by Caro Fraser
They went through to Lola’s closet and spent some time culling Lola’s vast wardrobe of items bought in her many optimistic moments. ‘There you are,’ said Lola to Irina, who stood with heaps of garments over either arm. ‘The triumph of hope over experience, that lot.’
‘For me?’ asked Irina.
‘Most definitely. I’ll find you a suitcase to take them all back home in.’
She glanced at the rails of her closet. ‘All I have to do now is go shopping and fill the gaps.’
‘What are you going to do about Leo?’ asked Lola, when they were back on the sofa once more.
‘I don’t know,’ said Anthea. ‘Do you really think it’s possible Lucy was making it all up?’
‘Darling, she’s admitted it!’
‘Not to me.’
‘Well, that’s why you should talk to her. I’m surprised you ever believed a word she said. Certainly Leo seemed pretty calm about it all. Go and see her.’
‘Yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right, I will.’ She picked up her bag and her jacket. ‘What are you two going to do?’
‘Have supper, Ukrainian style. Irina is going to make nalysnyky – that’s crêpes. Possibly accompanied by some chilled horilka.’
‘Horilka?’
‘Vodka – what else?’
‘Crepes and vodka. Yuck.’ She turned and smiled at Irina. ‘Well, look, if I don’t see you again – best of luck.’ She leant down and gave Irina two light, fragrant kisses, then went home to try to comb out the tangles of her love life.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Anthea went round to South Kensington and found Lucy at home alone, as usual, dressed in an old pair of combats, a baggy sweatshirt, and slipper socks.
‘Where’s Mother?’ asked Anthea.
‘She’s out with her new man.’ Lucy regarded Anthea with sullen apprehension. She’d been meaning to talk to her, after the things Leo had said, but she hadn’t had the guts. It looked as though there was no avoiding it now.
Anthea folded her arms and gazed at Lucy. ‘I understand you have something to tell me.’
Lucy said nothing, but turned and padded through to the kitchen. Anthea followed her. Lucy perched on a stool at the breakfast bar and began to pick at a bowl of nuts.
‘Well?’ asked Anthea.
Lucy glanced at her sister, wishing she didn’t have to stand there looking so bloody immaculate, all tall and sleek and lovely, giving her dagger looks, waiting. She toyed briefly with the idea of sticking to her original lie, but the idea faded as quickly as it had come. She shoved a hazelnut in her mouth and said, ‘That stuff I told you about me and Leo, it wasn’t true.’
‘I can’t hear you, mumbling with your mouth full of nuts.’
Lucy swallowed. ‘I didn’t sleep with Leo.’
Anthea took a deep breath and sat down on a stool at the breakfast bar next to Lucy. ‘I see. Well, that’s a start. But something happened. I want to know what, exactly.’
Lucy slumped forward, elbows on the breakfast bar, and gave a groaning sigh. After a moment she said, ‘I got pissed at a club. Mum was away, and so were you. Georgia found Leo’s number on my mobile and rang him, asked him to come and get me.’
‘How did you happen to have his number?’
‘I don’t know. I just did.’ Lucy paused. ‘Actually,’ she admitted, ‘I got it off your phone.’
‘Why?’
Lucy shrugged. ‘I dunno.’
There was a long silence, at the end of which Anthea said, ‘Did you set it up? Did you deliberately get Leo to take you back to his house?’
Lucy leant her chin on her forearms. This was so humiliating. She frowned at the bowl of nuts, unable to look at Anthea. ‘No. Sort of.’
‘I think I’m beginning to understand.’ There was another long silence, during which Anthea tapped her long nails on the breakfast counter.
Suddenly Lucy said, in a low, sulky voice, ‘And I only knew what his sheets and stuff were like because I went and had a look. OK?’
Appalled though Anthea was at the thought that Lucy had deliberately set out to seduce Leo, she also felt a little sorry for the kid, being so infatuated and going to such lengths. And all for nothing. She felt dreadful that she hadn’t believed Leo, but immensely relieved that Lucy had made it all up. There was definitely something about Leo which had made it all horribly believable.
