A Calculating Heart (18 page)

‘Have I missed much?’ she asked in a low voice.

‘Nothing to speak of,’ murmured Leo.

Mr Justice Sagewell shot them a quelling glance, and then addressed Leo’s junior counsel. ‘Miss Carpenter, I believe you were guiding us through Mr Fellowes’ report? Shall we resume?’

As Kate Carpenter rose to her feet, Adriana whispered
to Leo, ‘I’m only staying for an hour. Perhaps we can meet this evening for a drink to discuss how things are going.’ She slipped into a seat behind him.

Since Mr Defereras, Adriana’s PA, had sat in quiet watchfulness throughout every hour of every day of the proceedings, and would have reported everything of note to her, Leo was well aware that the need to discuss the progress of the case was the most spurious of excuses. Although he had so far elegantly side-stepped the delectable Adriana’s subtle attempts to engineer meetings alone with him, it was getting to the point where another evasion would appear like downright rudeness. He sighed, and made an effort to concentrate as Kate Carpenter questioned the fire expert on the potential ignition point of escaping diesel fuel.

‘So, if the pipe had been only partly loosened initially, the release of diesel fuel would have been in the form of a jet, or spray? A kind of atomised mist?’

‘Correct. In my experience, such a release can readily be ignited by, for example, a hot surface or an electrical spark, and a fire would develop very rapidly.’

Leo jotted down notes automatically, but a faint drift of perfume clinging to the air kept his thoughts fixed on Adriana. Why shouldn’t he have a drink with the woman? She might even cheer him up. He and Camilla hadn’t parted on a particularly satisfactory note this morning. He had happened to mention the Treeves’ invitation in passing at dinner last night, assuming she might quite like the idea of dressing up and spending
an evening with him in opulent surroundings. But to his surprise she had greeted the prospect with mild indifference, which, on gentle probing, had turned into outright hostility. She had then remarked that on the one occasion when they’d had dinner with friends of his, she hadn’t enjoyed herself at all. It had been boring, she’d said, talking to middle-aged people about
middle-aged
things for hours on end. When Leo had pointed out that she managed to talk perfectly well to him, she had said it wasn’t the same thing at all and he knew it. So, he’d asked, why hadn’t she said at the time that she’d been bored? Because she’d hoped it was a one off, and that she wasn’t going to have to spend entire evenings with geriatrics on a regular basis.

Leo had never heard her in this vein before. It was a marked contrast to her customary pliancy. Perhaps he’d been wrong in assuming that her natural reserve betokened maturity. She was, after all, only twenty-two. A further gentle enquiry as to whether that meant she didn’t want to go to the Treeves’ only produced a sulky shrug. Leo had left it at that, and gone on to talk of other things, but the incident had, for some reason, affected the mood of the entire evening. Whatever equilibrium their relationship normally possessed had been disturbed, and when he tried to restore it later in bed, she’d managed to sidetrack the proceedings with a contrite little reference to the Treeves’ party, which had somehow turned into another disagreeable exchange, very close to a row. So much so, that Leo was quite put off his sexual stride,
and abandoned any thoughts of lovemaking.

Now she was en route to Bermuda, and Leo had to admit he was mildly relieved. He could do without the arduous business of having to cope with youthful petulance, for a couple of weeks at any rate. He just hoped that last night wouldn’t prove to be symptomatic of a growing tendency. A couple of hours of Adriana’s sophisticated and mildly provocative company might provide a welcome contrast.

Roger caught up with Sarah as she was leaving chambers at lunchtime.

‘Look,’ he said, pushing his glasses a little way up the bridge of his nose, ‘about last night—’

Oh no, thought Sarah – here we go, a post-mortem about nothing at all. ‘What about it?’ She carried on walking, Roger falling into step beside her.

‘I shouldn’t just have gone off like that. It was a bit rude.’

‘No, it wasn’t.’ She gave him a bemused smile. ‘Look, Roger, if you’re going to let it get to you, perhaps it might be an idea if we kept this friendship platonic.’

‘No.’ His voice was abrupt. He stopped, and she did too. He touched her arm. Looking at his face, remembering his kiss, she felt an instantaneous desire, a response which she tried to ignore. ‘I’d like to see you this evening.’

‘All right,’ she said at last.

‘I’ll make us supper.’

