A Hallowed Place (25 page)

As he poured out an unsteady measure the phone began to ring. Leo picked it up and said hello. He listened to the silence. Then he clicked the phone off and put it back on the handset. He stood, nursing his drink, staring at the phone. When it rang again, he picked it up and this time said nothing. And listened to nothing. He curbed his urge to shout and swear at whoever was at the other end, at whoever had come into his mind and his life with such violent stealth that evening, and put the phone down once more. He switched on the answer phone, finished his whisky and went to bed. There he fell into a sweating and unpleasant sleep, one from which he half woke several times in the night, to hear the insistent beep beep of the phone, before the machine clicked on to record the black silence at the other end.

Leo left chambers just before lunch time on Friday. ‘I’ll be at home for the next few hours,’ he told Felicity. ‘If it’s anything urgent you can reach me there.’

‘All right, Mr Davies. By the way, I had Bernard Pannick’s clerk on a few minutes ago, wanting to know about your skeleton argument in that ship finance case. I said I hadn’t seen it being typed up.’ Felicity’s manner was tentative. She didn’t like having to chase Leo up on cases. He was usually on top of everything, but recently she’d had to do it more and more. ‘The hearing’s on Monday.’

Leo let out a sigh of exasperation. ‘Yes, Felicity, I know when the bloody—’ He stopped. No point in taking it out on Felicity. He could only blame himself for forgetting to do the damn thing. He’d meant to do it two weeks ago, but had kept putting it off. Still, he could put something together later in the afternoon and still get it in on time. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said pacifically. ‘I’ll get it sorted out.’

‘Okay.’ Felicity lowered her voice slightly. ‘By the way, I was wondering if I could have a word with you, when you’ve got a free moment. It’s something personal.’ A nervous lump rose in her throat. She’d been letting the days go by, saying nothing to the members of chambers about her pregnancy, but she would have to do it soon. Leo seemed to be the most approachable; she knew him best, even if his manner with her did blow hot and cold at times.

Leo was not so bound up in his own affairs that he couldn’t see, from the expression in Felicity’s eyes, that this ‘something’, whatever it was, was important to her. He glanced at his watch. It was only ten to one. Plenty of time to get home and tidy the place up. ‘What about now? We can go into the waiting room.’

They went in and Leo closed the door. Felicity sat down on the edge of one of the armchairs, while he leant against a bookcase and folded his arms, waiting for her to begin.

‘The thing is, Mr Davies, I’m going to have to leave chambers in a few months. Probably for good. I’m going to have a baby.’

There was a pause, then Leo smiled and said, ‘Congratulations.’ Seeing her face, he added, ‘No need to look so glum about it. It has its up sides.’

Felicity looked up at Leo. He could be a right bastard sometimes, when things weren’t going right, and lately he’d been a complete misery, but when he smiled that smile of his and looked at you with those eyes - a hard blue sometimes, but not at the moment - she liked him best out of the whole bunch. She felt tears brimming up.

‘I know. I mean—’ She sniffed and, to Leo’s astonishment
and amusement, plucked a tissue from the depths of her cleavage. ‘Don’t think I’m not happy about it. I am, I suppose. It’s just that Vince and I hadn’t exactly planned it …’ She wiped her eyes, dabbing carefully to stop her mascara running. ‘It’s not really come at the best of times. I was just beginning to feel I was getting good at my job and things …’

‘You are. You’re very good,’ said Leo. ‘But look, it’s not the end of the world. We’ll keep your job open for you. Henry can muddle through. He’s done it in the past. You’ll be back before you know it.’

Felicity shrugged. ‘Maybe, but I doubt it. Vince doesn’t hold much with working mothers. The trouble is, he doesn’t know how much this job means to me.’ She looked up at Leo confidingly. ‘I even thought about - you know, not having it. Just so that I could stay on here.’

Leo felt a sudden chill as he recalled trying to persuade Rachel to have an abortion when she was pregnant with Oliver. ‘Don’t. You mustn’t think about that.’ Felicity was taken aback by the abruptness of his tone. Then he smiled again. ‘You’ll be fine. As I said, it isn’t the end of the world. I’ll speak to the other members of chambers. Your job will still be here if you want to come back. And knowing you, Felicity, I think that if you want it badly enough, you will.’ Felicity nodded. She looked sad and unconvinced. ‘When’s the baby due?’ added Leo, as he turned to open the door.

Felicity got up. ‘May next year. May the fifteenth.’

‘Plenty of time for you to talk Vince round. Lots of mothers work these days, you know. Rachel does.’