‘Lucy, you’ve made so much trouble – do you know that?’ Anthea sounded sad and exasperated, rather than angry.
Tears welled up in Lucy’s eyes, and she wiped them on her sweatshirt sleeve. ‘Soz,’ she mumbled. ‘Sorry. Whatever.’
Anthea got up and went to make coffee for them both. She came back to the breakfast bar and set a cup down in front of Lucy, who was still sitting in her attitude of utter abjection. ‘Look,’ said Anthea, ‘the best thing is if we both forget all about it. It was a stupid thing to do, and a stupid lie to tell, but I don’t think you’ll ever do anything like it again. Will you?’
Lucy shook her head.
They sipped their coffee in silence for a few moments, then Anthea said, ‘So, do you want to tell me how everything’s going at school?’
For half an hour Lucy let Anthea play the role of concerned, caring older sister, until a kindly balance had been restored – one in which Anthea felt pretty much back in control, and Lucy’s sense of humiliation had receded.
‘I have to go,’ said Anthea, when she had finished her coffee.
She was going to see Leo, Lucy knew, and they were going to talk about her and the lies she’d told. The thought was utterly mortifying. ‘Listen,’ she said, following Anthea to the front door, ‘don’t talk about me to Leo – OK? I can’t bear the idea. I mean, I’m really sorry and everything. Please don’t.’
‘Oh, heavens,’ said Anthea, running her fingers lightly through Lucy’s messy hair as she gazed at her. ‘Look at you. Your hair’s a mess, your clothes look awful. How would you like to come up to town with me next week, and have a makeover? Oh, and I can blag some tickets for London Fashion Week, if you and Georgia want to come. Would you like that?’
Lucy smiled and nodded. ‘And Ant?’ she said, as Anthea opened the door.
‘What?’
‘Can I still come round to yours after school sometimes?’
‘Sometimes. But only if you leave my vodka alone. Promise?’
‘Promise.’
Anthea dug in her bag. ‘Here’s your key back. And be good from now on.’
Lucy nodded. She watched Anthea go, then closed the door and went to ring Georgia and tell her the good news about the tickets for London Fashion Week.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
During the time that Anthea was at Lola’s and then with Lucy, Leo and Anthony had gone for a drink, and on to dinner. Leo was in a strange mood. Relief from anxiety had produced a sense of recklessness, but at the same time Maurice’s resignation and the defection of Roger and others had left him feeling disturbed and uneasy. He needed a means of escape from himself and his preoccupations. He downed a large Scotch, and he and Anthony shared a couple of bottles of Gevrey-Chambertin Premier Cru over dinner, and had a long, intense conversation on a rambling range of topics, from Welsh rugby to the comparative merits of Eric Clapton and Carlos Santana. By half nine Leo was feeling utterly relaxed, a little drunk and powerfully aware of a restored sense of intimacy between himself and Anthony.
‘We haven’t done this in a long time,’ said Leo. ‘I can’t remember the last occasion we had dinner together.’
‘Neither can I. But I can tell you something else we haven’t done for a while – and that’s have a game of squash. I’m seriously out of condition.’
‘Let’s book one for next week. Stephen and I played a couple of games the week before last,’ said Leo, ‘but I simply haven’t had the time since then. A number of pressing preoccupations.’
‘How are things with Rachel?’
‘As regards Oliver, you mean
?’ Leo signalled to the waiter for the bill. ‘Fine. We had lunch, sorted a few things out. I’m supposed to have him this weekend, but she’s taking him to some friends in Hampshire tomorrow. I’ll have him on Sunday.’ He thought about that afternoon that Viktor Kroitor had turned up at Oliver’s school, and reflected that things might have been very different if she’d found out about that. He had to trust that Viktor Kroitor would stick to their deal. ‘The one thing which could have swung me towards joining Roger and the others was the idea that I might have more time to spend with Oliver. But I’m going to make a greater effort to do more work away from chambers in future.’
The bill arrived, and Leo picked it up.
‘Please,’ said Anthony, ‘can we split it?’