‘You will?’ Recalling the inside of Roger’s fridge, this seemed an unlikely scenario.

‘Yes.’

She smiled and shrugged. ‘What time?’

‘Come round about eight.’

‘Okay. See you later.’ She walked off, hoping he hadn’t got the idea that anything more was going to happen. If he had, he was quite wrong. In which case, she should probably just have said no. But she liked being with him, she really enjoyed talking to him. They had a good time together. He was just going to have to accept the fact that it wasn’t going to go any further than that.

Adriana, having left the hearing around eleven, returned shortly before the close of proceedings that afternoon, and buttonholed Leo just as he was putting his papers together.

Rachel, standing a few yards away, watched as Adriana chatted to Leo in somewhat closer proximity than was entirely necessary. Clearly Adriana hadn’t given up where Leo was concerned. Or perhaps she’d made some headway that Rachel didn’t know about. He might have some ongoing relationship with that girl in his chambers, but since when had such considerations ever stopped Leo in the past? Rachel glanced away, wishing she didn’t have to care so much what Leo did or with whom he did it. She had been conscious of irritable frustration over the past few weeks, and reluctantly had to admit that it was to do with the fact that Anthony hadn’t been near her since their last encounter. Charles had come and gone,
was back in the States with his film crew, and Rachel’s only wish was that Anthony would ring. She didn’t look beyond that event. All she wanted was to know that he still felt the same way about her. That need had filled her, consumed her, over the past fortnight. So why was she getting wound up about Leo and the stupid Greek woman? Habit, that was all. Maybe most ex-wives felt the same way.

When Adriana eventually left the courtroom with Mr Defereras, Rachel came over to Leo.

‘Does our client have some concerns that she’s not sharing with me?’

‘I wouldn’t call them concerns, exactly,’ replied Leo. ‘She wants to have another in-depth discussion about the case over a drink at her hotel.’

‘And you’re going?’

Leo gave her one of his infuriatingly deadpan smiles. ‘It’s a job. Someone has to do it.’

‘Do you want me to come along?’

‘No need. You get back to Charles and Oliver.’

‘Charles is in the States.’

‘Oliver, then.’ Leo picked up his papers. They regarded one another. ‘Don’t concern yourself, Rachel. This is not your problem.’

‘The
Persephone
is as much my case as yours.’

‘I don’t think the case is what we’re talking about, do you?’

Rachel paused, then said bitterly, ‘You know, I really feel sorry for that poor, deluded girl you’re seeing.’

Leo met her gaze. ‘When, Rachel, will you learn to stay out of my affairs?’

‘What an ironically appropriate choice of words.’ Rachel picked up her briefcase and left before Leo could say anything more.

Leo stood in the empty courtroom, closing his eyes for a few seconds as he fought back his irritation. Then he gathered up his papers and went to the robing room to change. Were it not for Oliver, he could heartily wish that Rachel had gone to the States with Charles. The woman seemed to think she had a duty to act as his conscience, turning her chilly, reproachful eye on everything he did. The fact was, he had no intention of having anything other than a sociable drink with Adriana Papaposilakis.

Leo turned up at Adriana’s hotel at half past seven and made his way up to her suite. She opened the door, still clad in the same dress she had been wearing that day, and greeted him with a smile.

‘Come in. You’re very punctual. I like that in my lawyers.’

Leo glanced round the suite, taking in the size of the place and the opulence of its furnishings, and reckoned it must be the most expensive in the hotel. How many sofas and tables and vases of flowers did one small shipping magnate need, in heaven’s name?

He noticed sheaves of papers relating to the case spread out on a low table, giving every appearance that
she had asked him here to discuss the case.

‘A drink?’ Adriana was poised over a small array of bottles and glasses which stood on a small table. No minibars for Miss Papaposilakis, thought Leo.

‘I’ll have a Scotch, thanks. Just a small one.’

She poured his Scotch, mixed herself a gin and tonic, and brought the drinks over. They sat down on one of the sofas next to the table with the papers on it, maintaining a discreet distance. The context reminded Leo of a Sixties movie. Come to think of it, Adriana even had a Zsa Zsa Gabor quality about her, the way she crossed her shapely little legs and smiled at him over the rim of her drink.

‘Cheers,’ said Leo.

