by Caro Fraser
‘Well, it’s a contingent exposure …’ Ruddick shifted in his seat, glancing across at his solicitors and then back at Leo.
‘It’s a contingent exposure to risk, one that might happen or might not.’
‘Yes.’
‘But asbestosis had happened, Mr Ruddick, hadn’t it? It was known within Lloyd’s that huge numbers had been exposed to that risk. Is that not so?’
‘Well, I don’t know the precise numbers … I don’t know the years in which potential numbers were known, to be greater than they were thought to be earlier.’
‘That wasn’t my question, Mr Ruddick. Let’s look at it again. It was known within Lloyd’s that in the past huge numbers had been exposed, hadn’t they? My question didn’t contain a quantification, it contained the adjective “huge”. Do you quarrel with that as knowledge within Lloyd’s?’
Ruddick fiddled with the papers in the bundle before him. ‘I’m not sure. It’s a long time ago and my recollection … Well, I think I thought that early on the losses would come from the major manufacturers, you know, who were mining …’
At that moment, the courtroom door to one side swung gently open, and someone came in and took a seat in the rows of chairs set aside for the public and press. It was the case that Names, solicitors, court officers and clerks constantly came and went throughout the day, as noiselessly as possible, and generally no one paid any attention. But for some reason, as Ruddick was waffling on, Leo glanced across at the newcomer. Camilla, accustomed by now to being closely attuned to Leo during the proceedings, felt his attention shift, his body freeze momentarily. She glanced in the direction in which he was looking and saw a blonde woman arranging herself, plus bags, coat and scarf, in a seat at the end of the row. The woman smiled at Leo, who looked away instantly, flicking through the papers in front of him to recapture his train of thought. Whoever she was, Camilla could tell her presence had entirely thrown Leo.
‘… I mean, I think we knew that firms like that, whose employees had been very heavily exposed, would be severely damaged, but I don’t think that I personally understood how wide – I mean, we, that is to say I, may have failed to appreciate that larger numbers of firms working with asbestos in a more minor way, might have workers with claims …’ Ruddick came to a drifting halt, but it was a couple of seconds before Leo could capitalise on his inadequate testimony.
‘A fatal misapprehension, Mr Ruddick.’ But the momentum was already lost. Leo looked down again at the papers and paused for several long seconds. ‘So, let us think about this date, the beginning of March 1982 …’
An hour later the court adjourned. Camilla saw that the woman who had caused Leo to lose his concentration was still sitting in her chair, eyes fixed on Leo as he and the other lawyers packed away their papers.
‘Who is she?’ asked Camilla in an undertone.
Leo gave a grimace. ‘She’s a woman with some kind of fixation on me. She bombards me with letters and emails. We know one another socially, and on a couple of occasions she’s been physically aggressive. A while ago, she came to my house in the country. I had Oliver for the weekend—’ He stopped. It wouldn’t do for any mention to be made of Sarah. He certainly wouldn’t make any headway with Camilla at the end of this case if she knew he was regularly bedding Sarah. She wasn’t the type of girl to accept an explanation that one was only doing it to keep one’s hand in, so to speak. ‘Anyway, to cut a long story short, I had to call the police, and they had a little warning word with her. She knows now that if she comes near me again, I’ll have her up for assault, or at any rate take out an injunction against her. But in the meantime—’ Leo sighed and glanced across to see if Melissa had left yet, ‘—there’s not much I can do about her.’
Camilla and Leo finished packing away their belongings and left the courtroom together. Melissa still sat in her chair in the almost empty room, following Leo with her eyes, smiling. He ignored her. They and a few others took the lift down to the lobby, where Leo paused to speak to Fred Fenton and Rachel. As they stood there, Melissa emerged from the following lift. From her bag she produced a camera, spoke Leo’s name, causing him to turn his head, and took two photographs in quick succession. She put the camera back in her bag, smiled at the speechless group, and left the building.
‘Who on earth was that?’ asked Rachel.
