A Perfect Obsession

by Caro Fraser

  They walked on a little further, as Leo pondered this. ‘You’re right. I’m certainly not to be recommended …’ He stopped again. ‘If I said that I wanted to change everything, that I wanted my life to become ordinary and – well, uncomplicated, whatever … Would you be prepared to love me?’

  ‘I didn’t say I didn’t love you. I only said I thought it wasn’t a good idea. I can’t help what I feel. Leo, I love you anyway, whatever you are. I just don’t want you to do me any harm.’

  ‘Oh, dear God …’ murmured Leo, and looked across at the sun dipping behind the roofs of Clapham. ‘I have thought about nothing but this all day—’

  ‘No, you haven’t. You’ve spent all day ignoring me and worrying about Mr Long’s finality statement and the letter that Beddoes claims went missing.’

  ‘Well … Up to a point, obviously.’ Leo frowned. ‘I haven’t ignored you. How can you say I’ve ignored you when I’ve been thinking all day about marrying you? When I haven’t been worrying about Mr Long’s finality statement, of course.’

  Camilla stared at him. ‘You don’t mean that. You’re just saying that because of what I said last night.’

  ‘Well, of course that’s why. I said, how can I make you believe I love you, and you said, marry me. So there we are. Marry me.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because you don’t mean it. Because it wouldn’t have entered your head if I hadn’t said it. And I wasn’t being serious.’

  ‘You might not have been. I am.’ They were standing outside a greengrocer’s and an elderly man had to inch past them on the pavement to get by. ‘Sorry,’ murmured Leo, stepping back.

  ‘You love me enough to want me – for good?’ asked Camilla, astonished by everything Leo had said.

  ‘Well … It does sound rather extreme, doesn’t it? No, no, don’t look like that. I do mean it. If you’re prepared to accept me as I am, which is all the things Sarah told you and far worse besides …’ He stopped, because Camilla had offered her face up to be kissed, and he had to kiss her.

  ‘You don’t have to marry me, Leo,’ said Camilla.

  ‘I think I do. I don’t much care for the idea of living without you, you see. Let me take you back to your flat. You can pack your things and come with me. It’s as easy as that.’

  ‘No, it’s not. There’s the rent and everything.’

  ‘I will pay the rent a hundred times over. Tell Jane to send every damn bill to me.’ And Leo kissed her again.

  They talked late into the night.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone so much about myself,’ said Leo at last. He turned to look at Camilla, who had been lying next to him, staring at the ceiling as she listened. He leant across and kissed her. ‘Was it all as bad as you expected?’

  ‘I don’t know … Not all of it. Not the bit about your aunts in Wales. I think I’d rather forget the rest.’ Leo smiled.

  ‘There was one thing you failed to explain,’ added Camilla.

  What?’

  ‘Motives. Everyone has motives for the way they behave.’

  God, she was sharp, thought Leo. ‘Not necessarily. Some people are just careless, thoughtless.’

  She turned to look at him. ‘I don’t believe you’re that kind of person. You do things for a reason.’

  He was silent for a moment. ‘No, well … I suppose if you investigated even the most irreproachable behaviour in the world, you might find unworthy motives. I’m not going to explain myself any more. Apart from anything else, I’m too tired. Too tired for talking.’ He drew his fingers lightly across her lips, down over her throat and to her breasts, and she sighed and closed her eyes. ‘So tell me – now that you know the very worst about me,’ said Leo, moving close against her, ‘do you still think you can love me?’

  ‘Oh, I can love you,’ replied Camilla. ‘I don’t know whether I can trust you. Are you sure there aren’t any more horrible skeletons in your closet?’

  Leo put thoughts of Gideon from his mind. He hadn’t told her about that because it was too recent, and, anyway, he trusted that problem was solved. Or would be shortly. ‘None I can think of,’ he said.

  ‘Promise me,’ she murmured, as his hands moved down across her body, ‘that nothing you do will ever hurt me.’

  ‘I promise,’ said Leo, without hesitation.