‘No, I’ll get this. I’d like to. Reminds me of the days when you were a penniless pupil, and it was my great delight to take you out and buy you decent dinners and the odd glass of wine.’
‘I was easily impressed.’
‘I should hope you still are.’
Leo paid the bill and they left the restaurant. As they walked to the street corner on the lookout for taxis, Leo was suddenly conscious that he didn’t want Anthony to go just yet. ‘It’s early,’ he said. ‘Come back for coffee. You still haven’t seen the new place. Not so new any more.’
Anthony hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded. ‘OK.’
At the house Leo made coffee, and poured brandies for both of them. Anthony was studying one of the pieces of art on the wall when Leo handed him his glass.
‘Thanks.’ Anthony took a sip of brandy and pointed at the painting. ‘That reminds me of one you used to have in the house in Oxford. I remember being very struck by it the night I stayed there.’
‘It’s still there. This is a sister piece. How discerning of you to connect them, after all this time.’
‘I remember everything about that visit. Things of that kind make a very deep impression, when one’s young.’
‘One doesn’t have to be young.’ Standing this close to Anthony, Leo was suddenly aware of profound and overwhelming desire. The familiar lines of the young man’s body and face as he gazed at the painting made Leo want to reach out and touch him. Just half an hour ago in the restaurant he’d been reflecting on the necessity of maintaining a tidy private life for the satisfaction of Rachel, and ensuring the continuity of his contact with Oliver. Now such considerations vanished utterly. He lifted his hand and his fingers grazed Anthony’s neck. Anthony turned and met his gaze. ‘It never stops,’ said Leo quietly.
‘I know.’ Anthony dipped his head slightly to let Leo’s hand touch his face, keeping his eyes fixed on Leo’s.
The sense of physicality between them was intense. ‘This is something else we haven’t done in a long time,’ said Leo.
Anthony put up his hand to grasp Leo’s. ‘I’ll never forget what you said after last time. Never. You said – your very words were, “It’s only sex.” That was all it was for you. But it has to be about more than that, Leo.’
‘It’s always been about more, where you’re concerned. I was just too afraid to admit it.’
After she left Lucy, Anthea rang Leo’s mobile a couple of times, but got no reply. She thought of leaving a message, but in the circumstances it was hard to know what to say. She took a taxi home, ran a bath, lit some candles, and lay soaking and exfoliating, and fantasising about seeing Leo later. She’d get him on his mobile eventually, and then he’d come round, and they would have the most wonderful sex – making-up sex was always the best – and everything would be perfect again. She could pick up where she’d left off in the tricky process of making herself and Leo an item of greater permanence.
When the fantasies and the hot water had dried up, Anthea got out, towelled herself down, stroked on some very subtle Jo Malone body lotion, and put on a simple silk caftan, which clung to her slender body in all the right places when she moved, and would be deliciously easy for Leo to take off. Glancing at the bedside clock, she saw it was a little after half ten. She went to her bag, fished out her phone, and tried Leo’s mobile number again.
Leo’s mobile phone was in his briefcase on the other side of the room. He could hear its insistent tone from where he stood, next to Anthony.
‘Hadn’t you better answer it?’ asked Anthony, relinquishing Leo’s hand. ‘It might be important.’
Leo crossed the room and took out the phone. He saw Anthea’s name on the screen, and for a moment was tempted not to answer it. But he knew she’d only ring till she got him. Better now than later.
‘Anthea?’
‘Hi.’ Her voice sounded apprehensive. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You sound a bit edgy.’
‘Just a little tired. It’s been a difficult week.’
‘Darling, I’m sorry. I know that’s partly been my fault. I spoke to Lucy tonight. I know what happened, and I’m so, so sorry. She’s a little witch. I should never have believed her.’
‘That’s all right. It doesn’t matter.’
‘No, but I said all those dreadful things. Can you forgive me?’
‘I suppose you thought you had good reason. Of course I forgive you. I’m sorry, too – the whole mess was partly my fault.’
‘No, it wasn’t. I blame Lucy entirely – though not for having a crush on you. That’s utterly understandable. But now that it’s all sorted out, I wondered—’ He could hear her smiling on the other end of the phone, her voice teasing and seductive. –‘I wondered if you’d like to come round, and we can make up properly. In bed.’
