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Authors: Caro Fraser

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BOOK: A Hallowed Place
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‘Rachel? It’s Anthony.’

‘Oh, Anthony - hello.’ Rachel sounded mildly surprised. ‘How are you?’

‘Fine,’ he lied. ‘Listen, I’ll tell you why I’m ringing. I don’t know if you know, but Leo has more or less disappeared from the face of the planet. Everyone’s rather worried about him and we can’t raise him at his London flat—’

‘He’s at Stanton,’ cut in Rachel. ‘I saw him over the weekend.’

‘Stanton? That’s his place near Oxford?’ Anthony was relieved at the news.

‘Yes. He said he was taking some time off. He seemed - well, a bit overwrought. As though things have got on top of him. His personal life and so on.’

That boy, thought Anthony. The one Leo had mentioned, the one he was so happy about. God, he might have known. He felt an unreasoning anger. ‘Did he say anything about when he was coming back?’

‘No. I only went there because he was looking after Oliver for me. My mother died at the weekend, you see. It was very sudden. Actually, you’re lucky you caught me. I just came in to tidy up some loose ends. I have to take some time off, see to the funeral, go through her things …’ Rachel’s voice trailed off.

‘I’m really sorry.’ Anthony allowed a respectful little pause, then said, ‘Could you give me Leo’s phone number there and some idea of where the house is? I think someone from chambers should try and have a word with him. He’s left us in a bit of a jam, as you can imagine.’

‘Yes, I can. Hold on a minute.’ After a few seconds Rachel gave Anthony the phone number and directions to the house. Anthony thanked her and was about to hang up when Rachel said, ‘By the way, can I ask you something?
It’s about Leo. I just wondered if he’d said anything about his application in respect of Oliver. You know, the access business. I thought if he’d mentioned it to anyone, it would be to you. He’s very close to you. I’m worried that it may have contributed to - well, to his problems.’

Anthony hesitated. ‘It might have. He has mentioned it in passing. I know that Oliver means the world to him and the past few months have been very tough - well, they must have been tough on both of you.’

‘Yes …’ Rachel sighed. ‘Anyway, I just wondered.’

‘Right. Look, thanks for your help. Bye.’

Anthony hung up, fingering the piece of paper on which he’d jotted down Leo’s address and number. His hand moved to the phone again, hesitating. He stood up, folding the piece of paper and slipping it into his pocket, and went downstairs.

‘Henry, I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Right ho.’

Anthony took a taxi back to Kensington, studied his road map briefly, then set off in his car for Oxford.

Leo’s Aston Martin sat on the broad gravel driveway in front of the house. Anthony parked and got out, relieved to see that Leo was there. He knocked, waited for a while, then knocked again. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps Leo had gone off somewhere. He had a picture of him, trudging the fields and roads at dusk, trying to exorcise whatever demons were tormenting him. But as he was about to turn away, Leo opened the door. Anthony was as much surprised
by Leo’s altered appearance as Rachel had been.

‘Hi,’ said Anthony a little uncertainly. ‘I thought I’d look you up. We’ve all been worried about you.’

‘We?’ Leo’s expression was blank, almost dismissive. He didn’t look as though he was glad to see Anthony.

‘You know - everyone in chambers.’ Anthony still stood on the doorstep, wondering if Leo was going to turn him away.

But after a few moments Leo sighed and said, ‘Come in.’

Anthony closed the door behind him and followed Leo into the drawing room, where the fire was burning low. A book lay open, face down, on the sofa where Leo had been lying reading. Leo picked it up and closed it, then sat down with it on his lap. He looked up at Anthony. ‘Sit down.’

Anthony sat in the armchair opposite. There was a silence. ‘So,’ said Anthony, ‘what have you been up to since you left?’

It was a few seconds before Leo spoke. ‘I suppose you could call it a re-evaluation.’ His tone was flat. Anthony didn’t think he had ever seen so spiritless a Leo in all the time he had known him. He found it disturbing.

‘A re-evaluation?’

‘Of everything. Myself, my life. What I am, what I’m not, what I should be.’

Anthony nodded thoughtfully. There was another silence, then he said, ‘Actually, I pretty much liked you the way you were.’

