A Perfect Obsession (16 page)

Anthony let the waiter fill his champagne glass for the sixth time. He was beginning to feel pretty drunk, and he didn’t care. He had spent the last forty-five minutes with Edward, his friend Tristram, and an excitable bevy of young women who all seemed to know Edward and Tristram from somewhere, and their mood of hilarity had failed to infect him. The girls were all very pretty, all apparently unattached, and he suspected that he could have picked up any one of them if he’d wanted to. The fact was, he didn’t. For the hundredth time his eye sought out Leo. He had seen him moving round the gallery throughout the
evening, clearly bound up in his own thoughts. On the one occasion when Anthony had approached him to talk, he had stopped for only a moment before excusing himself and moving on. Nursing a feeling of rejection, Anthony had watched him obsessively ever since. Why did it always come down to Leo? Why couldn’t he just ignore the man and concentrate on enjoying himself? He could see Leo now, standing with Tony Gear and some dark-haired man, extremely good-looking and slightly effeminate. Anthony watched the way the man’s lazy, amused gaze rested closely on Leo’s features as Leo talked. He liked Leo, that much Anthony could tell. He looked gay, too – probably wanted him. Would probably have him – if Leo’s track record was anything to go by. lust the thing to round off Leo’s evening. Anthony knocked back his champagne, hating his own train of thought, trying to define the emotion that filled him.

Jealousy, that was what it was. He stared morosely at his empty glass. Christ, I’m a mess, he thought.

‘Cheer up, Tony – you’re a boring bugger this evening,’ remarked Edward. ‘We were all just thinking of going off for a spot of clubbing. What do you say? That might liven you up a bit.’

Anthony glanced at Edward, then at the girls. ‘No, I won’t come, thanks. It’s Dad’s big evening, so I’d better stay.’

Edward shrugged. ‘OK. Come on, girls, let’s get going. Where’s Tristram? He’s got my car keys …’ Edward wandered off, girls in tow.

Ten minutes later, Tony Gear was whisked away by his minions for an important vote in the House, leaving Leo and Gideon together.

‘Is that Chay Cross?’ asked Gideon, as Chay passed them, leading Ronnie Wood towards the video installations. ‘Perhaps you should introduce us. Maybe we could have a useful chat about that funding he’s after.’

‘Certainly,’ said Leo.

They followed Chay through, and Leo introduced Gideon. After a few moments, Leo saw Melissa in the offing and excused himself. Gideon set to work on Chay in his most accomplished fashion, and soon Chay, flattered and beguiled, was taking Gideon on a tour of the museum.

Gideon paused in one of the smaller side rooms, hung with only eight exhibits by mediocre contemporary artists, on loosely connected themes. ‘I suppose you find this kind of space rather harder to fill,’ he remarked.

‘You’re right,’ agreed Chay. ‘Proportion is a problem. Most of our exhibits are too large for these rooms. Of course, this is just temporary …’

Gideon gazed around reflectively. ‘What would be ideal in a room like this would be works by an artist such as Lehrman – you know, someone who worked to a small format.’

‘Oh, he’d be perfect. We have one of his works in another room, and two sculptures. I’d love to have a room devoted to his work. The trouble is, he didn’t produce a lot, and he’s hard to come by.’

Gideon smiled, rested an elbow on one hand, and tapped his chin thoughtfully. ‘The reason I mention his name is
that I have a friend, a dealer, who tells me that a number of Lehrmans may be coming on to the market soon. Would the museum be interested in acquiring them, do you think? My friend would take a commission, of course.’

‘More than interested,’ replied Chay, returning Gideon’s smile. He understood that Gideon, somewhere along the line, would have to make something on the deal, no doubt in return for expediting the matter of the extra funding. If it meant that the museum would acquire enough Lehrmans to fill one of the smaller rooms, Chay was happy to go along.

‘Good,’ said Gideon. Now it was just a matter of bringing Leo round, and then the fun would follow.