Leo glanced across the room at Anthony. ‘The thing is, Anthea, I’m really exhausted. We’ve had some problems in chambers, a few late meetings, that kind of thing—’
‘So that’s why I couldn’t get hold of you. In which case, you definitely need me to soothe it all away. You must be dying to see me – I know I’m absolutely aching for you.’ And she went on to describe exactly how she felt, what she was wearing, what she wanted to do – till in the end Leo had to stop her.
‘Seriously, I’d love to. But I think the best thing I can do is get a good night’s sleep.’
‘Oh.’ She sounded a little piqued. ‘Oh well, if that’s what you think. Still’ – her voice softened – ‘if you change your mind, I’m here all night.’
‘OK. Look, I’ll call you soon.’ He paused. ‘Night.’ Leo switched his phone off. He didn’t want any more calls.
Anthony was watching him from the other side of the room. ‘Your girlfriend?’
‘Yes.’
Anthony crossed the room, and Leo took his face between his hands and kissed him for a long, long moment.
Anthea chucked the phone onto the bed with a little sigh of disappointment. Leo really had sounded tired – a bit out of it, in fact. Probably just as well he wasn’t coming over. It might all have been a bit of an anticlimax. Better to wait till he’d recharged his batteries. She flopped onto the bed, propped herself up on some pillows, and clicked on the TV with the remote. She was pretty tired herself. She lay idly watching Jonathan Ross, reflecting on the brief conversation with Leo. She shouldn’t have sounded so keen. She was breaking all the rules she’d set for herself a few weeks ago. More of the hard-to-get-stuff, that was what was needed. The trouble was, it was difficult to play by those rules when you were in love.
CHAPTER FORTY
‘What now?’ asked Leo.
‘What now?’ Anthony drained his coffee cup and reached for his tie. ‘I think we both know the answer to that.’ His tone was pragmatic, but not unkind. ‘We carry on as we always have done. I don’t think there’s any need to make more of it than that, do you?’
Leo leant against the kitchen worktop in his dressing gown, studying Anthony’s face. He could detect nothing in Anthony’s manner of the insecurity and neediness which he had exhibited last time they had been together as lovers. ‘I’m not sure about that any more,’ he replied.
‘Well, I am.
Everything we already have is enough. We see one another just about every day. I can talk to you whenever I want. If we try to turn this into some grand passion, I know where it’ll end. I’ve seen what happens with your relationships, and what you do to people, whether you mean to or not. I don’t intend to let it happen with you and me. Anyway, weren’t you the one who said he never intended to get emotionally entangled with anyone ever again?’
There was a silence, then Leo said, ‘I’d give up a good deal for you, you know.’
‘Well, don’t. That would be fatal. Having one person in your life is never enough for you, Leo. I don’t ever want to be in a position where I feel possessive, or jealous.’
‘You want your freedom.’
Anthony picked up his jacket and slipped it on, hesitating before he spoke. ‘Yes. Yes, if you like – that’s what I want.’
Leo walked with Anthony to the front door. He smiled sadly. ‘You’ve grown up a lot.’
‘I had to.’
‘I had the idea we could have spent the day together, maybe—’
‘No, that’s not a good idea. Anyway, I have a few things to do. I’m sure you do, too. I’ll see you on Monday.’
Leo, as he shaved and showered later, reflected on the things he needed to do that day. Book a flight for Irina, give her her passport, take her to the airport, and impress upon her that if she wanted to do anything about Viktor Kroitor, she should do it in Ukraine. He would have to thank Lola, too. And he would have to see Anthea, or talk to her, at any rate.
‘No, really – I’ve got four, and I don’t need them all. Take it!’ Against Irina’s protests, Lola had packed all the clothes she’d given Irina into an extremely expensive Louis Vuitton Pegase 60 suitcase. She zipped it up and trundled it into the living room. ‘There. Now, Leo’s going to be here in a few minutes. He’s got your ticket and your passport, and he’ll take you to the airport. OK?’