For a second something quickened in Leo’s expression. ‘Did you? That’s kind of you, Anthony. But things are not the same. Please don’t think you can just pop down here
and try to sort me out. You know nothing about how things have been with me recently. In fact, we haven’t actually been very close for a while, have we? You’ve been busy with Camilla—’

‘That’s finished,’ said Anthony quickly. He stood up abruptly and paced round the room. Leo sat in silence, watching him. ‘I did something bloody stupid and it’s over. Anyway, that’s not the point. I’m here to talk about you. To help, if I can.’

‘I rather think I may be beyond help. At any rate, the kind you’re able to offer.’

The remoteness of Leo’s manner caused Anthony to feel an instant’s anger and unhappiness. ‘Why don’t you let me try? You’re behaving as though I’m an unwelcome guest that you can’t wait to see the back of. The way you’re talking, this distant manner of yours—’ He stopped, looking down at Leo, suddenly filled with the recollection of all that they had once meant to one another. The time in this room when Leo had kissed him, and held him. That had been so precious. Whose fault was it if distance had grown up between them? He hesitated, then sat down next to Leo and laid his hand upon his arm. ‘Tell me. Just tell me everything, and then see if I can help,’ said Anthony gently. ‘I haven’t forgotten, and neither have you.’ Their eyes met, and an instantaneous current of feeling passed between them. Anthony was startled by its intensity, filled with sudden longing and affection. ‘I still love you,’ he said, not in the least surprised at how easily the words came.

Leo leant back, closed his eyes, then moved his arm so that his hand clasped Anthony’s. Something seemed to
loosen within him, a kind of emotional release. Then he began to tell him about Joshua and all that had happened.

When he had finished, Leo opened his eyes and stared blankly ahead. ‘What do you do about love? It takes hold of you and makes you utterly powerless. Perhaps I give in to it too easily.’ He turned and looked at Anthony. ‘Do you think I give in to it too easily?’ He searched in Anthony’s brown eyes for an answer. Anthony said nothing. ‘Why couldn’t it have been you? Why not someone kind, with no mercenary motives, that I can be on equal terms with?’ asked Leo thoughtfully. ‘Why?’

‘Because - because I didn’t let it happen,’ said Anthony quietly. ‘If I had, it would probably all have ended just the way it did with Joshua.’ There was a brief silence. ‘Perhaps we were lucky,’ went on Anthony. ‘I’m still here. One way or another, I always will be. You should be asking why it couldn’t have been Rachel. I’ve never understood that.’

‘Oh, Rachel,’ groaned Leo. ‘Everything was wrong there from the beginning. My fault. My motives. Everything we do comes back on us. She tried. She really tried. But I can’t give her what she wants. I couldn’t even tell her about Joshua. She wouldn’t understand. Wouldn’t want to. It was hard enough keeping up a brave front with her when she came to fetch Oliver.’ He laughed ruefully. ‘Oliver seems to be the only person I don’t have to pretend with, and that’s because he’s too little to care. But I’ve made a complete balls-up where he’s concerned, of course.’ He passed a hand across his face, rubbing at his beard. ‘Another thing that hasn’t helped,’ he added, ‘is that I started to get some rather unpleasant emails. In fact, that adjective doesn’t begin to describe how vile they were.’

‘At chambers?’

Leo shook his head. ‘At home.’ He reflected for a moment. ‘Do you know, they actually frightened me. I’ve never received anonymous messages before.’

‘Who do you think sent them?’

‘I’ve no idea. Someone who plainly dislikes me. That covers a fairly broad sweep.’

‘What about Joshua?’ ventured Anthony.

‘No,’ said Leo thoughtfully. ‘I don’t think Joshua disliked me. And he wasn’t that kind of person. Joshua was - was far too …’ He stopped and sighed, a look of pain creasing his features.

‘The point is,’ said Anthony gently, ‘what are you going to do? You can’t just hide away down here for ever. Two weeks is a long time in anyone’s politics, and your practice is going to suffer if you stay away much longer.’ He paused, wondering if this was a wise thing to say. Given Leo’s frame of mind, it was possible that he didn’t want to give work any thoughts at present. He added tentatively, ‘There’s the museum as well. Chay’s a bit worried about the Anthony Caro sculpture.’

Leo sighed. ‘Oh, he’s no need to worry about that. That’s all tied up.’ He glanced at Anthony. ‘When’s the next trustees meeting?’

‘Wednesday. I think Chay would like you to be there. Things are coming together now and he’s getting rather nervy. Besides,’ added Anthony, ‘there’s also a chambers meeting on Friday. Jeremy’s going to try and bulldoze through his proposals for moving to Sussex Street. You don’t want to lose your say in that.’