It was well past midnight when Leo decided to leave. He realised then, with a sinking heart, that it might have been more sensible to speak to Melissa earlier, before she’d started knocking back the champagne. She seemed pretty tight, which increased the chances of a scene. He hesitated. Damn the woman – why did he feel he had to speak to her personally? He would put the thing in the post along with a terse letter on chambers paper. The less contact he had with her the better.

He said goodnight to Chay; they congratulated one another mutually on the success of the evening. ‘I just hope the paying public like it as much,’ said Chay.

‘Marvellous hang, Chay, darling!’ exclaimed a departing woman, blowing him a kiss. Chay blew one in return.

‘I think the critics like it, from what I could overhear,’ said Leo.

‘D’you think so?’ Chay blinked anxiously behind his glasses.

‘Yes, I do. See you soon. Well done.’

Leo went through the foyer, letting a small crowd of guests go out ahead of him, while he paused to light a cigar. He stepped out into the cold night air, and smoked for a few seconds.

The hand on his arm was gentle, then instantly forceful. He smelt her scent before her breathy voice murmured in his ear, ‘I’ve been trying to get you alone all evening, Leo.’

Leo turned, trying to ease her hand from his arm. ‘I made it clear that I don’t want anything to do with you,’ he said evenly. He reached into his breast pocket and drew out the tiepin in its loose wrapping, and her letter. ‘And I certainly don’t want this kind of thing. Take it back and don’t pester me any more.’

Melissa merely smiled and shook her head. ‘Darling, I know you don’t mean that. Don’t be embarrassed. I want you to have it. It means so much to me. You just have to give these things time. It will happen between us. I know it will. It nearly did, after all …’

‘Get this clear. I don’t want you. I don’t like you. I don’t want you anywhere near me—’

‘Nonsense, Leo.’ Her voice grew suddenly hard. ‘You’re not listening. You just don’t listen, do you? It’s going to happen! You have no choice. It’s such a mistake to make me angry. Why can’t you see that?’ Her tone became wheedling. ‘Why not be nice about it?’

She brought her face so close to his that he could see the glitter of her eyes and smell the stale champagne on her breath. She held both his arms in her hands, and he tried to push her away. But, letting go of his arms, she suddenly
grasped both his hands between hers and squeezed. He could feel her nails digging into his flesh, and gasped aloud at the pain. She pressed harder, astonishing him by her strength, and clamped her mouth against his, kissing him as though she would suck the life from him.

With a violent effort he pulled her hands apart with his own, and slapped her swiftly, once, across the face. The blow was light, but effective enough to stop her.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Leo, grasping her by one wrist and turning her towards the entrance to the museum. ‘I’m sorry. But you have to understand, this stops now. If I ever, hear from you again, if you ever speak to me, I shall go to the police.’ He thrust her into the foyer and she staggered forward a little. People were making their way out. Melissa glanced round at him, her expression one of uncertainty mixed with pure venom, then moved through the foyer and back into the museum. Leo leant against the wall in relief. He glanced down at his hands, at the stinging, red indentations where her nails had dug into his flesh. Another twenty seconds of that and she’d have drawn blood. Mad bitch. This couldn’t go on. He realised that anything he said to her was probably ineffectual. She was unhinged. That was the only explanation. Well, he’d just have to deal with it as it went along. If it meant involving the police, he had no qualms.

Standing in the foyer, he caught sight of Anthony coming through from the gallery. He looked as though he’d had rather too much to drink. Leo put out a hand to touch his shoulder as he passed.

‘How are you getting home?’ he asked.

Anthony shrugged. ‘Find a taxi, I suppose.’

‘That’s not going to be easy at this time of night. I’ll give you a lift.’

They walked together through the gate and into the darkened street. After a short interval, Anthony turned to Leo. ‘Aren’t you taking your boyfriend home?’

Leo realised Anthony was more than a little drunk. He sighed. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘That man I saw you with earlier. Very cosy. Is he your type, then?’