  Melissa had taken great pains to ensure that every detail of her affair with Leo had been faithfully chronicled, from the initial rapture to the eventual abuse and cruelty. She dwelt on his infidelities, his neglectful treatment of his son, his jealous rages, his professional insecurity … The final document ran to twenty pages. She photocopied it, folded each copy up, put them in envelopes, and addressed them to the two newspapers which she thought would be most likely to use what she had written. It would be her vindication. Everyone would know the truth, the reason why she had come to this. It was all Leo’s fault. If only he had loved her.

  After she had walked to the post box, she came back to her flat, had a bath, washed her hair, put on the robe she had been wearing on the night that Leo had so cruelly humiliated and rejected her, and settled down on the bed with three-quarters of a bottle of Smirnoff blue label, and a large quantity of prescription tranquillizers.

  She was discovered by her cleaning lady at nine-thirty the following morning, apparently dead to the world. The paramedics took her to hospital in an ambulance, and it was found that the overdose she had taken had not been fatal. There was every reason to think that she would make a full recovery, and would be sitting up in no time. That was what the nurses told the reporter who dropped in at the hospital, on the off-chance of something newsworthy, a reporter who happened to work for one of the papers to whom Melissa had posted her missive the previous day.

  When he went into chambers next morning, Leo was surprised to see Edward Choke in the reception area, deep in conversation with Anthony.

  ‘What Chay needs to show, you see, is that the museum collection is of pre-eminent national importance,’ Edward was saying. ‘Then he has to present costings and architectural plans to the Museums, Libraries and Archives Commission, showing how they fit into the overall museum strategy – morning, Leo!’

  Leo returned Edward’s cheerful greeting, but noted how Anthony pointedly ignored him. He must do something to repair the relationship. Whatever Anthony might think, Leo needed Anthony’s friendship. He sincerely regretted now that he had ever allowed certain things to happen. He had no idea how he was going to mend the damage, but it now seemed to him vital that he should. He couldn’t let Anthony go on thinking he didn’t care for him. Things just hadn’t happened at the right time …

  On the way upstairs, Leo met Sarah on the landing.

  ‘Ah, the very person. A word, if I may,’ said Leo, drawing her into his room. He closed the door and leant against it, regarding her stonily. ‘It may interest you to know that your attempt to wreck relations between Camilla and myself was unsuccessful. If you ever try to do anything like that again, however, I will personally make sure you never get work in any set of chambers, nor in any shipping office, nor any P&I club in London. You’re not the only one who can go around damaging people’s reputations.’

  Sarah gave him a considering look. ‘How lovely to think of you two as an item. Such a contrast. The worldly, libidinous QC and the sweet, innocent junior. Maybe you see in her some kind of redemption – is that it, Leo? Well, don’t fool yourself. You can’t change that easily. And when you find that out, you’ll still need me. We talk the same kind of language, after all.’

  He said nothing, but stepped aside and opened the door for her.

  She carried on downstairs, her expression nonchalant, but inside she felt wretched with pain and anger. She’d tried not to let her feelings for Leo go as far as they had, but she’d been helpless to stop them. And now she’d failed entirely. It was something she’d just have to try to get over. After all, he wasn’t the only man in the world. As for Leo’
s threats, the last thing in the world she cared about was getting a job anywhere. No, there had to be other eligible men around, with enough money …

  She came to the foot of the stairs and saw Anthony talking to Edward Choke. She watched as they said goodbye to one another, and Anthony went off to the clerks’ room. Just as Edward was about to go through the door, Sarah stepped forward.

  ‘Edward!’ she said, with a look of delight. Edward turned and beamed at her. ‘I haven’t seen you in ages! Don’t you think it’s time we got together for a drink?’

  Leo and Camilla arrived at Chichester Rents half an hour later. As they went up in the lift together, Camilla scanned the front page of the morning paper.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ she murmured, as a story caught her eye, ‘that would be funny if it wasn’t so awful. Some civil servant has been found dead. “Sources indicate that death was brought about through auto-erotic asphyxiation. The deceased was dressed in a woman’s corset, and items found near the body, including a bicycle pump and a dog lead, suggest that death was brought about accidentally during a sexual act. Detectives are also investigating allegations that Smallwood, who was known to frequent local gay haunts in Ealing had blackmailed local gay Jewish youths and forced them into sexual encounters by threatening to reveal their sexuality to their parents.” Wow …’

  Leo, who was glancing through some notes, was hardly listening.