‘Some journalist, probably,’ replied Leo, shooting Camilla a glance. He certainly didn’t want Rachel to know he was being stalked by some obsessed woman, and especially not that the scope of her harassment had recently come to include Oliver. His access to Oliver was fragile enough, resting solely on Rachel’s goodwill, and everything could quickly change if Rachel had any reason to fear for Oliver’s safety.
As they walked back to chambers, Camilla brooded on the matter of the woman so obsessed with Leo. Things like that didn’t come out of the blue. What had he done to the woman – or with her – that had left her stranded with a mounting obsession? She knew that Leo had his dark sides, had caught little shreds of rumour concerning his sexuality, his past, his treatment of his ex-wife. She had chosen to ignore these. They were alien to her infatuation, which she wanted to preserve unsullied, romantically intact. But here was evidence that she knew nothing about him, really, or the way he treated people. Reason told her that the feelings she had for Leo were entirely misguided, possibly even dangerous. She had let herself think he could care for her in some way, when in fact he probably just saw her as another unconquered and convenient possibility. He had only taken her out to dinner that night to amuse himself, because he had nothing better to do. It had been the same with that kiss. It must be easy to find someone like her amusing. But the damage was done. Just by turning to look at her with his blue eyes, as he did now, he reduced all her careful rationalisation of his character to a mere nothing.
‘What are you thinking about?’
‘That woman,’ replied Camilla.
‘Forget her. She’s a complete and utter bitch,’ said Leo. He scanned the traffic as they prepared to cross the road. ‘I wish I’d never met her.’
Camilla wondered how many people Leo had said that about, and whether she might be added to the list at some time in the future.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sarah had sulked for an entire week, hoping that Leo would notice and apologise. After all, he’d had no business blaming her for what had happened that Sunday. But Leo was far too preoccupied with the Lloyd’s litigation to pay her any attention. Besides, since David had returned from his second and final South American trip three weeks ago, and had reclaimed Sarah as his pupil, she was no longer involved in the Lloyd’s case and scarcely saw Leo in chambers. She realised, with some dissatisfaction, that it had been she who had initiated and established the cosy little routine of supper and sex two or three times a week, and unless she took the initiative and made the first overture, which was not something she relished doing, she would have to wait for him to reinstate things.
Leo knew he had been unreasonable in suggesting that Sarah had been in any way to blame for Melissa’s visit that Sunday, but he rather welcomed the break in the pattern of their relationship, brought about by her flouncing back to London. He decided to let Sarah cool her heels for a bit, while he would enter a temporary and cleansing state of chastity, until the case was finished.
Melissa continued to haunt him, through letters, and by occasional appearances in the courtroom. She didn’t repeat her trick with the camera, and Leo was just learning to try to ignore her once more when Rachel rang him one morning in chambers, an hour before he was due in court.
‘Leo, do you happen to know Melissa Angelicos, the television presenter? Because she sent some presents to Oliver on Saturday. A whole train set, a load of books … I’ve never met her in my life; and neither has Oliver – so far as I know. Do you know what’s going on? It’s not even his birthday yet.’
Leo took a deep breath. Not only had Melissa been devious enough to find out the address of his house in
the country, she had obviously gone to some lengths to find out where Rachel and Oliver lived. This was becoming intolerable, and more worrying than ever. As long as Melissa targeted him alone, Leo felt he could just about handle it, but when she started spreading her net wider to include his family …
‘She’s one of the trustees of Chay Cross’s museum. That’s how I know her.’ He paused, wondering how best to explain the situation without unduly alarming Rachel. Given Rachel’s nature, that was probably impossible. ‘She’s become something of a pest recently. She writes me letters, sends me presents. All very harmless stuff, but annoying.’ Even as he tried to downplay it, he knew it wouldn’t work.
‘What on earth has that to do with Oliver? Why is she sending him things?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps—’
‘More to the point, how on earth did she find out where we live? You didn’t tell her, did you?’