They reached Leo’s car. Leo unlocked it and gestured to Anthony to get in. Anthony did so, clumsily, wearily.

Leo got in and put the key in the ignition. ‘Why don’t you come back to my place and have some coffee, and get it all off your mind?’

Anthony gave a careless, tipsy shrug. He said nothing for the rest of the journey, as Leo drove through the quiet streets to Belgravia.

In the flat, Leo snapped on lights and went into the kitchen to make Anthony some coffee. Anthony leant against the sink and watched him, his dark eyes cloudy, his hair rumpled. Leo handed him a mug of black coffee. ‘D’you want to go through to the drawing room?’ he asked.

Anthony shook his head. ‘I’m fine here.’

‘At least sit down.’

Anthony shook his head again. Leo couldn’t fathom his resentment. He went through to pour himself a small Scotch, then came back to the kitchen and sat down at the table.

‘So, what’s up? What on earth were you talking about before we got in the car?’

Anthony swallowed some of his coffee. It was some seconds before he spoke. He felt less drunk now. The ride back had helped to sober him up. He wasn’t sure if he should say any of this. But if he didn’t do it now, the thing would just go on and on. ‘That man you were talking to for half the evening. The good-looking one. I saw the way you were together.’

‘What conclusion did you reach?’

Anthony shrugged. ‘I guessed it was some kind of pick up. I mean, the way you usually carry on, it’s a fair assumption, isn’t it?’

‘Not really, no.’ Leo was bemused by the patent hostility. He had his own idea of what lay behind it, but it was something Anthony was going to have to face up to on his own. ‘I do have normal friendships, involving ordinary conversations.’

‘I know that!’ burst out Anthony. ‘Of course I bloody know that! It’s stupid, isn’t it, imagining that every man you talk to is some potential lover? But I can’t help it! God, it doesn’t just have to be men either, does it? I mean, it could be anyone!’ He spread his arms out, slopping coffee on to the floor.

‘What on earth are you so angry about?’

‘I’m angry because—’ Anthony closed his eyes for a brief second, then spoke with an effort. ‘Because I’m jealous. Because I don’t want anyone to be that close to you.’

Leo rose from his chair and came over to Anthony.

Time to lay this demon to rest. It was four years now, after all. ‘Look at me,’ he said. Anthony’s eyes met his. ‘You know I love you. I’ve told you that before. I love you as a
friend, and I could love you in every other way, if that were possible. It’s entirely up to you.’

Anthony felt a tremble of desire shake him, then fear. He put out his arms and held Leo, feeling him move against him, his body warm and close. He felt a peaceful longing – for what, he didn’t know. For an end to this uncertainty, a salve for his unhappiness.

‘Let me stay,’ he asked.

‘Of course,’ said Leo. The flame of promise had flickered into life at last, but even at that moment Leo’s mind ranged around the problems, finding no answers. Time enough for that, he decided, and kissed Anthony on the mouth with gentle finality.

Anthony lay in Leo’s bed, listening to the sounds of the morning, his mind moving over the last few hours. He had no sense of transgression, of having moved from one sphere of sexuality to another. He could see now how easy it was for Leo to be as he was. Well, if not easy, at any rate explicable. The limits of desire were non-existent. That was the theory. For himself, he thought he had come as far as he wanted, and need go no further. Leo was all he needed.

Leo came through from the shower, a large towel knotted round his waist, hair slick and wet. He opened the long closet at the end of the room and began to pull out clothes for the day. He glanced at Anthony; who had rolled on to his back and was stretching his arms.

‘There’s coffee in the kitchen, if you want some.’

Anthony clasped his hands behind his head and watched as Leo dressed. ‘I’ll get up in a minute.’

‘Don’t leave it too long. I have to pick up Oliver in an hour.’

Anthony’s disappointment was sudden and acute. ‘I didn’t realise. I’d hoped we could spend the day together.’

