by Caro Fraser
At the flat in Belgravia, Leo gave Oliver lunch, then took him, plus a ball, down to the communal garden in the middle of the quiet square. The air was still chilly, but the sun was out, and the high plane trees which bordered the garden were in bud. Leo and Oliver kicked the ball around for a few minutes, then Leo sat on a bench, flicking through the Saturday Times, while Oliver squatted on the path and made a careful pile of gravel and twigs, murmuring to himself under his breath as he did so. Every so often Leo would lean down to listen, smiling, but not interrupting. They were perfectly happy.
The sun went behind a cloud. Leo was just wondering whether he should put Oliver’s coat on when a voice interrupted his thoughts.
‘What a very touching pair you make, father and son together.’ He turned and saw Sarah leaning over the railings, wisps of her blonde hair blowing around her face. She smiled. ‘I’ve just been to your flat, found you weren’t in, then saw you in here on the way back to my car.’
‘Come and join us.’
Sarah came through the gate and sat down next to Leo on the bench. ‘So this is Oliver.’ Oliver looked up from his gravel mound at the sound of his name and scrutinised the new arrival. ‘Gosh, isn’t he like you! Same eyes.’
‘Mmm. Cold and calculating. Look, he’s weighing you up.’
Oliver resumed work on the gravel mound.
‘Clearly finds me very boring.’ The sun appeared from behind the clouds again and Sarah leant back and lifted her face towards it, closing her eyes.
‘So what brings you out to see me on a Saturday? You should be out cruising Bond Street and Harvey Nicks, spending the excessive amounts of money we pay you for doing very little.’
‘I came to see you because I had nothing to do, and thought it would be nice to go and have lunch down on the river. Putney, say. Or Kew.’
‘Nothing to do? I would have thought you, of all people, would have several men in tow at the weekends.’
‘I haven’t, as it happens. Not at present.’ Sarah opened her eyes and looked at Leo. ‘What about you?’
Leo hesitated before replying, ‘No. Not just at the moment.’
‘Come and have lunch with me, then. Both of you.’
‘I had been thinking of going down to Stanton with Oliver this afternoon, and staying overnight.’ Sarah said nothing to this, merely waited. Leo hesitated, wondering whether it was a good idea to let Sarah any further into his personal life. She was a potentially dangerous young woman, as he had found out in the past. But time with a toddler, even one as beloved as Oliver, could pass slowly, and there was always the prospect of Sarah’s compliant body later in the evening. On the last occasion they had spent time together, she had turned him down, which had irked him. So he added, ‘Why don’t you come down, too?’
She smiled into his eyes, thinking rapidly. It would mean jettisoning Hugo’s party, and the possibility of Hugo, whom she’d been lusting after for some time. But so what? Long-term strategy was far more important. She delayed replying for some seconds, as though weighing the proposition up. ‘I’d like that,’ she replied at last. ‘I haven’t been to Stanton for a long time.’
‘Good,’ said Leo. ‘Why don’t we set off now? We’ll stop off at a pub on the way there, and you can buy me lunch, as promised. Oliver’s already had his.’ Leo called to Oliver, who bumbled across on chubby legs, allowing himself to be scooped up by his father. ‘Shall we all go in my car?’
‘No, I’ll follow you down. I like my independence.’
‘Fine. I’ll be spared your taste in in-car musical entertainment, which is probably execrable.’
They went back to Leo’s flat, where Leo put together a few belongings, then went to their respective cars. ‘Keep an eye out for the turning to Bamford once we get off the motorway,’ said Leo. ‘There’s a pub there with a garden.’
An hour later, Sarah and Leo were sitting in the deserted garden of a village pub, eating shepherd’s pie and watching as Oliver poked at two mournful rabbits through the wire netting of their cage.
‘God, it’s freezing out here,’ said Sarah, pulling her hands up into the sleeves of her denim jacket.
‘I have to admit it’s better in summer. I found the place last August, when Oliver had just started to walk. At least the animals keep him busy.’ Leo sipped his beer and gave Sarah a speculative glance. ‘I can’t believe you would really choose to spend your Saturday this way. What’s the hidden agenda?’
It was a close touch. She smiled. ‘How typical of you. Always ready to read a motive. I told you – it just so happens I was bored. And you’re fairly amusing company.’
‘Enough to keep you away from your dinner parties and clubs? I think not. And young Oliver’s not exactly the average young woman’s idea of fun. It’s hard work keeping an eighteen-month-old boy and his father amused. He still wakes in the night, sometimes, so you needn’t expect an unbroken sleep, either.’
‘I think I have enough resources to amuse you both,’ replied Sarah. ‘Besides – a good night’s sleep wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.’
Leo raised his eyebrows. ‘Come on, we’d better get going.’
