A Perfect Obsession (10 page)

‘Banana,’ replied Sarah. ‘Your son thought I needed some.’ She picked up the plates and carried them to the dishwasher. ‘I’m going to take a shower.’

‘I’ll join you upstairs in a while,’ said Leo. She turned and met his eye. His expression was fathomless.

He wants me, thought Sarah, as she showered. He always has. Or rather, he wants sex. I’m good at it. I know what he likes, I’ll do anything that he turns his mind to, and he needs that. He needs to let go. That’s why he likes to sleep with me. But there has to be more to it than that. I have to make it more than that, so that he starts to think about me in a different way. As she stepped out of the shower and began to dry herself, Sarah had to admit that she didn’t have a clue how to do this.

Leo was already there when she came through, sitting up in the huge bed that was big enough for more than two
people, if necessary. She and Leo and James had shared it for a while. Sarah wondered, fleetingly, where James was now. Jacking up with a load of other junkies, probably. Not that Leo cared. Leo had never cared.

He was reading a magazine. Sarah lifted it gently from his hands and glanced at the cover, then burst out laughing.

‘
Arbitrations
and Disputes Resolution Law Journal?
Is this to get you turned on, or something?’

‘I don’t need turning on,’ said Leo. ‘Come here.’

She knelt, naked, on the edge of the bed, and he kissed her breasts, drawing her towards him, immediately aroused. His touch was electric, sending waves of desire through her limbs. She lay next to him.

‘Now …’ said Leo softly. He kissed her fiercely, and she closed her eyes.

After a moment she said, ‘I want to ask you something.’

‘What?’ His hands caressed her body.

‘Do you think of this—’ She hesitated. ‘Do you think of this as just sex, or as making love?’

‘If there’s a difference,’ replied Leo, ‘then this is sex. Of the very best kind, I might add. Bringing love into it is quite another thing. That implies closeness. And closeness is not something I’m very good at. Nor are you, if everything you say is true.’

‘No … I’m not. Oh, God, that’s so good …’ She closed her eyes as he moved his hand. ‘Could you just …’

‘What?’

‘Could you just … pretend? As a game. Just to make it more erotic.’ She smiled, kissed him, her tongue against his. ‘Pretend that it’s more than just sex. That you love me,
you’ve never wanted anyone as much, that this is something passionate, some huge romance. It’s something we’ve never done before.’

Leo chuckled. ‘You strange girl. Anything, whatever. I’ll even pretend it’s the first time, if you like. I enjoy games, especially with you.’ And he kissed her tenderly, lovingly, murmuring to her like a lover, and Sarah had a heart aching longing for it to be real. Not just a game. One day, she promised, as she gave her body to him, she would make it real. And even as she thought this, she knew she was slipping into dangerous waters.

Rachel was cooking breakfast the next morning when she remembered. Her hand went to her mouth. ‘I forgot to tell Leo.’

‘What?’ Charles looked up from the Sunday papers.

‘That we wouldn’t be back until seven. Remember, we’re going over to Nick’s for lunch, and then we said we’d drive over to that antiques auction. There’s no way we’ll be back for six.’

‘Well, give him a ring.’

Rachel dialled Leo’s London number and got his answer phone, and guessed he must have gone to Stanton. She rang that number.

Sarah was lying in bed, drowsy from early morning sex. For someone over forty-six, she reflected, Leo had extraordinary energy. And inventiveness. She listened to Oliver wailing in his bedroom and was glad that it was Leo, and not she, who had to attend to him. When the phone rang, she stretched out a lazy hand. ‘Hello?’

Rachel was taken aback by the sound of a woman’s voice. ‘Is Leo there?’ she asked, her voice sharp.

Sarah yawned. ‘I’m sorry … he’s rather busy at the moment. Can I ask who’s calling?’

‘Rachel,’ came the tight reply.

‘Oh, Rachel, hi! This is Sarah.’ She smiled, delighted by the situation. ‘We met at a party a while ago – remember? Can I help?’

‘I’d really like to speak to Leo, please.’

