by Caro Fraser
‘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.
They carried on working as though no interruption had occurred. By the time six o’clock came, Camilla showed no signs of flagging. It occurred to Leo that she would probably work all evening if he asked her to. She had the makings of success. Intelligence, dedication, and, as he had discovered this afternoon, a steady fearlessness that would stand her in good stead when it came to dealing with some of the more temperamental bastards on the Commercial bench. But there was something a little sad about such steeliness in someone so young. It certainly hadn’t been there a year ago. Leo reflected that the break up with Anthony, being hurt and betrayed like that, had probably affected her badly. He had seen it before. People throwing themselves into their work to escape from the unhappiness of some love affair, and never quite recovering. Staying that way, hardening, not letting the bitterness go. Surely, she was too young for that.
He was leaning back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head, and it was only when Camilla looked up that Leo realised he had been staring at her, quite unintentionally.
‘I was thinking,’ he said, breaking the silence, ‘that you take work too seriously.’
‘Is that possible?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Leo stifled a yawn. ‘I’ll bet you take briefs home with you.’
‘Doesn’t everyone?’
‘Not every night.’ He saw that he had hit a raw nerve. Poor kid. She was probably lonely as hell, with nothing but chambers business to occupy her. ‘You need a social life, too, you know.’
Camilla flushed. ‘You seem amazingly preoccupied with my private life, if you don’t mind me saying so.’
‘I don’t mind at all. Try not to use these redundancies in speech. They’re infelicitous in a good barrister.’ She was about to make some retort, then realised that he was joking. ‘Come on, lighten up,’ said Leo. ‘What say we work another hour or two and then you let me buy you dinner?’
A little wave of fear and pleasure shook her. ‘You don’t have to, you know.’
‘I know that,’ replied Leo patiently. Oh, the young. So resistant, so graceless. ‘But I should like to.’
‘Thank you.’
Five minutes later, the phone rang.
‘Leo! Coming out to play tonight?’ For a moment Leo couldn’t place the voice, jaunty and smooth at the same time.
‘Gideon?’
‘The very same. I’ve just spent the most gruelling day with our esteemed Minister and a delegation from the Board of South-Western Arts, and wondered if you might be free for a drink. Or two. Or three. Or more.’
If he hadn’t just invited Camilla to dine with him, Leo would have been tempted. However, given Gideon’s idea of a pleasant night out, it was probably just as well he couldn’t accept. Particularly since he had to be in chambers early tomorrow morning to carry on with the rest of these documents. ‘I’m afraid I can’t. I’ve just arranged to do something else.’ For a moment Camilla’s eyes met his, then she looked back down at her work. Leo was briefly distracted. What faint flicker had he detected in that glance?
‘Well, that’s a pity.’
‘But, look, why don’t you come to the Temple for a drink one evening next week – say, Tuesday? Revisit old haunts.’ He liked the idea of spending another evening with Gideon – the man was amusing, a novelty. Though this time he’d have to make sure it ended before midnight.
‘Tuesday, Tuesday …’ Gideon scanned his diary. ‘Yes, I can do that. I’ll come to chambers from work. Around sevenish?’
‘Fine.’
‘By the by,’ said Gideon, ‘when’s our case due to start?’
‘In a couple of weeks. March the eleventh.’
‘Good. That’ll keep mother quiet on one point, at least. She liked you very much, I might add. Says she found you most reassuring.’
‘Good. Perhaps there won’t be quite so much infighting from now on. As it happens, I’m slaving away in your cause right at this moment.’
‘In which case, I won’t keep you. Bye.’
Gideon put the phone down and sat back in his chair, glancing round the largely deserted office. The only people still remaining were Gideon’s own secretaries, a couple of ambitious high fliers in their early twenties, whom Gideon, for his personal amusement and satisfaction, worked tremendously hard. Gideon’s desk stood just outside the portals of Tony Gear’s private inner sanctum, the last bastion; no one could see the Minister without Gideon’s express authorisation. Gideon was already working assiduously to foster in his new master a sense of complete dependence on his private secretary. He had sown the seeds swiftly and cleverly in their first few days together, and by a combination of subtle flattery and gentle manipulation had generated in Tony Gear a feeling of admiring gratefulness that he had so able an assistant. Gideon had been careful, however, to keep Tony’s ego well bolstered at all times, to make him feel that he was in complete control. Which, of course, he was. Who could do
ubt that?