‘Of course not. The trouble is she’s developed something of an obsession about me. I spoke to Julius about it, when it began to get out of hand, and he said that people like that are often very resourceful. They become fixated on someone, and they find out as much as they can about them.’
‘Oh, that’s just great. Are you telling me some unbalanced woman is snooping around our lives, simply because she’s got a crush on you? Wonderful. What if it doesn’t just stop at presents, Leo? What if she’s really deranged and tries to harm him?’
‘Rachel, I don’t think it will come to that. She knows better than that. The warning the police gave her two weekends ago—’
‘What warning?’ cut in Rachel, her voice rising. ‘Two weekends ago Oliver was with you at Stanton!’
If he had made such a slip in forensic circumstances, Leo would have been appalled. He could hardly believe he had done it now. His mind floundered, seeking a means of redressing the error.
‘Are you telling me this woman was at Stanton, when Oliver was there? I don’t believe this.’
‘There’s nothing to get alarmed about. I told you, she’s perfectly harmless. She just called to see me—’
‘I see – a harmless visit ended up with the police coming round and giving her a warning. Leo, how can you keep this kind of thing from me? If some crackpot with an obsession about you is trying to get at my child, don’t you think I have a right to know?’ Rachel’s voice now had the hysterical edge which Leo knew well …
‘It was nothing. Don’t get so alarmed. Don’t you think I would tell you if I thought she presented any danger to Oliver?’
‘I don’t know, Leo. With you, I never know.’ There was a long pause. ‘I’m not sure I want Oliver staying with you at the weekends while this kind of thing is going on.’
‘Oh, come off it. She may have sent him some presents, but that’s harmless enough—’
‘Don’t try to play this down! What else is she going to do? How long is it going to go on for? I don’t want this kind of intrusion in our lives, Leo. Until you sort out your problem with this creature, Oliver’s not staying with you. And make sure she doesn’t send anything to our house again.’
The phone went down. Leo held the receiver for a few seconds, then replaced it, and buried his face in his hands. If he could find out a way of taking out a contract on this Angelicos woman, he would cheerfully do it. He knew Rachel meant what she said. The prospect of not seeing Oliver for weeks was appalling. It was up to him to do something. But what?
Mid May brought an unexpected upturn in the weather, and conditions in the low-ceilinged courtroom at Chichester Rents became stifling. Mr Justice Olby allowed counsel to dispense with their wigs and had fans installed around the courtroom. These, however, whirred so noisily that, even with the microphones, witnesses had trouble making themselves heard at the back of the courtroom and in the press gallery.
In these circumstances, the proceedings seemed more tedious than ever. Junior counsel on both sides had opened a book on how long Grimley’s closing submissions would take, to the closest hour, but it was still some weeks until that event. Even standard diversions, such as Paul Rollason betting Leo that he couldn’t introduce the word ‘armadillo’ into his cross-examination, failed to enliven things much, though Leo unintentionally created his own brief diversion, during his cross-examination of a former underwriter.
‘Now, Mr Grace, in 1982 you remained the active underwriter de jure, but it was Mr Knightley who undertook the responsibilities de facto. Am I correct?’ Leo asked.
But before the witness could reply, Mr Justice Olby intervened, addressing Leo with an arch smile. ‘Mr Davies, I’m sure you must be aware of the Lord Chancellor’s edict, not so long ago, against the use of legal Latin in our proceedings. I cannot say I favour his views, but none the less, pacta sunt servanda, eh?’
Leo paused for the briefest of moments before replying, ‘My Lord, I assumed in limine that my witness, Mr Grace, and my learned colleagues, were all far from being members of the profanum vulgus, and would readily understand the references.’
Paul Rollason rose gracefully to his feet. ‘My Lord, de minimis non curat lex. We do not trouble ourselves about small matters either. We are in omnia paratus.’
Much delighted by these sallies, Mr Justice Olby riposted, ‘Indeed, Mr Rollason, indeed. It is, after all, lex non scripta, and one might well ask – quo iure?’
Mr Rollason nodded gravely. ‘Quite, my Lord. I am sure Mr Davies had no intention of creating a scandalum magnatum.’
