A Hallowed Place (11 page)

‘No,’ said Joshua.

Something tight within Leo loosened with relief. ‘I had to know why you left the way you did. Last night …’

Joshua swallowed and looked away, turning his head, gazing distractedly at the chattering customers. The way the light caught the skin of his throat, throwing the sinews into soft relief, made Leo’s heart turn over.

‘I can’t talk about it here.’

‘After work?’

Joshua didn’t look at Leo. His expression was uncertain, almost unhappy. At last he nodded and said, ‘All right.’

Leo finished what was left of his drink and left. Joshua stood by the bar for an uncertain moment. Maybe he should just try to get off early, not be there when Leo came back. But something told him that there would be no point in that, and that, if not tonight, Leo would be back another time.

For over an hour, Leo simply walked the streets. He hadn’t eaten since lunch time, but seeing Joshua again had taken away any appetite he might have had. He couldn’t face the idea of sitting in a pub or a wine bar, of being with people. He was filled with restlessness and a sense of apprehension.
Never in his life could he recall being so deeply, so painfully affected by another individual. He didn’t even
know
the boy, for God’s sake. They had had two conversations, Joshua had come back to his flat and they had kissed. That was the sum of it. At forty-five, Leo had long assumed himself to be above and beyond the kind of infatuation which seemed now to possess him, suffocating him. He walked and walked, thinking, counting the minutes until he could look upon Joshua again.

‘Take the keys,’ said Leo. They were sitting in the car outside Leo’s flat. ‘I’ve got a spare set. I want to put the car away. You go on up. It’s number two, on the first floor. Help yourself to a beer. They’re in the fridge.’

Joshua took the keys and unlocked the front door to the block of flats. He paused in the hush of the carpeted hallway and caught sight of his reflection in an oval gilt mirror. Christ, if one of the other residents came out now, they’d think he’d come to burgle the place. He went upstairs to Leo’s flat and let himself in, fumbling for a light switch. He felt a little rush of pleasure at seeing the interior of the flat again. He really liked this place. In the fridge Joshua found a six-pack of Budweiser. There hadn’t been any beers there the other night. Leo wasn’t a beer drinker, Joshua could tell. So had he got this lot in on the assumption that he’d get Joshua back here again? Joshua decided he didn’t care. He took one of the beers and went through to the drawing room. He stood in the darkness by one of the long windows overlooking the street and gazed down, watching Leo walk up to the flat. He heard the front door open and close, then
Leo’s feet on the stairs. Leo always moved quickly, nimbly; that was something Joshua had noticed already.

Leo let himself in and came up the hallway, then stopped at the doorway of the drawing room. He saw Joshua standing by the window, silhouetted in the glow from the street light outside.

‘All alone in the dark,’ said Leo.

‘I was looking at the street,’ said Joshua. ‘It’s so quiet. Where I live, it never stops, twenty-four hours a day. Restaurants, bars, music, people up and down the stairs all night. And the traffic. Then just when it goes a bit quiet, you get the bin lorries coming round about two in the morning. But here - it’s so still. Civilised.’

Leo came across the room. He didn’t switch on the light. ‘You found a beer, I see.’

Joshua turned to look at him. Leo’s face and hair were etched silver by the street light. ‘You got them in just for me, didn’t you?’

‘Perhaps I happen to like beer,’ replied Leo.

‘Perhaps you do.’ Joshua took a swig from the can. ‘Then again, perhaps you hoped I’d come back here.’

‘You’re right. I did,’ said Leo. ‘I hoped it very much. But I wasn’t sure, after the way you left last night.’

Joshua turned to look out at the street again. ‘If you want to know why I left, I’ll tell you.’ He hesitated for several seconds, as though trying to find words, then went on, ‘You know a bit about me. I can tell you do. You know I make a bit on the side going with blokes. I do it for the money, that’s all.’ Joshua was speaking rapidly. With his free hand he reached out and began to fiddle with a silken
curtain tassel. ‘The thing is, the more you do it, the easier it gets. That’s not to say I ever liked it. I just tried not to think about it, really. But last night, I liked it when you touched me.’ He turned to look candidly at Leo. ‘Whatever happened was because I wanted it to.’

‘And that worries you?’

‘Yes. Well, no, not really … Look, to be honest, when you picked me up last night, I thought we would just come here, do the business, and that would be it. But then things got confusing …’ He raked his fingers through his hair. ‘I can’t really explain it …’

Leo thought for a long moment before he spoke. ‘Joshua, do you feel safe? Here, with me?’