The door to Tony Gear’s private office opened, and a young woman in her mid-twenties emerged, Tony Gear’s diary secretary. She interested Gideon not a little. Her name was Kelly, which Gideon found risible enough, and she was blonde and attractive in a fashion which Gideon thought tiresomely predictable. Sensible skirt, nothing too flashy, but figure-hugging little tops which showed off an ample bust, and heels just high enough to let her strut across the office. Gideon watched her as she went back to her desk. It had been very interesting to discover that Kelly and Tony Gear were already acquainted, and that there was every possibility that her appointment as his diary secretary had been carefully engineered. The happily married Mr Gear, as the official word had it. Gideon knew a little more about it than that.
Caper Court was deserted and silent when Leo and Camilla left at eight o’clock. Leo drove to Leicester Square and took Camilla to a small Italian restaurant tucked away in a courtyard off St Martin’s Lane, where Leo was greeted warmly, and seemed well known. Camilla listened as Leo chatted in Italian to the owner, reflecting that it was impossible not to be impressed by everything about Leo. Even the darker aspects of his personality, and the flaws in his character, such as his occasional volatility and impatience with stupidity, merely served to sharpen his points of brilliance. The rumours about his bisexuality, which had at first shocked her, now faintly excited her, adding to the mystique surrounding him. Camilla credited herself with considerable good sense and the ability not to be swayed by irrational feeling. She knew all the reasons why someone like Leo was out of her league. In her own case, apart from anything else, he was probably too old for her. Yet all the reason and clarity in the world came to nothing in the face of one smile from him, or a glance from those blue eyes.
The conversation over dinner, mainly about cases and people in chambers, was easy enough, but Leo was aware of the reserve in Camilla’s manner. She’d always been a rather staid girl, to his way of thinking, and even though she’d lost her former gaucheness, she still had about her an air of one who knew too little of the world. Leo, as he sipped his coffee, reflected that it was in some ways rather charming. He eyed her thoughtfully as she expounded on some case of a few days ago, taking in her clothes, the nondescript white shirt she wore beneath the boring black jacket. The standard gear for women at the Bar, and difficult to make interesting. He wondered what she would look like dressed in something else, something that showed off her neck and shoulders, and with her hair loose, shining. She needed someone to make her smile a little more, to bring warmth and genuine pleasure to her eyes.
Camilla saw that Leo’s mind was elsewhere and paused, smiling apologetically. ‘I’m sorry. I’m being boring.’
‘No – not at all,’ replied Leo, still distracted. ‘I was just trying to picture you—’ He stopped.
Camilla sat, lips parted, astonished, her eyes fastened on Leo’s. A little blush mounted to her face at the thought that he had been sitting, thinking about her as she talked.
He leant his elbow on the table and tapped his fingers against his lips, as though musing. He had her; she was caught. How easy. Too easy. He gave a smile, as though faintly embarrassed. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. It doesn’t matter. I’ll get the bill.’
She was entirely silent as he went through the motions of paying, caught within the web he had woven with his few careless words.
They walked down Goodwins Court into St Martin’s Lane. Camilla stopped on the pavement and turned to Leo.
‘Thank you for dinner. It was lovely.’
‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’
She hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘I’d better go and get my train.’
‘Where do you live?’ asked Leo.
‘Clapham.’
‘I’ll drive you,’ said Leo.
‘No, really – you don’t have to.’
Leo lowered his head and said in a gently mocking way, ‘Do you always have to say that when men are trying to be helpful, or gallant, or just want to spend some time with you?’ The casual intimacy of the words utterly transfixed Camilla.
‘No. Right. Sorry,’ she stammered. Leo began to walk in the direction of the NCP car park where he had left his car, and Camilla followed.
Camilla experienced a childish pleasure riding in Leo’s car. It was warm and leathery, clearly ridiculously expensive, and utterly in keeping with Leo, she thought, as she leant back and enjoyed the sensation of gliding through the traffic, listening to the quiet music from the CD player.
As they drove down Wandsworth Road, Leo broke the spell. ‘You’ll have to tell me which way to go from here.’
Camilla directed him, and after a few minutes they pulled up outside a large, shabby, semi-detached house. Camilla ducked her head and glanced up at the first floor. No lights on. ‘Jane must still be out. She’s in a criminal set in Hare Court. She put an advertisement up on the notice board in Inner Temple Common Room for someone to share, and that’s how we met. I was very lucky, really—’ Camilla stopped. ‘Anyway, thanks for the lift.’