  Camilla carried on reading. ‘“Gideon Smallwood, Principal Private Secretary to Tony Gear, the Minister for Artistic and Cultural Development, was a flamboyant figure in Whitehall circles—”’

  ‘Let me see that!’ Leo grabbed the paper from her as the lift doors opened. He stood outside the courtroom, scanning the page for the story. Dear God … Gideon. He read it through quickly. Found in a flat in Ealing … What a squalid way to go, thought Leo. His emotions at the news of Gideon’s death were mixed. On the one hand he was deeply sorry that a man of such charm, with a mind more brilliant than most, and an infinite capacity to amuse, had become so devious, so ruthlessly and criminally exploitative, and had died such a foolish death. He felt a touch of sadness as he remembered Gideon, the gilded youth of twenty, sitting for endless hours at the bridge table. Yet, Leo was also conscious of immense relief at the knowledge that he had nothing more to fear from him. He glanced at the small photograph of Gideon. It didn’t show him at his best. Gideon wouldn’t have liked it.

  He handed the paper back to Camilla. ‘Come on. We’re going to be late.’

  Camilla glanced at him curiously. ‘Did you know him?’

  ‘Yes. Slightly.’

  Camilla looked away, said nothing, and just as Leo was trying to read her thoughts, an awful realisation came to him, like a cold blow to the solar plexus. The cheque he had sent to the flat where Gideon had died. Oh, Christ … What would anyone make of that when it was found? He could not in that instant formulate the nature of the scandal that might ensue, but a hundred thousand pounds paid by a prominent QC to a homosexual blackmailer …

  He and Camilla went into their respective robing rooms adjacent to the court. Leo took off his tie and slipped on his gown, thinking feverishly. He had put the envelope into the post tray yesterday evening, he recalled. It would go this morning. He must ring chambers. Never had his hands fumbled over his wretched bands as they did now. He pulled his mobile phone from the pocket of his jacket and rang the number of the clerks’ room. Robert answered.

  ‘Robert, listen, has the post tray been emptied this morning?’

  ‘Hold on a minute, sir, let me have a look …’ The longest six seconds in the world elapsed, and then, before Robert could come back on the line, Leo’s phone gave a little beep and went dead. The battery had gone. Leo had failed to recharge it the night before. He swore and thrust it back into his pocket. There was no time now to borrow anyone else’s phone. He would have to go into court. Olby would be arriving any minute.

  Leo slid into his seat next to Camilla just as the usher declared ‘Court rise!’ Mr Justice Olby trotted in, as he had done every day for the last sixty-four days, and the final couple of hours of the Lloyd’s litigation got underway. As he glanced at the clock, Leo remembered the book which Fred Fenton had opened among all the lawyers on when the case would end, to the exact hour and minute. There had been some argument as to whether they would time it by their watches, or by the court clock, which was fast. Eventually they had agreed to go by the time which appeared on the court stenographer’s transcript. Leo, when he had made his guess of twelve-twenty and put in his money, had had no idea he would find himself earnestly praying that Fred Fenton, who had made the earliest estimate at eleven-thirty, might win.

  As the clock ticked towards twelve-fifteen, Conor Grimley was still wringing the final drops from some drearily confused issue concerning the relationship of various litigants-in-person. ‘My Lord, the point I make, and obviously my learned friend has not taken it, is that unless and until there is evidence saying that Mrs Aldous is Mr Denman’s sister, which I know not one way or the other, there is no evidence before your Lordship giving your Lordship that information …’

  Come on, please, thought Leo. While Conor bumbled on, Robert could be emptying the post tray, consigning that letter to its fatal destination. Perhaps it had already gone …

  Mr Justice Olby, however, was as anxious to conclude the proceedings as anyone else, as he had already arranged to be at Ascot that afternoon. He looked up wearily as Conor drifted to a halt.

  ‘Mr Grimley, is that all you have to say on that matter?’