‘Safe?’ Joshua echoed the question as he tested his feelings. Yes, he did feel safe. He felt reassured by Leo, by this place, by all the things around him. He suddenly thought that he would rather be here, in this flat, than anywhere else he could think of. He nodded. ‘Yeah.’

‘Then don’t worry. Just stay and everything will be all right. I promise.’

Joshua said nothing. He liked the idea, the knowledge, that Leo was the kind of man who kept his promises.

Sarah was waiting for Leo in the clerks’ room when he hurried in at a quarter to ten the following morning. ‘You’re cutting it fine,’ she remarked.

‘Thank you. I am aware of it. Hold these.’ He thrust some papers at her and went to have a hurried conversation with Henry before heading out of chambers at a brisk walk, Sarah in his wake.

Henry glanced after them and remarked to Felicity, ‘She’s very free in the way she talks to him, for a pupil.’

‘Yeah, I’ve noticed that.’ Felicity looked up from the computer screen and glanced at her untasted cup of coffee. She felt hellish this morning. Even the smell of coffee nauseated her.

‘Maybe they’re having a little fling,’ said Henry thoughtfully.

Felicity leant back in her chair. ‘Henry,’ she sighed, ‘I don’t think girls are quite Mr Davies’ type.’

Henry’s jaw slackened. He turned to look at Felicity with such transparent astonishment that Felicity gave a little snort of laughter. There was something so dopey and sweet about Henry, sometimes.

‘You never mean that!’

‘What? That he’s gay? Course I do. Hadn’t you noticed?’

Henry said nothing. He stood thinking for a few seconds, then went back to sorting through the briefs in front of him. It was wrong in these days of tolerance and liberalism to feel disappointed, but somehow, after all the years he’d known Mr Davies, he couldn’t help it.

Sarah tried to match Leo’s pace as they crossed Fleet Street to the Law Courts. ‘It must have been a particularly good night, to make you late for court,’ she remarked. ‘As I recall, you used to be quite scrupulous about not letting your private life interfere with work.’

‘I got held up in the traffic,’ replied Leo shortly. As they passed through security, he suddenly stopped and put his hand to the breast pocket of his jacket. ‘Blast and bugger it!’

‘What’s the matter?’ said Sarah.

‘I’ve left my reading glasses in chambers. Look, give me these.’ He took the papers Sarah was carrying. ‘And run back to chambers for me. If they’re not on my desk, they’ll be in the top right-hand drawer. I’ll see you in court.’

‘Which one? I don’t know which court we’re in.’

‘Look on the lists!’ called Leo over his shoulder, as he trotted up the stairs to the robing room.

The morning had not started auspiciously, thought Leo,
as he adjusted his bands and slipped on his wig. Because of Joshua he had overslept, and the face that stared back at him from the robing room mirror was drawn and tired. He felt none of the euphoria and pleasure that usually came with the start of a love affair. Everything was too precarious. Looking down at Joshua sleeping in his bed, one arm thrown back, skin smooth and supple, his hair burnished and tangled, he had been acutely aware of the discrepancy in their ages. Three or four years ago he had thought of himself as still a relatively young man, but these days he felt distinctly middle-aged. He seemed to have acquired from nowhere the paraphernalia of reading glasses, stiff limbs, and an ex-wife and child. It was quite astonishing. Still, there was always the compensation of knowing that one’s capacity for love remained, fresh and ageless. One could fall in love just as easily at forty-five as at twenty-five, and that, he now knew, his heart soaring at the recollection of Joshua, was what he had most certainly done. Leo picked up his papers and headed for the court room, hoping that Sarah would get a move on.

The morning continued badly. Sarah hadn’t been able to find his glasses and Leo could only assume he must have left them at home. It meant he had to peer at the papers, and this made him feel awkward and interrupted the flow of his case. Added to which, they were before Mr Justice Dent, an irascible and pompous man whom Leo had long disliked, and who seemed determined that morning to pick holes in Leo’s case.

‘Mr Davies, you are not suggesting, are you, that an
average adjustment is binding upon the cargo owners? I’m sure I need hardly remind you of the dictum of Lord Diplock in
Castle Insurance v Hong Kong Shipping
. The cargo owners are perfectly free to dispute the quantum of any contribution or claim attributed to their consignment by the average statement.’

‘With respect, my Lord, I would submit that that is the position only in cases where there is no agreement to the contrary. In this case, it is my clients’ contention that there was an agreement.’