‘I’m afraid this is where my life gets complicated.’ Leo sat on the end of the bed and put on his shoes.

‘It doesn’t have to be complicated. I’m happy to help with Oliver. I’d just like to be with you.’

Leo said nothing for a moment. ‘Anthony, it doesn’t work like that. Oliver is a separate part of my life, one I don’t intend to mix up with lovers.’ Even as he said this, Leo was well aware of the hypocrisy of it. After all, hadn’t Sarah spent a weekend at Stanton with him and Oliver? So what was the difference? It was too subtle for him to articulate. It was to do with the knowledge that while Rachel would not – could not – object to women friends, she would draw the line at Oliver being exposed to any men in Leo’s life. The access arrangements which existed in relation to Oliver were a concession on her part. There had been a time when, during their arguments over access, she had been prepared to expose Leo’s lifestyle in court. She had relented, it had never gone to court, but Leo couldn’t afford to jeopardise things by having male lovers on the scene. The time he spent with Oliver was too precious to risk.

‘It makes that much difference?’ asked Anthony. Leo nodded. He was about to stand up when Anthony laid a hand on his arm. ‘You make me feel like all this means nothing to you.’

Leo put a hand over Anthony’s. ‘That’s not true. It’s
just that I have to leave in half an hour.’ He hesitated, wondering if he’d been wise to allow Anthony to stay last night. He saw that Anthony was ready to invest a great deal in this new development in their relationship. That was not necessarily a good thing for either of them. The pleasures of the moment were so easy to take, but he should have given greater thought to the consequences. ‘This kind of involvement isn’t straightforward, you know. You haven’t thought it through. I don’t think I had, really,’ Leo sighed.

‘You sound as though you regret it.’ Leo said nothing, and Anthony added, ‘What about the boy you were living with a year ago? How is it different from that?’ There was a resentful edge to his voice.

‘It’s different in all kinds of ways. You and I work together. There’s a status quo we have to respect, professionally. Besides,’ he turned and met Anthony’s gaze directly, ‘I’m not asking you to move in with me.’

‘I know that. That’s not what I meant. But I feel as though I’m being treated like a one-night stand.’

Leo rose, exasperated. ‘Look, last night was your idea as much as mine. I don’t think I understand what it is you expect all of a sudden. I have a great deal of affection for you—’

‘Last night it was love.’

‘Fine. OK. Call it what you like. But you can’t expect me to start building my life around you. It’s very complex, this kind of thing.’

‘So you keep saying. I just had the idea that I was important to you. That we were important. Or could be.’

‘Maybe we can,’ said Leo patiently. ‘Unfortunately, the
disparate aspects of my life don’t all necessarily fit together easily at the moment.’

‘So it’s a question of priorities.’

‘If you like. And at the moment, Oliver is my priority. Please try and understand.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’ll have to go. Make yourself breakfast, whatever you like. Set the alarm on the way out. Here’s the code.’ Leo scribbled a number down on the pad by the bed. He took a jacket from the closet. ‘Oh, and don’t forget to switch the coffee off before you go. I’ll see you on Monday.’

Anthony lay in Leo’s bed, letting the silence of the flat settle around him. So this was what it was like to be one of Leo’s acquisitions. Important, needed, desired one moment, then dispensed with the next. He should have seen the pattern. No one was ever important to Leo for long. Not even Rachel, his wife. She’d simply been discarded as soon as she’d served her function of shoring up his ramshackle sexual reputation to enable Leo to become a QC. Anthony had known for a long time that, all things being equal, he was someone Leo desired. He’d just never let it happen. Now that it had, could he really be sure that the love he’d always imagined existed between himself and Leo was of any substance at all?