Leo pondered this. ‘No,’ he said. ‘You’re right. When I came down here I didn’t care if I never saw chambers again. But it’s just about all there is, in the long run. That, and Oliver.’ He stared at the carpet, musing. ‘I suppose a couple of weeks away has helped me to come to terms with things. Nursing one’s wounds in solitude is ultimately extremely boring. And I rather think that work has become a habit which is impossible to break. I keep thinking about it, about cases.’ He glanced at Anthony, a slight smile betraying some of his old animation. ‘Believe it or not, throughout my hermit-like existence of the past two weeks I have found myself wondering if it might not be a good idea to serve some interrogatories on the other side in that salvage case, just to upset Sinclair’s. What do you think?’

‘You’ll be pleased to know that I tracked Leo down,’ Anthony announced to Henry the following morning.

‘Well, that’s something. I’d be even more pleased if I knew when he was going to show his face again.’

‘Quite soon, I think.’ He glanced at Felicity and smiled. ‘Congratulations, by the way - David told me on the way in. When’s the baby due?’

‘May,’ replied Felicity.

‘Sorry you’ll be leaving us, though. Is that for me? Thanks.’ Anthony took his mail and went upstairs. Outside his room he bumped into Sarah.

‘Good morning,’ she said amiably.

‘Possibly for you,’ replied Anthony coldly. ‘Tell me - is it something pathological, this desire to interfere in other people’s lives, to ruin relationships?’

Sarah smiled. ‘Oh dear, has your past caught up with you?’

At that moment Anthony could hear Roderick’s footsteps descending the stairs. He’d by no means finished saying all he wanted to say to Sarah. He opened the door of his room and gestured to her to go in.

He closed the door and turned to her. ‘Why did you have to tell her? What earthly good has it done any of us?’

Sarah sighed. ‘You don’t get it, do you? It’s not her finding out that’s messed things up. It’s you. And if it hadn’t happened now, it would have happened sooner or later. Face it. I’ve probably done you a favour. Just think how it would have been if she were to find out about you six or seven years from now, perhaps with a jolly little baby or two around. Now, that really would be an unhappy situation. As it is, she knows the kind of person you are, and she can go off and find someone who really is stable and considerate and faithful, and all those other boring things.’

‘What would you know about the kind of person I am?’ demanded Anthony, smarting none the less from the painful truth of this.

‘Put it this way - you may dress and sound and behave like all the other drips in this and every other set of chambers in the Temple, and you may want to lead a nice conventional life, but you just can’t handle it. You have this ideal, this cosy, safe relationship that you want to construct with someone, so that you can hide away from reality. Do you think if we hadn’t got it together a few weeks ago that you and Camilla would have lived happily ever after? If it hadn’t been me, there would have been someone else. You’ll never be satisfied, Anthony, because you don’t really know what you want. You just think you do. Or you think
you know what you
ought
to want. You’re like Leo, living a lie. Only at least Leo woke up to the fact a year or so ago. When are you going to?’ Anthony said nothing. ‘Anyway, I’ve got work to do. Can’t keep dear David waiting.’ She left, closing the door behind her.

Anthony turned and walked slowly to the window, his hands in his pockets. Was all that true? Was he destined to go through life trying to find the perfect partner, only to see each and every relationship come to nothing through his own perfidy and weakness? He tried to trace the evolution of his feelings for Camilla. He had liked her, he had enjoyed the safe acceptance that he found in her. It had been easy to make himself fall in love with her. Was that what he had done? Made himself? He remembered the first time he had made love to her and realised that there had been a sense of completion about it, as though he had taken another satisfactory step on some then unspecified road. The road to the right relationship. Certainly he had wanted her but, as he had discovered, he wanted most attractive young women, in a random, automatic sort of way. And asking her to move in with him - had that just been an attempt to parcel it all up neatly? It was hard to tell how much was genuine, and how much manufactured. He felt pain at having lost Camilla, but less than he had imagined. Surely if he really had been in love with her, the loss would have been devastating, crippling?