‘I think he’s changing the baby … Hold on, I’ll just see if he’s finished.’ She put her hand over the receiver and called out to Leo, who came in in his boxer shorts, carrying Oliver. She held the phone out to him, mouthing Rachel’s name, and Leo took it.

‘Rachel. Hello.’ He sat down on the bed, Oliver on his knee.

‘I rang to say that Charles and I won’t be back till seven tonight. We promised to go to an auction with Charles’s son after lunch. I forgot to mention it yesterday.’ Her voice was cold.

‘Right. Well … I’ll bring him back around half-past. How’s that?’

‘Fine.’ There was a strained pause. Rachel wanted to say something about Sarah, wanted to give vent to her irrational displeasure that Leo should have some woman with him when he was meant to be giving his full attention to Oliver, but of course she couldn’t.

‘So,’ said Leo, reading the silence, feeling the familiar depression that Rachel’s unspoken reproaches always brought, ‘see you tonight. Bye.’

He put the phone down and glanced at Sarah, who was leaning back against the pillows and smiling wickedly. ‘Oh dear, Leo – she wasn’t pleased.’

‘No, she wasn’t. My ex-wife can be remarkably censorious. Doubtless thinks you’re a moral danger to Oliver.’

‘She’s probably still in love with you. I don’t think I ever saw anyone as besotted with anyone as she was with you. Remember Sir Basil’s party?’

‘Don’t think I’ve forgotten your little performance on that occasion,’ remarked Leo drily. ‘Come on,’ he said to Oliver, ‘let’s get you some breakfast.’

‘What’s up?’ asked Charles, glancing at Rachel’s face as she put the phone down.

‘He’s at Stanton. With some girl.’

‘Leo? Well, he’s entitled to a bit of fun, isn’t he?’

‘You’d think he might choose some time other than the weekend that he’s meant to be looking after Oliver.’

‘Yes, well …’ Charles sighed and scratched his head, sympathising with Leo. Two days on the trot with Oliver without any other adults around would test anyone. ‘Maybe he just wanted some company. Chaps do.’

‘I happen to have met this particular creature he’s sharing his weekend with. She’s part of his more sordid past. A few years ago she spent a summer at Stanton, she and some young man, some boyfriend of Leo’s. God alone knows what they got up to. I can just imagine.’

Charles absorbed this with interest. ‘What? You don’t mean they—? Really? Well, well … The more the merrier
with Leo, eh? You’ve got to admire him for it.’

Rachel shot Charles a glance. ‘I don’t particularly like that kind of girl around my son.’

Or in your ex-husband’s bed,
thought Charles.
That’s what really gets you.
He stared bleakly back at his newspaper.

Leo was making Oliver’s breakfast when Sarah appeared, dressed, swinging her car keys.

‘Not staying for breakfast?’

‘Things to do. I have to get back to London.’

‘Not even a cup of coffee?’

‘Not even a cup of coffee.’ She approached Oliver’s high chair and dropped a kiss on the silky head. ‘Thank you both for a very stimulating few hours.’ She didn’t kiss Leo, but gave him a brief smile as she opened the back door. ‘Bye.’

‘Bye. See you in chambers tomorrow.’

Leo was only mildly surprised by her sudden departure. It was part of her unpredictability, and therefore her charm. Yet as he set Oliver’s bowl of cereal before him, he was aware of a feeling of loss. She was good to have around. Sunday would be less fun without her.

Henry was feeling distinctly stressed. His phone hadn’t stopped ringing all day, he had so many emails he couldn’t answer them all, and the volume of work was increasing to the point where he was definitely going to have to raise the matter of bringing in another clerk. On top of all that, he couldn’t get hold of Felicity, because she’d gone down to the House of Lords and hadn’t switched her mobile on. He sighed in exasperation as the phone rang again.

‘Answer that, will you, Robert?’ Henry tapped at his keyboard and stared at the screen. ‘Who was it?’ he asked, as Robert put the phone down.

‘Richard Crouch at More Fisher Brown. Needs someone to do an application for summary judgment tomorrow. Wants a fluent French speaker, someone no more than two years call. I said I’d try Simon.’

‘Right.’ Henry glanced up as Anthony came into the clerks’ room in his shirtsleeves. He looked as harassed as Henry felt.