  ‘My Lord, yes …’

  ‘Right. Anybody want to say anything else?’ No one stirred. Mr Justice Olby dived briskly into his closing address. ‘This has been a long and difficult case. I express my gratitude to the teams who have worked tirelessly on the case for their support and assistance, to leading and junior counsel on both sides for their comprehensive presentations and submissions, to the stenographers for the efficient production of the transcript, and to the court staff and my clerk, who have had to put up with long hours. I direct that further communication with the Court must be through solicitors. No letter should be sent to me direct by a litigating or non-litigating Name. I will aim to deliver judgment by about the last week of October or the first week of November.’ As the transcript time of twelve twenty-one showed on every laptop throughout the courtroom, Mr Justice Olby rose.

  Camilla, putting her papers together for the last time, was about to say something to Leo when he asked, ‘Have you got your mobile?’ Aware from the tone of his voice that it was urgent, she took her phone from her bag and switched it on, and handed it to Leo without a word. Leo went quickly out to the robing room and rang chambers again.

  ‘Robert? My battery went dead earlier. Has the post gone?’

  ‘No, sir,’ replied Robert. ‘Well, it would have gone half an hour ago, but from the way you sounded earlier I guessed there was something you wanted held back.’

  God bless that boy, thought Leo, for his perspicacity and intelligence. ‘Well done, absolutely right,’ said Leo. ‘There’s a letter in there, my handwriting, with an Ealing address on it.’

  After a couple of seconds, Robert said, ‘Yeah, got it, Mr Davies. A Mr Smallwood, Dresden Road?’

  Leo closed his eyes in relief. ‘That’s the one. Hold on to it for me till I get back. The rest can go.’

  ‘Right you are, sir.’

  Leo switched off the phone. He sat there in the robing room, feeling drained. Paul Rollason came in, tugging off his bands. Well done,’ he said. ‘The transcript time came in at twelve twenty-one.’

  ‘Did it?’ said Leo. ‘I wasn’t paying attention.’

  As they waited to cross at the traffic lights, Leo noticed that Camilla looked preoccupied. ‘What’s up with you?’ he asked.

  ‘How well did you know that man, the one who was found dead yesterday?’

  ‘I told you. Hardly at all. He was one of the Names. He and his mother.’ Poor Lady Henrietta; Gid
eon had been the light of her life. ‘He never came to court, though, so you wouldn’t have met him.’

  ‘Good. He sounded a pretty dreadful person.’ They turned through the gate into Middle Temple Lane. ‘I didn’t like to think there were more awful things you hadn’t told me.’

  Leo felt suddenly weary. He shrugged. ‘Maybe there’s no end to them.’ He stopped at the foot of the stairs leading up to chambers. ‘If you feel it’s all too much, that you really can’t live with someone like me, I will understand.’

  Camilla said nothing. At that moment Robert came out, on his way to lunch.

  ‘Oh, Mr Davies, that letter you wanted kept back – it’s on my desk in the clerks’ room.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Leo turned to Camilla. ‘Don’t wait for me – I want to talk to Robert about a couple of things.’

  Camilla went into chambers, thinking about what Leo had just said. She picked up her post from her pigeonhole in the clerks’ room and, passing Robert’s desk on the way out, she glanced down and saw the letter which Robert had mentioned to Leo a moment earlier. There on the envelope, in Leo’s distinctive handwriting, was Gideon Smallwood’s name, and his Ealing address. The address of the flat in which he had been found dead. She stared at it, realising in those seconds how easily Leo had lied to her.

  For five minutes, Leo and Robert stood outside chambers discussing bookshelf sizes. When they had finished, and Leo was about to go, Robert added, ‘By the way, that’s a shame about Mr Cross.’

  Leo looked back at him quickly. ‘What about him?’

  ‘Apparently, he’s leaving.’ Seeing Leo’s expression, he added hastily. ‘Sorry – I thought you knew.’

  ‘No. No, I didn’t.’

  Leo went slowly up the steps and stood on the threshold. He could hardly imagine life in chambers without Anthony, without the daily sight of the boy, his smile, the sound of his voice. This was the damage he had done. By trying to play down Anthony’s significance in his life, abusing and betraying his trust and affection, he had driven him to the point where he wanted to get away, never to have to see Leo again. Anthony’s love, which he had taken for granted and squandered, was his no longer. What, wondered Leo, was the point of trying to give new direction to his life, in the face of that simple truth?