‘Well, Mr Davies, I can see no evidence of such agreement …’ Mr Justice Dent began to sift through the papers as though to make his point, still talking. Endeavouring to listen patiently, Leo recalled with a sudden, irrelevant jolt that Joshua still had the spare set of keys to the flat. His mind ran quickly over the implications. In one sense it was good. It meant that Joshua might feel free to come and go, that he might still be there this evening. On the other hand, what did he know of the boy? He worked as a waiter, was a part-time prostitute and, for all Leo knew, he could get home this evening and find the place cleaned out. He doubted it, but it brought home to him the realisation that this affair with Joshua was fraught with uncertainties. ‘… And I’m afraid I must agree with Mr Glyn-Jones that one would normally expect such an agreement to be spelt out, as in the case of
Tharsis Sulphur & Copper Company v Loftus
, Mr Davies.’

With an effort, Leo dragged his attention back to what Dent was saying.
Tharsis Sulphur & Copper Company?
He wished this old bastard didn’t have quite so much case law
at his fingertips. One sometimes had the impression that he was expressly determined to make the case for the other side.

‘Quite so, my Lord …’ Leo hesitated, trying to free his mind from thoughts of Joshua. There was a pause of several seconds, then he managed to find his way back to his argument. ‘In this case, however, my Lord, I would submit that although there is no express agreement that the adjustment was to be binding, when the policy is considered in context, that is its clear effect.’ He glanced up at Dent, who was surveying Leo with an expression of sour disfavour. Right, thought Leo, hitching his gown a little on his shoulders. Prepare to be convinced. He gave a sudden, dazzling smile, which had the effect of quite disconcerting Mr Justice Dent, and continued, ‘Allow me to summarise my submissions as follows …’

Sitting next to Leo, Sarah stifled a yawn and decided that she needn’t take any notes. Leo appeared to know what he was doing. Instead, she let her mind wander to the matter of Anthony. It was most convenient that Camilla was going to be in Bermuda for a few weeks. That gave her ample time to put her little plan into action. As a mere idle amusement, it would be enjoyable to test the strength of Anthony’s commitment to Camilla. Besides, she had no current lover and Anthony, as she recalled, was more than very good in bed. It was really a means of killing several birds with one stone. By destroying the perfect relationship between Anthony and Camilla, she would pay him back very nicely for having been crass enough to dump her once, and Camilla for having had the gall, two days ago, to ask her
to fetch some books from the library. She might be merely a pupil, but Sarah didn’t see why she had to take orders from someone like Camilla, who had been her inferior at Oxford in almost every way that Sarah could think of, except perhaps intellectually. And there was the additional pleasure, if things worked out, of having Anthony in her bed for a pleasant while. The whole exercise was something of a challenge. She had nothing to lose …

Suddenly Sarah became aware of Leo’s fingers gently snapping in the direction of the books which lay in front of her. God, he must be referring to one of the authorities in his argument, and she hadn’t a clue which one. Her face pinkening, she fumbled among the volumes, until Leo, murmuring ‘Excuse me,’ to Mr Justice Dent, leant over and picked up one of the Chancery volumes and opened it where it was marked. Sarah noticed that he held it some distance from his eyes, then slowly drew it closer to focus before reading aloud from the pages. She smiled despite her own previous momentary embarrassment. There was something funny about seeing Leo, the brilliant advocate, the sexual conqueror, at a loss without his reading glasses.

By lunch time, Leo was weary of the battle. He could tell that Dent wasn’t going to accept his argument that a payment made on account couldn’t subsequently be reclaimed if it were shown that nothing in fact was due. Well, he hardly blamed him. He didn’t think much of it himself. He let out a long sigh as he and Sarah walked the echoing flagged corridors from the court room.

Sarah glanced up at him. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t find the
right volume. I’m afraid I wasn’t really concentrating.’

Leo was mildly surprised that Sarah should demean herself so far as to offer an apology for anything. ‘Forget it,’ he murmured and stopped outside the robing room. ‘Look, I’ve got a few phone calls to make in chambers. Would you mind picking me up some sandwiches and coffee, and bringing them to my room?’

‘Okay.’ Sarah left him and walked thoughtfully to the women’s robing room to take off her wig and gown. Something strange had occurred in the court room that morning. For the first time since she had known him, Sarah saw Leo in a new light. The quality of her feelings escaped her. They were beyond definition. It had to do with something small and simple, like the way Leo had difficulty in making out the words on the page. Maybe it was just pity. Poor old Leo. Still, it came to everyone, even the Leo Davies of this world. You couldn’t stay young for ever. Alone in the robing room, Sarah looked into the mirror and smiled at her reflection.