‘Henry, can I have a print out of my diary for this week? I’ve got a feeling there’s a hearing on Thursday on that judicial review.’

‘Printer’s on the blink,’ remarked Robert in passing.

‘Oh, brilliant!’

‘Don’t,’ said Henry, putting his hands to his temples. ‘Someone’s coming round in half an hour to have a look at it. Hold on, let’s have a look on the screen … No, you’re all right. The Crown Office somehow got the date wrong. The actual hearing’s been set for March the fifth.’

‘That’s a relief.’

Michael Gibbon, who had once been Anthony’s pupil-master, came in and took some mail from his pigeonhole. He glanced at Anthony. ‘I’m just off for lunch. Want to come? If we go now, we can hit the Devereux before the teeming hordes descend.’

Anthony looked at his watch. After the morning he’d had, he could do with a drink. Normally he didn’t drink at lunchtime, but today he would make an exception. ‘Just give me five minutes. I’ll see you there.’

By the time Anthony got to the pub, Michael had found a table and bought a couple of half pints. Anthony sat down and took a grateful sip. ‘Shall I order us some lunch before it gets busy?’

‘Good idea. I’ll have the shepherd’s pie.’

As Anthony paid for the food, he heard someone call his name and turned. A cheerful, florid face, surmounted by a shock of flaxen hair smiled back at him.

‘Edward! Good to see you.’ He and Edward shook hands. Edward Choke and he had once been rivals at 5
Caper Court, both vying for the same tenancy. Anthony had had the brains, but Edward had had the distinct advantage of being the nephew of the then head of chambers, Sir Basil Bunting. In the end, Anthony had been successful, much to the chagrin of Sir Basil, but to the secret relief of Edward, whose intellectual powers had been severely taxed by the work which had come his way during his pupillage at Caper Court. ‘Haven’t seen you in months. Michael and I are just having a quick spot of lunch. Why don’t you join us?’

‘Thanks – I’ll just get myself a drink and order some food.’

Eventually, Edward emerged from the scrum at the bar and sat down with his drink, demanding to know all the gossip from Caper Court. Anthony and Michael were happy to oblige.

‘So,’ said Anthony, halfway through his shepherd’s pie, ‘how are things going at Morgan Grenfell?’

‘Oh, I packed that in a year ago,’ said Edward airily. ‘Not really my scene, you know.’

‘So, whose gain is the financial world’s loss?’ asked Michael with a smile.

Edward took a few seconds to unravel this. He blinked and took a sip of his beer. ‘Oh, I see what you mean. Well, as a matter of fact, I’ve joined the Civil Service.’ He lowered his head to scrape up the remains of his hotpot, and Michael and Anthony exchanged the briefest of smiling glances.

‘Not fast-tracking, are you?’

‘God, no. Just wanted something decent that wasn’t too much like hard work and didn’t interfere with my social life. I come into my trust fund next year, when I’m
twenty-five, so money’s not a problem, but a chap’s got to have something to do.’

‘So what’s your job, exactly?’ asked Anthony.

Edward scratched his head. ‘Well, I’m an officer attached to the old culture set-up. Only it’s not old – it’s the new thing, the Ministry for Artistic and Cultural Development. I’m not quite sure what I do half the time. Field applications from people wanting money, mostly. Everyone wants money for some project or another. I’m in charge of East London bids, but since there’s not a lot of culture in East London, it makes my life a fairly easy one.’

Anthony put his knife and fork together and stared at Edward. ‘That’s astonishing. You’re just the man I need.’ Edward looked blank. ‘My father, Chay Cross, has set up a museum of modern art in Shoreditch, and the trustees are looking for additional funding.’

Edward waved a hand. ‘Stick in a bid. I’m sure I can use a bit of influence with a junior minister to help things along.’

‘Tell you what,’ went on Anthony, sensing that Edward could be more than a little useful here, ‘the museum launch party is taking place in a couple of weeks. Why don’t you come along?’

‘Love to. In the meantime, I’ll dig out some forms for you to fill in. I think I’ve got some somewhere.’ Edward drained his glass. ‘Fancy another, you two?’

