A Perfect Obsession (22 page)

‘That’s what I wanted to talk about. I’m afraid I’ll be resigning from the trust, too.’

‘I see … well, that’s a disappointment. Why?’

Leo’s mind hovered over the possibility of fobbing Chay
off with some excuse about the museum taking up too much time, given his other commitments, but he knew it wouldn’t wash. The fact was, the museum was very little trouble to him. Might as well just give him the truth. ‘To be honest, it’s to do with personal problems between myself and Melissa Angelicos. She’s become something of a thorn in my side. So much so that I’m having to take legal steps. This is strictly between ourselves, you understand. Anyway, the upshot is that I simply can’t continue to have any kind of contact with her. So I’m afraid I have to give up being a trustee. I’m sorry to have to do it because I’ve enjoyed being associated with the museum. I really have.’

‘Well, if it’s a serious problem, and it sounds like it is, I appreciate your position. That Melissa is an odd woman, isn’t she? I believe she’s been having a few problems lately. That new arts interview series of hers isn’t going to be repeated – mind you, it was a bit of a disaster. And I gather
Open Space
may have breathed its last. I suppose the format had become dated. That leaves her with just the odd bit of journalism to fall back on. I can’t see her being given another arts programme at her age. It must be pretty awful suddenly to turn into yesterday’s news. But that’s television for you.’

‘I didn’t know any of that,’ said Leo. No doubt it had all contributed to the way she’d been behaving. If he wasn’t her victim, Leo might even have felt sorry for her. ‘Anyway, as I say, I’m sorry to have to give it up, but it can’t be helped. Anthony will sort out all the necessary details. I’ll still take a very active interest in the museum’s progress, though.’

‘Good. Things are going from strength to strength.
You’ll have to drop in and have a look at some of our new acquisitions. They’re very exciting.’

‘I’ll do that,’ said Leo. ‘Perhaps in a couple of weeks.’ He thought of Caspar. One of their mutual interests had always been modern art. ‘I have an American friend who’s in town on business for a while, and I’d very much like him to see the museum.’

‘Let me know when you’re coming, and I’ll try to be there.’

When the call was ended, Leo sat back in his chair and stretched his arms. He thought suddenly about Camilla, and with a touch of guilt. What with one thing and another, he’d hardly spoken more than a few words to her all day. After last night, it wasn’t very good form, he knew. She was very young, after all, and young women, in his experience, could be made to feel very insecure if a new sexual romance wasn’t bolstered by copious attention and emotional reassurance. He dwelt for a few minutes on the pleasures of the previous evening, recalling most vividly of all the extraordinary rush of tenderness he had felt making love to her. Perhaps it had been because she was so very young, so vulnerable and uncertain. He had found intense pleasure in making her surrender all her modesty, her sense of inhibition. That had been delightful. Dwelling on the sensuousness of it, Leo’s hand moved to the phone. Should he call her? It wasn’t too late for her to take a taxi over. His glance strayed to the papers before him and he sighed. No. The final leg of his cross-examination tomorrow of Sir Arnold was too important. Camilla would keep. He switched on the desk lamp and began to work.

Camilla sat on the sofa in her flat, feet tucked up beneath her, watching a repeat of
Friends
and paying hardly any attention. She felt as though some hollow space existed where her heart and stomach should be. She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t think of anything but the fact that he had virtually ignored her all day. The few words he had spoken to her no longer contained any comfort. They were swallowed up by the obvious and overwhelming fact – Leo had no real feelings for her at all. Like an idiot, she had gone out of her way to make herself available – so what did she expect? He’d had what he wanted, and she was left miserable and humiliated. She hadn’t really known, at the start of the day, what she had expected his behaviour to be. Anything but this.

Suddenly the television became a mocking distraction to her misery. She reached for the remote and switched it off. Then she picked up a cushion, buried her face in it and wept. She was glad Jane was out, so that she could give vent to her unhappiness. After a while, when she had cried enough, she put the cushion down and turned the television back on. There was still a chance he might phone. It was only nine-twenty. She sat there until quite late, hoping.

The next morning in chambers, Camilla waited for Leo to come to her room, which he usually did, for a brief discussion of the day ahead. By twenty to ten he still hadn’t appeared, and she picked up her papers and robing bag and went to the clerks’ room.