‘I know I’ve left it late,’ said Leo. He had rung Rachel at work to discuss seeing Oliver that weekend. ‘But if you didn’t have anything special planned, I can’t see what difference it makes. I’d really like to see him.’

‘What were you thinking of doing?’ asked Rachel dubiously. She knew it was wrong of her, but somehow, since their conversation in the pub, she didn’t really like the idea of Oliver being away from her for a day, even with Leo.

‘I don’t know.’ Leo hadn’t given it proper thought. ‘I
might take him to Stanton. I haven’t been there in a while.’ This was the village not far from Oxford where Leo had a house, a beautiful old place in secluded grounds. He had owned it when Rachel first met him, and she felt a sudden pang at the memories she had of it. I was happy there, once, thought Rachel suddenly. It seemed odd, to think of Leo and Oliver there without her. An incomplete unit.

‘I suppose I can’t really say no,’ she sighed.

‘Why would you want to?’ asked Leo abruptly.

‘He’s still so little, Leo …’

‘Christ, Rachel, it’s only for a day.’ Leo passed a hand over his brow. A heavy morning in court after the late night before had given him a headache. Maybe Felicity had some Nurofen. ‘How else am I supposed to spend time with him? I can’t exactly come to Bath and make up a happy
menage a trois
with you and Charles, can I?’

‘Don’t get so angry about it! I said you can see him. I was just explaining how I feel.’

‘He’s my son, too. I want to see him regularly. And if you won’t—’

‘Leo, stop it! I’m not going into that argument again! You can come down and pick him up on Sunday. I’ll have everything ready. About ten.’

‘Fine,’ said Leo and hung up.

He sat with his face in his hands. It was the one area in his life where he felt defenceless. Oliver was something he could not shrug off. Not the way he had shrugged off Rachel. It was going to be an uphill battle to gain the kind of access to him that he wanted.

Sarah knocked lightly on the door and came in.

Leo looked up. ‘Good girl,’ he said, as she put down some sandwiches and a Styrofoam cup of coffee. ‘God, what a day. One damn thing after another.’ He saw that Sarah still had her coffee and sandwiches in her hand, about to take them back to her own room. ‘Stay, if you like,’ said Leo. He had a sudden wish for company. Sarah, for all her devious, designing ways, and for all the danger implicit in the fact that she probably knew him better than anyone, was at least someone with whom he could relax.

‘All right,’ said Sarah. She sat down opposite Leo, and popped the lid of her coffee and took a sip. ‘What’s up - apart from this morning, I mean?’

‘I have just been speaking to my dear, soon-to-be-ex wife,’ said Leo. ‘We are currently having a little wrangle over the amount of time I can spend with Oliver, our son.’

‘Right,’ said Sarah, not evincing much interest. She had never been able to understand how someone like Leo could get caught up in a mundane domestic situation. She had thought him above such average considerations. She remembered meeting Rachel at a party once and thinking she looked frigid. Had she been jealous of Rachel? Yes, possibly. There had been something galling in the fact that Rachel had, it seemed, managed to ground a free spirit such as Leo. Not that she, Sarah, had any intention of marrying anyone, ever, or doing anything as boring as having children.

She watched Leo open his sandwiches. ‘I remembered you liked avocado and bacon.’

Leo laughed, in spite of his headache and his wretched morning. ‘You used to make them for me at the house in Stanton.’

‘Yes,’ said Sarah. ‘Afterwards.’ It was true. She looked at Leo now, without embarrassment, and remembered all the times she’d had sex with him, wonderful and occasionally strange sex, and then making sandwiches afterwards. There had been James, too, of course. That had been a long, hot summer … What had happened to the Leo of those days?

‘Mmm. Afterwards.’ Leo gave Sarah a thoughtful glance and took a bite of his sandwich. They ate in companionable silence for a while, then Leo asked, ‘What are you thinking about?’

Sarah sipped at her coffee. ‘I was wondering why you ever got married.’

He stared at her for a few seconds. There was no point in dissembling where Sarah was concerned. And it would be a relief to tell someone the truth. ‘If you really want to know, I got married as a means of advancement,’ said Leo. ‘Simple as that. You remember the business with James and the reporter from the
Sun
, all that stuff, don’t you?’ Sarah nodded. ‘My entire private life seemed to be blowing up in my face just as I was on the point of taking silk. I thought I had to convince the powers-that-be that I was a nice, normal boy, just the kind of chap they wanted as a QC.’