As she turned to glance at Leo, he was instantly struck by the open, soft expression in her eyes. In the half-light from the street lamp, the skin of her cheek was pale, framed by hair which had come loose. He was not often touched, but he was at this moment.
They sat looking at one another, and then he chuckled softly.
‘What?’ asked Camilla. She felt anxious, mildly offended, wishing she could handle situations like this with ease and maturity. Perhaps she should just say thanks again and get out of the car.
Leo laughed again, then said in a gentle voice, ‘I’ve never in my life seen anyone who wanted to be kissed so much.’ He waited with interest to see how she would react.
She looked, as he expected, indignant and astonished both at once, and entirely lost for words.
‘Come here,’ said Leo. She did nothing, said nothing, and he put out an arm and drew her towards him, and kissed her.
Camilla wanted the moment to go on and on for ever. The feeling in the pit of her stomach, the melting, dissolving sensation, was so wonderful that he could do anything with her that he wanted. She knew that. He knew that.
‘There,’ murmured Leo, when it had ended.
‘What?’ asked Camilla. She felt dizzy.
‘Wasn’t it what you wanted?’
Camilla struggled tor words, and for poise. Both were hard to find. ‘Not – not necessarily.’
Leo smiled. ‘Ah, well. My mistake. I’ll know better another time.’ She looked so totally open and pliable, body and soul, that Leo knew that if he were to turn around now, drive her back to his place and take her to bed, she wouldn’t resist for one second. He sighed. ‘Go on – get to bed. I need you bright and fresh tomorrow morning.’
Camilla couldn’t tell whether she minded being spoken to like a child, or not. Her thoughts were too confused. She didn’t want to go, but she had not the words or self-possession to turn the situation. So she opened the door and got out.
‘See you in the morning,’ called Leo.
When she let herself into the empty flat, Camilla could tell that Jane hadn’t been in all evening, had probably gone out straight from work. She could have invited him in, she could have made him coffee, he would have kissed her again, and then – She stared around the living room, and thought of the jumble of clothes and books that littered her own bedroom. God, there were at least two old coffee mugs on her bedside table. What was she thinking of? Leo, here?
She went quickly to bed and lay in the darkness, reliving the kiss, and then the whole evening. She thought of what he had said, his soft laugh in the half-darkness of the car. He was so arrogant. He could do what he liked with people, and he knew it. She closed her eyes and squeezed tight fistfuls of the duvet in self-reproach and embarrassment. She had made herself so easy for him. And yet, when she remembered his mouth on hers, and the hunger – the instant desire that his very touch invoked … She thought suddenly of Anthony, and the
ir lovemaking, and knew immediately that to be with Leo would be a wholly different experience. She thrust Anthony from her mind, for there had been an innocence and affection there that was not in keeping with thoughts of Leo.
She turned on her side, pulling the covers around her. It was just a kiss. He had done it merely to amuse himself, just as he had taken her to dinner because there was nothing else with which to fill the evening. She was intelligent enough to understand that much. Yet it was hard not to hope that there might be more to it than that. After all, she had worked enough with Leo to know that he was nothing if not thorough. When Leo began a thing, he always liked to finish it.
Leo drove back through the thin, late-night traffic, reflecting absently on the events of the evening. Perhaps kissing Camilla had not been clever. She clearly had some kind of a crush on him, and Leo liked his sexual adventures with women to be conducted without the mess of sentiment and emotion. Yet, when it came to the point, she really had been rather irresistible. All that dewy innocence, probably no more than one or two youthful love affairs behind her, and, as he had been able to detect even through the layers of coat and sensible clothing, a wonderfully firm and voluptuous young body. She was a standing invitation. He sighed. She would want too much. Like Rachel, she would invest an affair with significance. No, it really wasn’t worth the trouble. Pity. A little imagination and encouragement, and that girlish reserve could be coaxed into something much more interesting. He turned into the mews and parked his car in the garage. Just as he was about to walk away, someone stepped out of the shadows in front of him, startling him. ‘Hello, Leo.’
It took him a couple of seconds to recognise her. He stopped dead, the adrenalin still pumping, filled with unease at the sight of Melissa standing before him, clutching her long coat round her, blonde, straggly hair lifting in the cold air.
‘Melissa … What are you doing round here?’ He spoke evenly, his mind racing to assess the situation, trying to work out why this woman should suddenly appear here, in a deserted Belgravia mews, with no apparent motive other than to accost him. He had long suspected her of being unstable, but he hadn’t been prepared for this.