He stood moodily by the window, looking down, and suddenly a familiar figure came through the archway and across Caper Court. Leo was walking rapidly towards
chambers, his cashmere coat slung carelessly over his shoulders, looking for all the world as though nothing had ever happened to disturb the tranquillity of his life. He had shaved, Anthony noticed, though he hadn’t yet had his hair cut, its silver fringe an inch or so over his collar. He saw Leo stop to chat with another barrister crossing the court, their breath making little smoky plumes in the cold air as they talked. As he stood at the window watching him, Anthony was struck by the force of his affection for the man. He had always taken Leo’s presence for granted, even in those times when they were not close. The sound of his voice, his rapid step on the stair, the sight of his smile - Anthony realised that they were part of his own security. Leo and the other barrister parted company, and Leo’s figure disappeared from sight below. Anthony thought about what Sarah had said. Were he and Leo alike? Perhaps. He recalled the feelings he had once had for Leo, and wondered whether he hadn’t found more pleasure and intellectual stimulation in Leo’s company than that of any woman. Not just intellectual. There had been a time when he had thought that he and Leo could be more than just friends. But at what cost? His tenancy, almost certainly. He could not imagine how things would have been. Besides, he had been young and too afraid, too confused by his feelings. Perhaps Sarah was right.

Perhaps he was lying to himself, trying to construct safe, conventional relationships that were ultimately doomed to disaster. Leo was probably the one person with whom he was happiest. But Leo now had his struggles, his own
problems to contend with. That visit to Stanton, although it had helped Leo to some degree, had shown Anthony just how isolated Leo really was. With a sigh Anthony sat down at his desk to work.

Felicity and Henry looked up as Leo came into the clerks’ room, shrugging off his coat. Felicity thought he looked better than he had when he left, though he still had dark hollows beneath his eyes.

‘Good morning. I hope you managed to keep my practice afloat while I was away?’

Felicity caught Henry’s stony look and said brightly, ‘Yeah, we muddled through, Mr Davies. There’s quite a lot of stuff here for you, though. And your diary’ll need sorting out. We weren’t certain when you’d be back.’

Henry waited to see if Leo would take this cue for an apology, but Leo merely put out a hand for his mail and said, ‘Thanks. Pop up in half an hour and we’ll go through it.’

‘Bloody cheek,’ muttered Henry, when Leo was out of earshot. ‘You’d think he could at least say sorry, all the trouble he’s put us to.’

‘You know what he’s like. No excuses, no apologies. I’m just glad he’s back.’

In his room Leo leafed through his mail. He paused at one letter, a small, oblong envelope with his name written on it in meticulous script, obviously hand-delivered. He tore it open and read through the contents. It was from Desmond Broadhurst, letting Leo know that he was going to be leaving the Temple by Christmas to live with his daughter in Lincoln, and would Leo care to come to a small drinks party he was throwing on December the
eleventh. Leo read the letter thoughtfully, then folded it up. An astonishing yet rather obvious idea had just occurred to him. He sat thinking for a few moments, then stood up and walked to the window, and looked across to Desmond’s top floor flat. Was there any reason why it couldn’t be done? In his mind he mapped out the plan of the rooms on the floor above. The room at the end, where Desmond’s flat adjoined number 5, was occupied by Roderick, so he’d have to move out while the work was done. But it was possible. There were eight good sized rooms in Desmond’s flat. Leo tapped his chin thoughtfully and smiled.

Felicity climbed wearily up the flight of stairs to the flat. It had been a long day, made longer by having had to field all the little jokes and congratulations in chambers, now that the news of her pregnancy had gradually got around. The kind things everyone said only brought home more forcefully to her the fact that she would be leaving in a few months to face a future that suddenly seemed frightening in its uncertainty. She reached the front door, wondering whether Vince would be in. She almost hoped he wouldn’t be. Since the events of Saturday evening, everything was suddenly horribly, starkly changed. Vince had retreated into a state of angry depression. He seemed more concerned about the idea that he might not be able to get his black cab licence now than about the condition of the youth with whom he’d had the fight. Felicity sometimes wondered whether Vince properly appreciated what would happen if the boy died. The thought tormented her every waking
moment and each day she would come back home, half expecting to discover that Vince had been carted off by the police again to face a more serious charge than GBH. When she tried to discuss it with Vince, he simply clammed up, refused to speak.

The sound of the television as she opened the front door told her that Vince was in. She glanced into the kitchen as she passed it and saw the empty cans by the sink. Her heart sank. The one thing she didn’t need was for Vince to start drinking. But it was inevitable, she supposed. It was his way of coping.

She went into the living room and found Vince stretched out on the sofa, watching television, the pages of
Sporting Life
scattered about and a half-drunk bottle of vodka on the floor next to the sofa. He looked up when Felicity came in, but said nothing, merely reached for the bottle and took a swig.