‘Far from it,’ said Leo with a smile. ‘However, I apologise to the court for the lapse. Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamurin illis.’
‘As usual, Mr Davies, rem acu tetigisti,’ concluded Mr Justice Olby, who, having enjoyed this little interlude thoroughly, intended to have the last word. ‘Cadit quaestio. Please do continue with your cross-examination.’
Later, when the court had risen for the day, Camilla asked, ‘What was that all about, with the Latin?’
‘Old Olby loves his Latin. Used to use it whenever he could, before that oaf Derry Irvine came down on it. I suppose it was rather malicious, really – Olby’s way of sorting out the educated from the uneducated. Paul Rollason and I know it of old. It was just a little game.’
‘But how did you know all that? I couldn’t understand half of it.’
‘Ah,’ said Leo, ‘therein lies the value of good grammar-school education, you see.’
Just for a moment, as he smiled at her over the tops of his half-moon spectacles, he seemed not Leo, but someone impossibly removed from her in age and experience. Leo, as he regarded her, had thoughts roughly along the same lines. The idea made him feel sad and middle-aged. Yet he caught, too, the connective expression in her eyes, and was moved by it. She was, he thought, not like other girls of her age. He looked away.
‘Come on, let’s get back to chambers and prepare for Sawbridge tomorrow.’ Sir Arnold Sawbridge was ex-chairman of Lloyd’s, and probably the most important witness Leo would cross examine in the proceedings.
They worked until long after everyone else had left chambers, Leo on one side of his desk, Camilla on the other.
‘Let’s have a glass of wine,’ said Leo, some time after eight. He stood up, stretching the stiffness from his legs, fetched a bottle from the case by the door, and poured out two glasses.
‘I’m going to miss you when this case is finished,’ he remarked. We’re a good team – all things considered.’
‘And what might those things be?’
‘Well …’ Leo pushed back his chair and put his feet up comfortably on his desk. ‘There’s the age difference. You’re by far the youngest junior I’ve ever used. Mind you, you’re a sight better than many people twice your age. And a lot prettier. Certainly having you around has made this case less of a chore than it might have been.’
‘Thank you,’ said Camilla. ‘That’s a nice thing to say. You know, when I’m with you, it doesn’t feel like you’re twenty-five years older than I am.’
Leo put his head back and r
oared with laughter. ‘What a way with words you have.’ He poured her some more wine.
Camilla drank it, summoning up her courage to say the thing she wanted to. It was probably entirely mad. She didn’t care. She let the glow of the wine spread through her.
‘I want to say something,’ she said, after a brief silence.
‘This sounds very serious.’
‘Not really. Well, that depends …’ She stared at her wine glass. ‘Do you remember when you came to my room and apologised to me?’
‘Mmm. For making an unwelcome pass at you.’
‘You said that your conduct, would be entirely professional for the duration of the case.’
‘Hasn’t it been?’
‘Yes. That’s just it. I wish this case was over. Oh, Leo, I wish it was.’ There was a pause as she held his gaze. ‘I want to know what happens, you see.’
‘What happens?’
‘When you start behaving unprofessionally.’
Leo stared at her. He had no idea all this had been going on in her mind. ‘If you want to, you can always find out,’ he replied slowly.
‘Can I?’ Camilla could feel her pulse beating hard. Just a glass or two of wine, and she had precipitated this.
‘Come here.’ He waited, watching, as she rose from her chair and came round to him. He got to his feet, and she came into his arms. He kissed her at some length, with all the pent-up desire of several weeks, then said, ‘Look, I have no idea what you expect from me. I simply want you. Every day spent sitting next to you in that bloody courtroom makes me want you more. That’s all I can tell you.’
‘That’s enough,’ replied Camilla, and put her mouth to his again. ‘Will you take me home?’ she whispered at last. Her legs felt a little shaky.
‘No,’ said Leo softly. ‘I have no intention of letting you go. Not now. I’m going to take you back to my flat and make love to you.’