Yeah, thought Felicity, but she’s not living with someone
whose best hope of a job is still two years away. She smiled and said, ‘Thanks for listening.’

‘Any time.’

Leo left chambers and Felicity went back to her work, trying to think of new arguments to persuade Vince out of his steadfastly reactionary position.

Leo found that he was strangely nervous at the prospect of the imminent visit of the welfare officers. He put away the few odds and ends of Joshua’s that might indicate ownership of his room, dismantled the easel, and stacked away the canvases and paints. He went through to the room which, ever since he had taken the flat, had been earmarked for Oliver. It was bright and airy, facing the south of the building, with a cot in one corner, a chest of drawers, a cupboard full of toys and some picture books on a shelf. Leo had even put up two large posters, one of Postman Pat and Jess, and another of Thomas The Tank Engine. He remembered the day he had. put them up, balanced on a chair, Joshua laughing as he handed the adhesive up to him. Joshua, Joshua …

As he went back through to the drawing room to wait, Leo found himself reflecting upon the occasion when Rachel had rung the flat and Joshua had answered. What had she made of that? He had never asked her, too fearful of the idea that she might have said something prejudicial when the welfare people had visited her. That was madness. If she
had
said something, then he ought to know, ought to be prepared for anything they might say today.

Hastily he rang Nichols & Co. and asked to speak to
her. ‘Rachel, look, I’ve got these welfare people coming round shortly. I need to know what you said to them when they came to visit you.’

‘Said to them?’

‘About me.’

‘What about you?’ Rachel felt edgy and faintly guilty. The tone in which Leo spoke brought home to her just how much this business of regular access to Oliver meant to him. It was something to which she managed to harden her mind most of the time.

‘Don’t prevaricate, Rachel. You know what I’m talking about. I know that you spoke to Joshua last time you called the flat.’

‘Oh - Joshua, is it? So you like their names to be pretty as well as their faces.’ She spoke from a sense of bitterness which had never left her, not since the day when she had found out that Leo had never really loved her, not as she had loved him, burning with a need for him that persisted even now, despite Charles, despite everything. She despised herself for speaking as she did, but couldn’t help it.

There was a pause, then Leo said in a tired voice, ‘He doesn’t live here, if that’s what you’d been thinking. Not anymore.’

‘Well, that’s something you’ll have to explain to the welfare officers. As far as I was concerned, Leo, when I talked to them, I felt they needed to know what kind of person you are, the sort of life to which Oliver might be exposed.’

‘So you did say something?’

‘What did you expect, Leo? It’s the truth, isn’t it? You’ve
had young men fritting in and out of your life and your bed ever since I’ve known you. Even when we were married,’ she added bitterly. ‘Why should anyone think you’re likely to change now? I don’t want Oliver seeing all that, knowing what you do.’

You bitch, thought Leo. When he spoke his voice was cold with fury. ‘This isn’t about morality - don’t you understand that, you stupid woman? You’re lying to yourself and to me, and to everyone else, if you think that. I
love
Oliver. I am as I am, but I wouldn’t let anything about it affect or hurt my son. You know that - Christ, you
know
that, but you just won’t admit it.’

He slammed the phone down, and automatically and unthinkingly snatched a small crystal tumbler from the drinks cabinet and reached for the Scotch. Then he realised what he was doing and put them both back. He sat there, letting his anger die away.

Joshua passed through the ticket barrier and came out of Sloane Square tube station into the chilly October air. He turned right into Cliveden Place and headed towards Eaton Gate at a brisk walk. Then after a few moments his pace slackened and he came to a halt, leaning against some railings. He still didn’t think he had any clear idea of what he was going to do or say when he got to Leo’s. There was a lot he’d missed over the past few days. A sleeping bag on Les’s floor didn’t exactly compare with the comfort of his bedroom in the Belgravia flat and the last of his money was running out. Still, he had a job starting next week - places always seemed to be on the lookout for good-looking
waiters with enough charm and experience - and the up side was that he had his independence back. He did miss Leo a bit, but it was a relief to be free of the pressure of all that affection, no longer to be the focus of someone’s desires and expectations. He couldn’t live with that any more. Much as he liked Leo, he knew he could never become what Leo wanted him to be. Joshua pushed himself away from the railings and started to walk again. All that stuff about his paintings, maybe getting him an exhibition. Could Leo have done that for him? Maybe. Then again, maybe Leo had hoped it would be a way of making him stay, by promising things … Leaving Leo had also had something to do with Katie, that girl at the party. He’d really wanted her, wanted her in a way that being with Leo couldn’t compare with. Not any man. That had started out as a way of making money and look what it had turned into. No, he wasn’t going back to that. He was glad he’d left. But Leo had been really good to him, really generous, and he was grateful for that. He just hoped that he could pick up his things without any fuss and they could part amicably.