‘Can’t, I’m afraid,’ said Michael. ‘I have to be getting back to chambers.’

‘Me, too,’ said Anthony. ‘But look, I’ll put a couple of invitations in the post. You still living in the same place?’

‘Still in Onslow Gardens.’

‘Right. I’ll be in touch. Good to see you.’

Michael and Anthony walked back across Fountain Court to chambers. Michael chuckled and shook his head. ‘How long do you suppose he’s going to last at the Civil Service?’

‘Long enough to help us with our grant for funding, I hope,’ said Anthony. ‘Sounds as though he won’t need a job after his next birthday. Wish someone would set up a trust fund for me. Lucky beggar.’

She’d seen him on the way in. Now, as she left the House of Lords and set off for Westminster tube to hop the couple of stops to Temple, Felicity noticed him again. She couldn’t help taking a second glance. He was very good-looking. Early thirties? Slim, not as tall as Vince, not as big as Vince … brown hair with blond streaks that might have come out of a bottle, or might be the product of the same sun that had given him his nice tan. He looked like he fancied himself, but Felicity could hardly blame him. She walked up to the lights to cross Parliament Square, and was aware that he had come in the same direction and was standing next to her. She glanced at him, and their eyes met. He smiled.

‘You’re from 5 Caper Court, aren’t you?’

Felicity was startled. ‘Yes.’

‘I’m a clerk at 3 Wessex Street. Peter Weir.’

‘Oh … hi. I’m Felicity Waller.’

‘I know.’ Suddenly he took her elbow and steered her. ‘Quick, make a dash now.’

Felicity allowed herself to be propelled through the traffic.

‘Where are you headed?’ Peter Weir took his hand from her elbow as they reached the other side, and Felicity was instantly conscious of the loss of contact. God, he was gorgeous.

‘Back to chambers. How do you know my name?’

‘I asked back there.’ Peter jerked his head in the direction of the House of Lords. They paused on the pavement. ‘D’you have to go straight back? Or do you have time for lunch?’

She hesitated, surprised by the directness of this. ‘Why?’

For a moment he looked blank. ‘Because you look like a wonderful, warm human being with whom I would like to share my lunch hour.’

She laughed and shrugged. It wasn’t every day some amazing stranger asked you out to lunch. And those eyes, all warm and crinkly. He looked a little older than she’d thought at first. ‘OK. Why not?’

It was just a quick sandwich and a cup of coffee, but by the end of their conversation Felicity felt as though she’d known Peter Weir far longer than half an hour. It was certainly a change to be treated with such charm and candid admiration. He could teach Vince a thing or two. He had a confiding, easy manner, he was funny, but a little acerbic and cynical about the members of his chambers, and Felicity guessed that he thought himself a cut above most clerks. That was the only thing about him – he really rated himself, a thing Felicity generally didn’t care for. Still, maybe it was just his way of chatting someone up.

At last Felicity glanced reluctantly at her watch. She’d left Henry up to his eyes in it, and she really should be getting back. ‘I have to go,’ she said.

‘Come on, we can get a cab back together and I’ll drop you off.’

‘I was going to get the tube.’

‘I’m not one for public transport. Share my cab.’

‘OK,’ said Felicity, though she suspected she’d be faster taking the tube. It would be nice to prolong this new acquaintance. If there was one thing she’d found out during their brief lunch, she liked looking at him. A lot.

As Felicity got out in Middle Temple Lane, Peter leant across. ‘Busy tonight?’

Blimey, thought Felicity, this one didn’t hang about. She felt flattered, and quite ridiculously pleased. But there was Vince, and besides, tonight she had to go to Belmarsh to see him.

‘Afraid so.’ What would she have said, she wondered, if in fact she hadn’t been busy?

‘Pity. Give us your number.’ Felicity watched as he keyed it into his mobile. ‘Nice meeting you, Felicity,’ Peter said, and grinned.

‘You too.’ The cab door closed and he was gone.

A little dazed, and disproportionately excited by the events of the last hour, Felicity went back to chambers. Things seemed to have quietened down since the morning, and the printer was up and running once again.

Henry glanced up as she came in. ‘You’re looking pleased with yourself.’