‘Oh, Vince …’ sighed Felicity. ‘This isn’t going to do any good. Have you just been sat in here all day?’

‘Course I bloody have,’ replied Vince. ‘What else is there for me to do? What do you suggest, eh?’

‘Don’t have a go at me,’ said Felicity, taking off her shoes and rubbing at her toes. ‘I just think you’d be better off getting out, instead of lying around here feeling sorry for yourself and getting pissed. That’s not going to help.’

‘Oh, yeah? Go out and do what, exactly?’ Vince glared at her. ‘You know what that pig said. My chances of doing my knowledge are knackered now.’

‘You don’t know that. Not yet. You might not go down
on that GBH charge. You can’t tell. So why don’t you just carry on doing your routes? Then at least you’re not wasting your time—’

‘Oh, do me a favour!’ Vince suddenly shouted, swinging his feet off the sofa. ‘Of course I’m gonna go down! Aren’t you the one who’s been going on about this bloke dying, an’ all? Then I’m gonna go down fucking big time, aren’t I? And you tell me I ought to be out on the bike, like I’ve got nothing to worry about!’ He grabbed his boots and pulled them on. ‘Okay, lady, if that’s what you want me to do, I’ll do it. I’ll pretend that everything’s hunky-dory. Anything to get away from you goin’ on at me.’

He got up and picked his jacket off the back of a chair.

‘Vince, don’t be stupid,’ said Felicity in alarm, getting up and following him as he strode to the front door. ‘You’ve been drinking all afternoon. Don’t go and make it all worse.’ Vince picked up his cycle helmet in the hallway, ignoring her, then opened the front door. Felicity, in her bare feet, followed him out on to the landing, grabbing at the sleeve of his jacket.

He stopped on the top step and turned to her, his eyes angry and drunk. ‘I’m doing what you want, Fliss. All right?’ He shook his sleeve free of her grasp and started down the stairs. Felicity reached out to pull him back, but he had moved away too quickly. Her hand clutched at air and she stumbled forward, missing her footing, and fell. An agonising pain shot through her knee as it made contact with the concrete steps and she tumbled past Vince, grabbing for the banister and missing. It seemed absurd to her that she kept on
falling, as if for ever. Then a searing light touched her vision for a second as her head hit the stairs and she was unconscious, sprawled at the bottom of the flight of steps.

Henry learnt about Felicity’s accident from Roderick the following morning. ‘How is she? What happened?’ he asked in alarm.

‘She’s not too bad. It was quite a tumble, as far as I can gather. She’s cracked a bone in her knee and - well, very sadly, she’s lost the baby.’

‘Oh, God …’ muttered Henry. His mind reached out to Felicity, filled with pity and unhappiness.

‘Anyway, she’s going to be away for some time. I don’t think we can expect her back until after Christmas, at the earliest.’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Think you can cope?’

‘Probably not,’ sighed Henry. ‘But don’t worry - you’ll be the first to know.’

Henry went about his work in miserable distraction. He would go and see her that evening, take her something. She liked those glossy magazines,
Tatler
and
Vogue
. He’d pick up a couple on the way, and some chocolates. But how useless and trivial such things would appear in the light of her loss.

Some flowers? No, there was something too celebratory about flowers. Maybe he should take nothing. It was ironic, really, to think that when she had first found out she was pregnant she had wanted to
get rid of the baby. And now that she had come round to being happy and accepting it, this should happen. Poor Felicity. Still. A sudden realisation came to Henry and with it a little surge of happiness that made him feel quite guilty. Felicity wouldn’t be leaving chambers after all. There was that. So one of Felicity’s worries had been wiped out, in a cruel way. Henry sighed. Perhaps it was wrong of him, but given that Vince’s chances of earning a living for Felicity and the baby had vanished overnight, he couldn’t help thinking that, in some ways, it was all for the best. He really couldn’t.

At the end of the day, just as he was about to leave, Rachel rang Leo. ‘I just wanted to thank you for looking after Oliver on Saturday night.’

‘He’s my son,’ replied Leo. ‘You don’t need to thank me.’

‘No … Well, anyway … I suppose the real reason I’m ringing is to say that you can drop the application for access in respect of Oliver.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean there’s no need. If you want him every other weekend you can have him.’

There was silence for a moment. Then Leo said slowly, ‘You do know that because of what happened when the welfare officers came round, I’d probably have been unsuccessful anyway, don’t you?’

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