weeks yet.

‘I anticipate a certain exasperation on the part of our learnt judge,’ remarked Leo, while discussing the case with Anthony at the end of the first week. ‘There’s a repetitive, long-winded element about some of the reports, and Sagewell’s not known as the most patient of men.’

‘Can’t you get the experts together to refine their arguments and get rid of tiresome points?’

‘I think we’re going to have to. I’ll have a word with Rachel about it.’ Leo swivelled thoughtfully in his chair.

‘How is Rachel?’

‘Fine.’ Leo gave Anthony a glance. ‘Why do you ask?’

Anthony shrugged, and took a few slow paces round the room. ‘Just wondered.’

‘Well, at any rate, she’s doing a sterling job keeping Adriana Papaposilakis off my back. If there’s one thing I can do without, it’s a client who wants to run the case herself.’

Anthony glanced at his watch. ‘Time I got some work done. See you later.’