He lay back on the pillows, tormented. He’d thought this would seal everything, make sense of his life. If anything, he felt more confused than before. How did anyone gain Leo’s love and attention? What had that boy Joshua done to reduce Leo to a state of dependence? He had been indifferent. Maybe that was the secret. Leo didn’t want to be needed. Reflecting on this, he could see that the
conversation Leo and he had just had was a mistake. If there was to be any hope of keeping Leo in his life and heart, he must not betray himself. Game playing. All love affairs seemed to be about that. Very well, if it meant hardening his spirit and affecting not to care, then he would do it. He would do anything to hold on to Leo.

On the other side of the city, Felicity was waking to her own misgivings. She lay in bed for a few moments, assessing the situation, thinking guiltily of Vince. Not that Vince was the only problem. What if it had been a huge mistake to let Peter stay over on the first night they’d gone out together? What if he’d only wanted to get her into bed, and that would be the end of it? Her heart dipped painfully at the thought of it. She liked him so much: that smile of his that dissolved her insides, the sophistication of him compared to Vince, the way he took an interest in her, understood her life. They shared things. Last night had been wonderful. Not just the sex, which was great, but the whole evening. Vince would never have taken her to that trendy bar, and then to dinner at Nobu. He wouldn’t know those places existed. She knew it was unfair to think that way, because Vince never had any money when he was on the outside, so what could she expect? Mind you, she didn’t really go much for Japanese food. But that hadn’t been the point. She had felt special, someone wanted to impress her, to see she enjoyed herself. She’d never had that from any bloke before.

She snuggled further under the covers, yawning. Peter came into the bedroom, a mug of tea in hand. He was already dressed.

‘You don’t have to go yet, do you?’ asked Felicity, hastily smoothing down her rumpled curls and hoping she didn’t look too God-awful without make up.

Peter sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her. ‘I do, I’m afraid. I play football on Saturday mornings, and we’ve got a league match at ten. Can’t let the side down.’

Felicity sipped the tea, then put it on the bedside table. She’d have to tell him she took it with sugar. ‘Can I come and watch you?’

‘You don’t want to waste your morning doing that. Besides, it’s way over in Morden, and I’ve got to pick a mate up in Wimbledon. In fact, I’d better get going.’

Felicity longed to ask when she’d see him next, but she knew that wasn’t the cool thing to do. In fact, asking if she could go and watch him play football had been distinctly uncool, she realised. She watched as he tied his tie, her gaze moving admiringly across his features. She still couldn’t decide whether the blond streaks in his hair were natural.

‘By the way,’ said Peter, ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed the shaving stuff in the bathroom.’

Felicity shook her head. She’d told him about Vince, but it didn’t seem to worry him. In fact, she wished it had bothered him more. So why did she feel so small when he obliquely brought up the subject? Guilt, guilt. She had nothing to feel guilty about.

He came to the bedside and kissed her again.

‘Are you glad you stayed last night?’ Felicity couldn’t help asking.

‘What a daft question. Of course.’ He straightened up. ‘Lunch some time next week?’ The slight uncertainty within
her died away and happiness blossomed. She nodded. ‘OK. I’ll give you a call. Bye.’

She heard the front door close and lay back on the pillow. He wanted to see her again. They were lovers now. Everything had changed. While they were just friends, spending the occasional lunchtime together, there had been no issues to face up to, no decisions to be made. Now it was different. Vince would be on remand for another couple of months, and even after his trial, she knew in her heart of hearts that he was going to get a custodial sentence. That was inevitable. So what was she to do? Tell him now, make his life even worse than it already was, take away any hope for the future? That would be the honest, cruel thing to do. The alternative was to say nothing. Just carry on seeing Peter, knowing that Vince would be none the wiser, and let events take their course. That was dishonest, but it was less painful for everyone.

Anyway, wasn’t she jumping the gun a bit here? She and Peter had slept together once; OK, he said he wanted to see her again, but what if it was all going nowhere? What if two weeks from now, he dumped her? Or she might dump him … No chance of that, thought Felicity ruefully. She wasn’t in love with the guy, but she was quite smitten. He was too good to be true. Anyway, the point was, in a few weeks’ time there might be nothing that Vince need know about. Who could say? Even so, she knew already that she and Vince were drifting apart. It wasn’t just Peter. It was the culmination of weeks of thinking. No present, no future. There would come a time when Vince would have to face up to the fact that her life had to move on
without him. But not yet. No point in hurting him yet.