‘Isn’t Felicity in yet?’ she asked Robert. ‘I wanted to find out what the Listing Officer said about that judicial review.’

‘She won’t be in today, nor most of next week. Her boyfriend’s case is being heard at the Old Bailey.’

‘Oh, I see.’ Poor Felicity. Other people had problems far worse than hers, she supposed. Picking up her robing bag, she set off for court.

Leo was already there in court, arranging his papers and running briskly through the points he intended to put to Sir Arnold that day. He glanced up and smiled at Camilla, but before he could say anything to her, Fred Fenton came over with Lady Henrietta to badger him about tactics.

Mr Justice Olby came in, Fred spirited Lady Henrietta away, and the day’s proceedings began. Camilla concentrated furiously, allowing herself no pause to think about herself and Leo. She even tried not to glance up at him, because he was so painfully wonderful to look at.

When the court adjourned for lunch, Fred, Lady Henrietta and, this time, Sir Stephen Caradog-Browne swooped on Leo and Camilla immediately and commenced a wrangling discussion, which was only halted when Fred proposed a swift meeting at the offices of Nichols & Co to sort things out. Camilla and Leo shared a taxi with Fred; Lady Henrietta and Sir Stephen refused to share a cab, and so went separately with their respective Committee cronies. As the meeting got underway, Camilla reflected that Leo was probably glad he didn’t have to be alone with her. There was probably nothing to be said. But how much she had hoped she could have talked to him, just in case.

At the end of the afternoon, when Leo had finished his cross-examination of Sir Arnold, Camilla waited with bated breath to see if someone was going to come and claim Leo’s attention or whether, as on the previous day, he would just make some excuse and leave. But neither of these things happened. They packed up their papers, and Leo said, ‘Thank God that’s over. As it’s Friday, I propose we go and have a drink somewhere before we go back to chambers. What do you say?’

‘You mean with Fred and the others?’

‘Certainly not. Just you and me. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since the other night.’

Camilla’s wild sense of thankfulness didn’t last long. As
they went down in the lift with a handful of other people, it suddenly occurred to her that his words could mean anything. It could be that he’d been thinking things over and wanted to let her down gently. She felt such an agony of nervousness that she could only make monosyllabic replies to Leo’s general remarks about the weather and the traffic as they crossed Chancery Lane to the wine bar.

Once there, Leo found them a snug booth and ordered a bottle of wine.

‘Congratulations. You did a very good job on Sir Arnold,’ said Camilla, as the waitress set down two glasses and opened the bottle. In a way, she thought she would be happier if they simply talked about the case.

‘Thanks,’ said Leo.

‘What do you think the chances are that the Names will win?’ she asked. She already had a good idea of Leo’s views, but she wanted to keep the conversation general. At least, she thought she did.

Leo swallowed some of his wine. ‘At the end of the day, I think Olby will come to the conclusion that Lloyd’s were staggeringly incompetent and that the market was extremely badly run, but not that there was any fraud.’ He sighed. ‘I never like the prospect of losing a case, but this one was pretty hopeless from the outset. Still, I think we’re giving them a run for their money. Conor, of course, seems to be in no doubt that we’ll win. But that’s Conor for you, ever the optimistic Irishman, whereas I am a Welsh pragmatist.’ Camilla smiled and sipped her wine, her heart in her mouth. ‘However,’ went on Leo, ‘I have had enough of that bloody case for now. It wasn’t what I came here to talk about.’

She glanced at him, her expression gently questioning and a little afraid. Leo was forcibly struck by her defencelessness. I should have called her last night, he thought. I should have said something yesterday, even a quiet word earlier on today. ‘Don’t look like that,’ he said.

‘I don’t mean to look like anything. Why do you sound so sad?’ She felt her fear blossom and grow. If that was pity in his eyes, she thought she would die.

‘I’m not sad,’ replied Leo quietly. ‘I’m very happy. I’m happy I’ve found you.’

She wondered if the exhilaration which spread through her showed in her face. She felt flooded with it, as though it would spill from her eyes and the corners of her mouth. She had to smile. Not too much. But she had to. ‘I wasn’t sure what you were thinking. All yesterday, and today. I had the idea you regretted it all.’

Leo put out a hand and touched her cheek. ‘Not for one minute. How could you think that? It’s been even more difficult for me, being in court next to you, after Wednesday. I thought about you a great deal last night, you know.’