Adriana raised her glass, took a sip, and, to Leo’s surprise, launched without further social preamble into the business of the case. For three-quarters of an hour they dwelt on matters of ship vibration and stress fractures, about which Adriana displayed exhaustive knowledge, until at last Leo was moved to remark, ‘You know, I rarely say this to a client, but I think perhaps you’re worrying too much about the detail.’

She put down the papers. ‘It’s habit where business is concerned. I like to be in control of everything.’

‘It’s only a yacht. You said yourself that you replaced it a year ago. Why invest so much of your personal time and energy in one insurance claim? Leave it to the lawyers. It’s what you pay me for.’

‘It’s because I pay attention to detail that I’m so successful, Leo. That’s why I’m a wealthy woman. Anyway,
there is a principle at stake here. And a boy died.’ A brief silence fell, and then she said, ‘Let’s not talk about the case any more. I am sure you have had enough of it for one day.’ Leo felt he couldn’t argue with that. ‘Would you like another drink?’

‘Let me do that,’ said Leo. He took her glass, and went to mix them both another drink. Adriana observed him from the sofa with a meditative smile. He was so delicious, and he had maintained such a tantalising reserve these past weeks.

She liked to think that was professional discretion, but you never knew with English men – so full of inhibitions. Still, if that scandalous newspaper story about him contained a grain of truth, she suspected Leo didn’t have many of those.

Leo sat down again, handing Adriana her drink. She stirred it coquettishly with one finger. ‘You know I hired you because of your reputation, don’t you?’ she asked.

Leo balked at the word ‘hired’, but let it pass. ‘I hope I’ve lived up to it,’ he replied, wondering where this was going.

‘Oh, I don’t mean your professional reputation.’ Adriana smiled. ‘I hired you because I was very intrigued by that story the newspaper ran about you.’ Leo decided to say nothing to this. He sipped his drink. ‘Tell me,’ Adriana went on, ‘did it do a great deal of harm?’

‘Since it was entirely fabricated, I like to think it didn’t, no.’

The truth was Leo had no idea what kind of fallout
there had been. Possibly it was too early to tell. Work seemed steady, no one had taken their cases away, though in the immediate aftermath of the newspaper story he had detected a certain embarrassed unease in the demeanour of some clients. Which was perhaps understandable. Henry had been prepared for the worst, but even he now seemed fairly phlegmatic. Leo sipped his Scotch and added, ‘Since the story didn’t exactly portray me in the most attractive light, I can’t see why it would provide you with an incentive to instruct me.’

Adriana smiled. ‘I believe you are being deliberately naive, Leo.’ Her dark, soft eyes met his, and he wondered whether she was about to make her move. He still hadn’t made up his mind as to what he was going to do if and when she did. But after a few seconds Adriana simply gave a little sigh and said, ‘It must have been very hard for your family, though, to have such wicked lies spread about you.’ She settled back against the sofa cushions, even further away from him. ‘You know, I only found out recently that you and Rachel were once married. I had no idea. It must be unusual to have your ex-wife instructing you in cases.’

‘It has its advantages and disadvantages.’

‘She’s a very beautiful girl.’

‘Of a kind.’ Whatever his feelings about Rachel, he wasn’t going to give anything away to Adriana Papaposilakis.

‘You have a little boy, haven’t you? Tell me about him.’

Leo, bemused by her subtle change of tack, talked willingly about Oliver for a while. He found himself
telling Adriana about the unsatisfactory nature of the arrangements when Oliver came to stay, how he had only the garden square in Belgravia to play in, and about his plans to buy a house which Oliver could regard as a proper home.

She nodded. ‘You are right. It is so important, a proper home.’

‘And where do you call home?’ asked Leo.

‘That is hard to say. I have too many homes, I suppose. Or too many houses. One in Marbella, on an estate which my father left me. And a chateau near Cannes, but I’m selling that – I think that Madonna woman is interested in it. And I have a duplex in the Olympic Tower in Manhattan, which I adore. It has a huge swimming pool - and all that way up in the air! But I suppose Greece is my real home. I have a lovely house just outside Athens. Unfortunately, I don’t spend enough time there. Work keeps me too busy. In fact, I am in London on business so much these days that I have been thinking of buying a house here. I don’t like these hotels. They are too impersonal.’ She gave a little yawn and settled herself even further against the cushions. ‘Yes, I think a house in England would be nice.’