She got out of bed, picked up her mug of tea, and went through to the kitchen to add some sugar, satisfied that she had salved her conscience for the present, at least.

As he drove to Bath, Leo went over in his mind that parting conversation with Anthony. He hadn’t meant to be dismissive or unfeeling. It was simply that he’d woken late, and he’d been in a hurry to pick up Oliver …

No, that was only part of the truth. The rest was more complicated. There had been a time, a few years ago, when Anthony had first arrived in chambers, when the spark between them could have engendered all kinds of possibilities. At that time, Leo himself was a different being, entirely without ties or responsibilities. He had wanted Anthony, not just as a lover, but as part of his life. But that was once upon a time. The years had changed things, even though Anthony might not be able to see it. Last night had happened because it had all gone on too long, something needed to be resolved. If Leo was being completely honest, he had taken advantage of the confusion of Anthony’s feelings to satisfy himself. So now what was he left with?

The traffic up ahead slowed, as cones appeared on the road, blocking off a lane. Leo glanced at the dashboard clock and swore under his breath. He picked up his train of thought again. It was clear from Anthony’s tone and attitude that he expected something from their altered relationship. Of course he did. The step he had taken was probably monumental, for someone of his ambivalence. Not that Anthony had any clear definition of what his expectations
were – yet. Exclusivity would be part of it. Leo tapped the wheel impatiently, glancing again at the clock. The kind of relationship he and Anthony had already established made it impossible for Anthony to view what had happened in terms of a casual encounter, yet Leo knew that he himself wanted it to be no more than that. For him it was merely the selfish satisfaction of a long-held desire. Things had changed much in the years since that desire had first been born. He had married, he had had a child, his ambitions as a lawyer were gradually being realised, though there was still much further to go. His experiences with Joshua last year had shown him the dangers a hedonistic and uncontrolled lifestyle could pose to his professional existence. And mental stability.

The traffic began to speed up, and Leo sighed in relief. The Aston Martin moved smoothly forward. There was a time when he would willingly have taken Anthony as his live-in lover. That had been at the very beginning. Anthony hadn’t yet been made a tenant at 5 Caper Court. That had been crucial. If it had got about – as it would have – that Leo Davies had as his lover a junior tenant in the same chambers, he would have been finished. Or at any rate, stalled in the professional doldrums for all time. He had even gone so far as to weight the chambers’ vote against Anthony and in favour of his rival for the tenancy, Edward Choke, to achieve his desires. As it turned out, it hadn’t happened. Nothing had happened – until last night. But the fact was there were things he cared about more than having Anthony in his life. That was the personal and professional truth. And he had no idea how he was going to make this apparent to Anthony without causing him pain.

He pulled off the motorway on to the spur road, and resolved to think no more about it. He would simply have to play it by ear, and hope Anthony’s good sense and professional judgement would prevail.

Melissa had sat in her car on the other side of the square where Leo lived for two hours, waiting for him to appear. She would have waited all morning, if necessary. Not that she had any real idea of what it was she intended to do. When he emerged from the door of the building, she felt galvanised, as though electricity were threading through her veins. She watched alertly as he went round the corner, fishing keys from the pocket of the battered leather jacket he wore. He must be going to fetch his car from the garage. She waited. After a few moments she saw the sleek shape of the silver Aston Martin emerge from the mews, and pull out to the left. Her fingers shaking with excitement, she turned the ignition and drove round the square until she was following some way behind. She let a car waiting at a junction slip ahead of her into the queue of traffic, so that she would not be directly behind Leo’s car, then followed him carefully through the streets of Knightsbridge, heading in a westerly direction.