The sound of the buzzer to the flat made Leo jump. When the welfare officers announced themselves through the intercom, he pressed the button for the downstairs entrance and stood waiting for them at the open door of his flat. There were two of them, a woman in her mid-thirties, plump, short-haired, dressed in leggings and a long, beige anorak, scruffier than Leo had expected, and carrying a clipboard and notebook. With her was a nondescript, unsmiling young man whose handshake was damp and flabby.

The woman, who was clearly in charge, introduced herself as Mrs Jenkins, and her colleague as Mr Purser. Young Mr Purser glanced round the interior of Leo’s drawing room with a melancholy eye, as though he didn’t quite approve of what he saw. Mrs Jenkins, smiling benignly, began to ask Leo questions about his work. They made a tour of inspection of the flat, Mrs Jenkins nodding and making notes, Leo accompanying them diffidently, feeling somewhat humiliated by this scrutiny. When they returned to the living room, Mrs Jenkins glanced round at Leo’s collection of modern art and at the ceiling-high bookshelves and remarked, ‘It’s certainly a very grand place, Mr Davies. Quite palatial.’ She said this in such a way as to make Leo feel it might have been better for him if he’d lived in a modest little semi. ‘No garden, though, of course.’

‘There is a garden,’ said Leo. ‘It’s a communal garden, in the square. Only the residents have access. Oliver could play there.’ He went to the window with Mrs Jenkins while Mr Purser stared glumly at a shelf full of plays and poetry books. ‘Or there are the local parks, of course,’ added Leo. He looked down with Mrs Jenkins at the garden in the centre of the square, then felt his heart rise sharply in his chest. Joshua was walking across the square, unmistakably coming in the direction of the flat. He reached the pavement and disappeared into the doorway below.

‘Would you excuse me for a moment?’ muttered Leo, as the buzzer sounded. He went quickly into the hallway and pressed the intercom. ‘Come up.’

He heard the door open below and the sound of Joshua’s
feet on the stairs. The sight of him almost overpowered Leo. All the misery of the last several days seemed to come to a head in raw emotion. It was the worst possible situation in which to encounter Joshua, with all that he felt and wanted to say to him. His throat felt stopped with love and longing.

‘How did you know I was here?’ was all Leo could think to ask.

‘I rang your chambers.’ Joshua stood in the doorway, his fists rammed into the pockets of his jacket. Leo could not read the expression on his face, which wore its customary blank beauty. The only sense he could make of the situation was that Joshua had come back, that there was something still to be said and some future for them. He hoped and prayed, inwardly, that this was so, more fervently than he had ever done about anything in his life. He was suddenly horribly conscious of Mrs Jenkins and Mr Purser in the room behind him, waiting, listening, and wished Joshua had picked any other time but now.

‘Look—’ He put out a hand and laid it on Joshua’s arm;

Joshua let it rest there, hardly seeming to notice. ‘This is not a good time. There are some people here. Some welfare officers. It’s all about Oliver. You know, I told you.’ He hesitated, then said, ‘But look, come in, anyway. They must be just about finished.’

Joshua stepped into the hallway. ‘That’s all right,’ he said, ‘I’ve only come to pick up the rest of my stuff.’ The complete lack of concern in his manner struck Leo like a blow.

Joshua started up the hallway towards his room, but Leo put out a hand to stop him. ‘Don’t,’ he said quickly.
‘Don’t. Listen, wait until these people are gone. It’ll only take a few minutes. Go into the kitchen and make yourself a cup of coffee or something. We need to talk.’

‘No we don’t,’ replied Joshua, gently shaking off Leo’s hand. ‘I just want my things. I told you before, this was all a mistake.’

‘No, no - you have to listen.’ Leo’s voice was low and urgent. He glanced towards the half-shut door of the drawing room.

‘No, Leo,’ said Joshua firmly. He went to his room, Leo following.

Once inside Joshua’s room, Leo shut the door and leant against it, watching as Joshua began to take the remainder of his things from drawers and cupboards, putting them into the rucksack he had brought when he had first moved in. Leo had no idea what to say or do, was only filled with the knowledge that he could not let Joshua go, that things could and must be set right between them. Anguish filled him with speechless panic and he tried desperately to summon up the right words, the ones which would work. He could feel himself shaking. He watched as Joshua stacked up his three canvases.