‘Why didn’t you ring me?’

‘I should have. I’m sorry. Work got in the way. But now all we have to look forward to is Rollason’s re-examination of Sir Arnold, and the closing submissions, which are Conor’s problem. So every evening is at your disposal.’

‘This evening?’ As soon as she’d spoken, she regretted her impulsiveness. It sounded so eager, so uncool.

He hesitated. ‘Not this evening, no. I’m afraid I’m busy – something I arranged some weeks ago.’ Only dinner with Gideon, but he could hardly call off at the last moment.
She nodded, her face stiff, and took a sip of her wine. ‘But if you’re not busy tomorrow night, I’d like to see you. In fact, I must.’

It didn’t even occur to her to prevaricate, to try to make herself more desirable by being unattainable for a few days, as Sarah might have done. She simply smiled and nodded.

‘Good,’ said Leo. ‘What would you like to do?’

‘I don’t mind. Anything. Whatever you like.’

‘Right. Let me think about it. I’ll pick you up around eight. I think I can remember the way. I made a point of memorising your address.’

There were some compliments, thought Camilla, that were quite beautiful in their transparency.

When Leo got back to chambers, Michael stopped him on the stairs. ‘I had lunch with Maurice Faber yesterday. He and the others are definitely leaving 5 Wessex Street, and there’s more than a strong hint that they’d be interested in joining us.’

‘Well, I know Maurice Faber isn’t everyone’s favourite QC, but that’s a very strong body of talent he’d be bringing with him. We really need to expand our field of expertise. Mind you, if we’re going to do anything about it, we’ll have to move fast,’ observed Leo. ‘We won’t be the only chambers interested, and nobody’s particularly gentlemanly about these things nowadays.’

‘That’s why I’m on my way to speak to Roderick about it now.’

When he got home early that evening, Leo ran himself a bath, poured a drink, and rang Rachel.

‘I saw my solicitor yesterday. You weren’t in court today, so I couldn’t tell you. I’ve taken out an injunction against Melissa Angelicos. I should have it by next week.’

‘I see. Well, that’s a start.’

‘What do you mean, a start? Perhaps now you’ll let me see my son. I thought I might take him out on Sunday.’

‘I’m afraid not. Apart from anything else, we’re going to Charles’s sister’s for lunch that day.’

‘What does “apart from anything else” mean?’

‘It means, Leo, that I won’t be happy until you can demonstrate that this injunction is going to have some effect, that she intends to stop pestering us. Charles got a letter from her this morning. Eight pages of lunatic drivel.’

‘Well, Charles is welcome to her.’

‘That’s not funny. You started this—’

‘Started this?’

‘She’s your friend, acquaintance, whatever you want to call it. Until this nonsense ceases, I don’t want Oliver to come to you.’

‘Then at least let me come to see him – to visit, not to take him away.’

Rachel hesitated. ‘Not this Sunday. I told you – we’re going to be out.’

‘Next weekend?’

He could hear her sigh at the other end. ‘I suppose so. I’ll talk to you about it next week. By the way,’ she added, ‘well done with Sir Arnold.’

‘Thanks. I don’t imagine it’s going to do much good at the end of the day.’

Why, Leo wondered, as he put the phone down, was she so reluctant to let him visit the boy? The only answer, he presumed, as he put his drink on the side of the bath, undressed and got in, was that she was a flint-hearted bitch. He sighed, leant back, and closed his eyes. With this problem, too, he would reach a solution.

After she had put the phone down, Rachel sat motionless for a few minutes in her chair. Over the past weeks she had grown accustomed to seeing Leo day after day in court, though his potent effect on her would always remain. What she didn’t want was to have him here, for a few hours perhaps, being with Oliver, seeing them together. It would just reinforce the pain she felt at knowing that they – Leo, herself and Oliver – could never be the family she had wanted them to be. Had been, once, for a brief time. And she didn’t want any situation in which Charles was marginalised, for she had to sustain the belief that she loved Charles. And she did, she truly did. Only not in the way that she went on loving Leo. And hating him.