Twenty minutes later, both cars pulled into the gravel driveway of Leo’s country house. Stepping out of her car, Sarah breathed in the clear, chilly air and surveyed her surroundings. The house, of warm, reddish brick, was built in a sprawling L-shape and was surrounded by an acre and a half of lawned garden, fringed with trees. She had always liked it, and the air of tranquillity which the place exuded. It was as though it held the key to some other, hidden part of Leo’s character. Here things were haphazard and comfortable, unlike Leo’s flat or his room in chambers, which were both elegant and uncluttered, almost severe in their aspect. Even though Leo came here barely once a month, the house had a welcoming, lived-in feeling.
Sarah followed Leo into the low-beamed hallway. Leo set Oliver down, and the boy toddled ahead into the living room, babbling and shouting.
‘I’ll build a fire,’ said Leo. Why don’t you go and make some tea?’
When she came back into the living room, Leo had managed to get the fire to catch, and Oliver was distributing the contents of a large chest of toys across the rug. Sarah sank into one of the large, comfortable sofas and sipped her tea.
Leo picked up his own tea and sat near the fire in an armchair. She understood entirely why it would not occur to Leo to sit with her, or touch her, or behave with any warmth or affection. Their relationship was one of convenience. If they chose to have sex, it was always a dispassionate, physical affair, their minds and pleasure separate. That was the basis on which Leo had first brought her to this house, her and James. They had been his playthings. He never thought of her in any other way, and assumed she treated him in like fashion. They simply amused one another, but it meant nothing more. He was probably quite glad to have her here this weekend, as a means of relieving the tedium of coping with a toddler, and as someone to sleep with. Sarah knew that it didn’t matter to Leo whether it was with her, or some other person, even some man. It was that, she knew, that she would have to change. His whole mindset would have to be turned around, so that he came to regard her in quite a different way.
No mean task, thought Sarah, given the functional basis on which their relationship had existed up until now.
‘I don’t know what you thought you were going to live on,’ remarked Sarah. ‘There’s absolutely no food in the cupboards, not even of the tinned variety.’
Leo leant back, suddenly weary from the drive and lack of sleep. He smothered a yawn. ‘I’ll go down to the village shop in a while, see what it has to offer.’
‘That place is useless, unless it’s very much changed since I was last here.’
‘I haven’t got the energy to think about it right now. I had rather a late night last night. Or rather, morning. I didn’t get to bed until half-four.’
‘Really? That’s pushing it a bit, at your great age. What on earth were you doing till that hour? Or i
s it best I don’t know?’
‘It was all very innocent. I found myself being taken to a few gaming clubs – by a rather amusing man, as it happens.’ Leo gave a tired, reflective smile. ‘An old acquaintance.’
Sarah wasn’t in the mood to hear about it. She set down her tea. ‘Well, if you’re so worn out, I’ll drive into Oxford and get some stuff from the supermarket.’
Leo yawned again. ‘Fine. But keep it simple. I don’t feel like cooking much tonight.’
‘Don’t worry; you won’t have to. I’ll see to that.’
When she got back to the house in the late afternoon, dusk had fallen, and the room was gently bathed in the light from lamps around the room. Leo was lying on the sofa, watching the football results on television, while Oliver was rolling the contents of the log basket out on to the floor and filling it with his toys.
‘Thank God you’re back,’ said Leo. ‘I’ve been fighting to stay awake for the last half hour.’
A log fell on Oliver’s small fingers and he set up a shrill wail. Leo groaned. Sarah reached down and picked him up. ‘Why don’t you catch up on some sleep while I give Oliver tea?’
‘God bless you,’ murmured Leo, and closed his eyes. It was a good thing she’d come down with them, he realised. He’d have to be careful in future when it was his weekend to have Oliver. Late nights and childcare didn’t mix.
In the kitchen, Sarah had to wrestle for some moments with Oliver’s high chair before she could unfold it. Then she sat him in it and kissed his hot, wet face. The sobs subsided in the small chest as Sarah tore off the end of a French loaf and handed it to him. ‘Here, keep going with that till I can make you something more substantial.’ She put groceries into the fridge and cupboards. She hadn’t bought much – just some pasta and salad, and the makings of a carbonara sauce. Leo always had a stash of wine around the place, but she’d bought a couple of extra bottles just in case, and some bread and fruit.
She made Oliver a boiled egg and helped him to eat it, and gave him a cup of milk, the contents of which he poured on to the table of his high chair, casually dropping the cup on the floor afterwards. He ate the better part of a banana, squashing the rest between his fingers and kneading it into crevices in his high chair, and leaning down to smear some of it affectionately into Sarah’s hair as she knelt to clean up the milk. Sarah rinsed out the cloth and leant against the sink, fishing bits of banana from her hair. Jesus, toddlers were hard work, and she’d only been on her own with this one for twenty minutes. She scrutinised Oliver, who gazed back at her with bold, intelligent eyes. He would come with the package, reflected Sarah. It was all very well to regard the pursuit of Leo as an amusing game, but what if she were to succeed? What if Leo were to be persuaded that she would be as good a constant companion as any, and actually take her on? Then it would be less of a game. It would involve this little being, for a start, and all the complications of being someone’s stepmother. This was going to take some thought.