Felicity suddenly realised that, quite unconsciously,
she had been smiling to herself. ‘Life could be worse,’ she replied jauntily, and hung her coat up. She was sure he’d call. What was she going to say when he did? She couldn’t two-time Vince … Well, she’d worry about that if and when he called. She felt a little flutter of excitement in her stomach at the mere thought of it.

Leo came into the clerks’ room on his way back from lunch and Henry buttonholed him.

‘Mr Davies, I’ve been meaning to have a word. It seems I can never get hold of Mr Hayter. It’s about the amount of work being generated. Felicity and Robert and I can just about cope, but I’m worried about what’s going to happen when the annexe is finished. Are we going to be taking more tenants? Because if we are, I don’t see how the three of us are going to manage. Things are bad enough as it is.’

‘Actually, I’ve been giving it some thought. The original idea was simply to create more space for the present number of tenants, but the whole of that floor gives us much more room than we’d realised. Expansion is always a possibility.’

‘Well, in that case, I think we’ll have to look seriously at bringing in another clerk. Not necessarily a junior, either.’

‘Yes, I take your point.’ Leo gave a sigh. ‘Look, I’ll bring it up at the next chambers meeting.’

‘I’d be grateful.’

Leo went up to his room, and on the way knocked on Camilla’s door. They had arranged to spend the afternoon going through statements and bundles in the Lloyd’s Names case. ‘Ready when you are,’ said Leo.

‘I’ll just finish this and be up in five minutes,’ said Camilla.

The afternoon was spent reading through statements, documents and letters. It was wearisome work. Towards half past four, there was a knock at the door and Anthony looked in. He seemed a little startled and embarrassed by the presence of Camilla, who gave him a chilly glance and carried on with her reading.

‘I wondered if I could borrow your copy of Scrutton,’ said Anthony, his voice and manner distant.

Leo lowered his half-moon spectacles and inspected his bookshelves. After a few seconds, he stretched up to pluck a volume from the shelf. The way his muscles moved beneath his shirt touched Anthony suddenly and unexpectedly with a rush of feeling. Leo handed him the book.

‘Thanks.’ It was spoken grudgingly.

‘Any time,’ said Leo, with a bemused smile. Anthony’s touchiness, his ability to nourish antagonism, was quite remarkable. But then, he was very young.

When Anthony had gone, Leo remarked to Camilla, ‘You two barely seem to acknowledge one another these days.’

Camilla looked up at him in surprise. ‘I haven’t a great deal to say to him. No more than to any other person who might drop into your room for a book.’

‘I don’t mean just now. I mean generally. I don’t think it’s very good for the morale of chambers.’

‘Leo, as I recall, it was only a year or so ago that you delicately hinted to me that having too close a relationship with Anthony might jeopardise my chances of a tenancy. Of course it has crossed my mind since then that perhaps you were just trying to scare me off Anthony for reasons of
your own.’ She paused. ‘Very personal ones.’ Leo turned abruptly and walked to the window. Camilla could tell this had hit home. ‘So, naturally, I don’t take very kindly to any suggestions from you as to how I should conduct relationships with other people in chambers.’

Leo was forcibly struck, not just by her perspicacity, but by the calm and deadly manner in which this little speech was uttered. She certainly knew how to deliver. When, after a few seconds, Leo had regained his composure, he turned to face her with a smile, leaning against the windowsill with his hands in his pockets.

‘You’re quite formidable, Miss Lawrence. I apologise for my impertinence.’

Something in his eyes made Camilla colour slightly and look away. It had taken more nerve than Leo knew to say what she had said. Added to which, she now spent much time smothering the feelings which she harboured for Leo, and which had grown in her, despite her own emotional resistance, over the last year or so. She almost despised herself for the weakness of it. It was as though no one was able to escape his fatal charm. She turned her attention to the papers before her.

Leo considered her, the soft abundance of her reddish hair, the paleness of her skin. Pretty girl. He wondered what she was like in bed, what kind of lover Anthony had found her to be … no, he decided. Better not. Too unprofessional, with the case coming up. She wasn’t really his type. He knew enough by now to realise that it was probably just the spark of her hostility which had faintly aroused him. Nothing more.