Gideon had arranged to meet Leo at nine, and had booked a table for two at Tante Claire. Flawlessly dressed in a Richard James suit and a silk Gucci shirt, his dark, curling hair newly cut, enhancing his faun-like appearance, Gideon was in sparkling form. Leo, mentally fatigued after a week spent on his feet in court, was happy to spend most of the evening listening to Gideon’s tales of life in the Ministry for Artistic and Cultural Development, which sounded, by
Gideon’s account, like something from an Evelyn Waugh novel. He did wonder why Gideon had dressed himself so beautifully, and took such pains to amuse him, to scintillate and win approval. Perhaps it was mere habit. Yet, Leo couldn’t help thinking something lay behind it, something he couldn’t yet identify.

‘I hear you’ve been inflicting a good deal of damage on the other side’s witnesses over the past few weeks,’ remarked Gideon, as he ordered another bottle of Chateau Palmer 1983. Whatever losses he and his mother might have suffered on Lloyd’s, thought Leo, Gideon certainly believed in living expensively. Still, if Gideon could afford it, he certainly could. ‘Mother has been marvelling at your skills, though of course she would have liked to cross-examine the entire bunch of reprobates herself.’

‘Really? She was complaining at lunchtime yesterday that I wasn’t “going for the jugular”, as she put it. Not that it’s going to make much difference, I’m afraid.’

‘What do you mean?’ Gideon gave Leo a searching glance. ‘Mother seems quite confident of success. I understand Conor Grimley is as well.’ He motioned to the waiter to replenish their glasses. ‘I must say I am.’

‘Really?’ Although he and Gideon had never discussed the litigation in depth, Gideon’s words surprised him. He had imagined that Gideon lived on a more pragmatic plane than Lady Henrietta and the other Names, and had never supposed that Gideon entertained sanguine hopes of success.

‘Well,’ laughed Gideon, ‘it seems perfectly self-evident that the entire business was a deliberate conspiracy, a
clear case of fraudulent misrepresentation of the asbestosis situation. Just look at the annual accounts!’

‘Oh, I have, believe me,’ murmured Leo.

This clearly irritated Gideon. ‘Don’t sound so cynical. After all, you’re one of our leading counsel. You must believe we’ll win.’

‘You seem to have forgotten your legal training, Gideon. I simply do my job, put your case as advantageously as I can, do my best to destroy that of the other side. Whether I believe you’re right or not is another matter. No, I put that badly. Whether or not Mr Justice Olby thinks you’re right is another matter.’

Gideon drank off the remains of his wine. His eyes glittered. ‘Are you saying you don’t think we’ll win?’

Leo was disconcerted by Gideon’s abrupt change of mood. He lit one of his small cigars, pausing before speaking. ‘You might. Anything is possible. I do like to win the cases I take on.’

‘That’s what you’re fucking well paid for.’

There was a pause. ‘My clerk would certainly regard those as apt words to describe my remuneration,’ replied Leo coolly. ‘But to return to your question about the outcome of the case, you really have to ask yourself why most of the other Names, after the Capstall litigation, settled with Lloyd’s, instead of tackling the very risky business of accusing Lloyd’s of fraud.’

Gideon’s features in repose, and after an immoderate amount of alcohol, were dark and sullen, his eyes a little vicious. ‘You backed us.’

‘I?’ laughed Leo. ‘I was instructed on behalf of the
Names. I took the case because that is my job, and I thought I could do it well, I hope I have. Your mother and the rest of the Committee have always been utterly convinced of the justice of their case. Their conviction, and yours, is guarantee of nothing.’

‘If we don’t win this case,’ said Gideon, ‘the state of my personal finances will be nothing short of disastrous. Do you realise that?’

‘I’m sorry to hear it.’

‘The average losses,’ went on Gideon bitterly, ‘may be in the region of half a million. I haven’t got half a million.’

‘You could have settled for sixty-four thousand,’ Leo reminded him. Gideon said nothing, just stared at his wine glass. ‘Oh, cheer up, man,’ said Leo at last. ‘Nobody knows how things will turn out.’

Gideon met Leo’s eye, and he gave a thoughtful smile. ‘How true. How very true.’ With that, he changed the subject and returned, gradually, to his earlier, cheerful mood.

When the time came to pay the bill, Gideon tendered his card for his half. Leo wondered whether Gideon hoped that he, Leo, would insist on paying for both of them, after Gideon’s remarks about his potentially parlous financial state. But Leo had no intention of doing so. He had seen Gideon at the gaming tables, and had decided that this young man could dispose of his own money as he saw fit.