Since Oliver was becoming restive in his high chair, she plucked him out and took him through to the living room, where Leo lay fast asleep on the sofa, and set him down on the rug with his toys. They played together for half an hour or so, after which time Sarah grew bored of building up brick towers for Oliver to scatter. She found a small selection of videos in a cupboard by the television, and sat Oliver in front of the Teletubbies, while she took a book at random from the shelves and curled up in an armchair. After another half-hour, Oliver began to rub his nose and look generally sleepy. Sarah went upstairs to his bedroom and found some pyjamas in a drawer, and took them back downstairs.
‘Lord, I suppose I’d better change your nappy first,’ she muttered. Oliver gave her a baleful, tired look. Sarah went to hunt down the nappies, and when she came back she found Oliver standing by the sofa, gently patting Leo’s face. She watched them for a few moments, father and son, and felt something like jealousy at the realisation that Oliver was, and always would be, the most precious being in Leo’s life, the one person he loved. No one else came close. Oliver began patting with greater force, in an attempt to wake Leo, who merely shifted on to his side. Sarah scooped Oliver up to find a convenient surface on which to change him, Oliver trailing a shrill cry of ‘Daddeee!’ as he went.
When he was changed, Sarah carried him upstairs, rather enjoying the warmth of the small, compact body against hers, hoping that his relative inertness signalled that he would go straight to sleep. She laid him in his cot and tucked his quilt around him, pulled the curtains, and switched on the night light in the corner of the room. She tiptoed to the cot and looked down. Oliver stared back at her, then smiled, startling her with his likeness to Leo. She bent and kissed him lightly, then left the room, quietly praying that the silence would continue. It did.
Downstairs Leo was still asleep. Kneeling on the rug to pick up Oliver’s wooden bricks, Sarah glanced at his sleeping face. She was suddenly touched by the vulnerability of his tired features, which frowned slightly, then cleared, like a child’s. A feeling such as she had not experienced in some years swept through her, and she found herself thinking – no, not that, not that, ever again. Loving someone was one thing, but she never wanted to find herself in love again. Leo stirred, and gradually opened his eyes. He saw Sarah kneeling on the rug by the sofa, watching him. He blinked and stretched his arms above his head.
‘God, how long have I been asleep?’
‘A couple of hours.’
He ran his fingers through his hair and yawned, then after a moment he turned to glance at Sarah. Her expression was unusually reflective. In fact, all day she had been unlike herself, less barbed and provocative. ‘You look very pensive. What are you thinking about?’
Sarah smiled. ‘I was thinking about the time you were in court and you didn’t have your glasses.’
‘One of my increasingly frequent senior moments. What, for heaven’s sake, made you think about that?’
‘I don’t know. It made you vulnerable. Like now, when you were sleeping.’
‘Hmm.’ Leo clasped his hands behind his head. ‘I don’t know if I like you feeling sorry for me. Go and make us both a drink.’
‘Yes, sir – when I’ve tidied up these toys.’
‘I’ve just realised how quiet it is. That’s probably what woke me up. Where’s Oliver?’
‘Upstairs, asleep. I gave him tea, then we played for a bit, then he got tired.’
‘Did you give him a bath?’
‘God, no! It was bad enough changing him and getting him into his pyjamas.’
‘Rachel likes him to have a bath every evening.’ Leo stooped down from the sofa to pick up some of the toys.
‘Does she now? Too bad.’ Sarah stood up. ‘If you’ll put the rest of those away, I’ll make us that drink. Scotch?’
They sat companionably by the fire with their drinks, and Sarah listened as Leo explained the Lloyd’s case to her. When he had finished, he added, ‘I’m afraid it’s not going to be the most exciting case. Most of your work will consist of trawling through documents, checking references, making sure things are in the right order.’
‘It’s what I do most of the time.’ She uncurled herself from her armchair and stood up. ‘I’ll make us some supper.’
‘Want a hand?’
‘No, I’m fine, thanks. You never used to help, anyway.’
‘Ah, that was way back then. That was when you were paid to do it.’
Sarah stood looking down at Leo. ‘That’s right – I just cooked your food and let you screw me, didn’t I?’
There was a pause before Leo spoke. ‘That, as I recall it, was the general arrangement.’
‘So what’s changed now?’ Sarah wondered why she felt a sudden spurt of anger. She was momentarily confused.
‘Nothing, if that’s what you want out of this weekend. You don’t get paid, that’s all,’ replied Leo quietly. The note of indifference in his voice chilled her. She tended to forget what a bastard he could be. It was somethi
ng she would have to bear in mind.
‘In that case,’ she said with a smile, ‘you can help. Come on.’
They ate at the big wooden table in the kitchen. At the end of the meal, Leo tipped the last of the wine into their glasses and reached across to touch Sarah’s hair, surprising her with the apparent affection of the gesture. But he was merely taking something out of it. ‘What on earth is this?’
‘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.’
