by Caro Fraser
The others murmured in agreement, and began to make their way slowly towards the top of the staircase. They were met by the tall, easy figure of Piers as he mounted the steps. He paused when he saw them.
‘Hullo, boys and girls,’ he said languidly, as they all, except Anthony, greeted him enthusiastically. He and Piers had not met since the weekend at Edward’s, although they had glimpsed one another occasionally at their business around the courts. Now Piers glanced at him, reached out a large arm, and slapped him slowly and heavily on the back. ‘Haven’t seen you about for a bit. Jolly good, Tony.’ He sounded bored.
‘We’re getting out of here,’ Julia said to Piers. ‘It’s far too hot.’ She pulled at his sleeve. ‘Watch out, you’re in everyone’s way.’ People on the narrow staircase were peering around Piers’ large thighs, trying to get past.
‘Oops, sorry,’ said Piers casually, moving a couple of inches so that a stocky, red-faced young man still had to squeeze past, glaring at Piers. Piers’ eyes followed his annoyed figure with lazy amusement. ‘Little shit,’ he murmured, then said, ‘Well, love to join you, but I’ve got to meet my – ah – companion for the evening.’ And he prepared to move on.
‘Who’s that?’ asked Julia.
‘No one you know, precious,’ said Piers, stroking her lightly under the chin with a dismissive forefinger.
Julia jerked her chin up in annoyance and pulled away crossly, following Edward and David down the stairs. Anthony glanced after Piers, his tall figure making its assured way through the crowd. He bet Piers didn’t have to hire his dinner jacket. Bastard.
In the gardens, women in long dresses and men in evening suits were milling about on the lawn, sipping at glasses of champagne. Assured, cultivated voices carried clearly in the soft evening air. Anthony and his friends made their way to the marquee; the little pennants that ornamented its top drifted in the faint breeze that was picking up. Maids stood at the entrance with large silver salvers of champagne in glasses. Edward popped inside the tent for a moment to look at the seating plan, then re-emerged.
‘Good stuff,’ he said. ‘Piers is on our table.’
‘Oh,’ said Anthony, ‘wonderful.’ Julia glanced at him.
‘Anthony!’ she murmured warningly. He moved away with her from the others.
‘Well, I can’t stand the sight of the man. He’s a shit.’
‘You’re still jealous!’
Anthony laughed. ‘Tell me what I’ve got to be jealous of, then. You still haven’t exactly enlightened me as to how you spent your time when you weren’t seeing me.’ Some malevolent demon seemed to have possessed him; he felt quarrelsome and impatient.
‘I don’t believe you!’ exclaimed Julia. ‘You – you suddenly announce that we’re not going out together any more, and then you expect me to account for my behaviour while I’m not seeing you! That’s a bit thick!’ She glared at him. ‘Look, I want to enjoy this evening. I don’t want to hear you carping on about Piers any more. Right? Now, if you can’t behave cheerfully, don’t talk to me!’ She stalked off to fetch herself another glass of champagne. Anthony stared at the grass for a moment. It wasn’t that he was jealous of Piers at all, he thought. He frankly didn’t care.
They wandered about the lawn, making conversation with various people. Anthony found himself buttonholed by Earnest Slattery, who remembered him from the case in the House of Lords; his kind, enthusiastic conversation did something to restore Anthony’s spirits.
‘I don’t think you’ve met my wife, have you?’ He turned his thin, stooping figure to address her. ‘Margaret, this is Anthony Cross.’ He pronounced it ‘Crawss’. ‘He’s a very bright young man indeed, or so I’m given to understand.’ Anthony smiled and shook hands with Mrs Slattery. He wondered what she was knitting now. ‘Very interesting case, the Lindos, don’t you think?’ remarked Slattery conversationally.
Anthony murmured in agreement, hoping that he wasn’t going to be required to dredge up too much by way of specific recollection.
‘Now, I don’t think we really deserved to win that one,’ said Earnest Slattery thoughtfully. ‘You were there for that one, dear, I think?’ he asked his wife. Mrs Slattery said she thought that she recollected it, but couldn’t be sure.
‘I go to quite a few,’ she confided to Anthony. ‘Quite keeps my mind alert, you know.’ She nodded, smiling. Earnest Slattery nodded, too.
‘I thought it was jolly bad luck that you lost. Of course, Buckhurst was against you right from the start. That was your problem …’
They chatted for some minutes, and then the Slatterys excused themselves and drifted off. Anthony thought he heard Mrs Slattery say, ‘… nice young man,’ as she walked away. He looked around for Julia, and caught sight of her talking to one of the Commercial Court judges, Mr Justice Coker, from whom he had recently earned a rebuke during an interlocutory application for bringing the wrong document. He didn’t feel like talking to him. He turned around quickly, and his heart jumped. Leo was walking across the grass towards him. He looked particularly well in evening dress, elegant and at ease. Anthony noticed that he was smoking a small cigar. He smiled at Anthony, his face a mask of social amiability.
‘Hello, Anthony,’ he said. ‘How’s life?’
‘Fine,’ replied Anthony, trying to collect himself. His eyes traced every one of Leo’s features, the blue, amused eyes, the prominent lines of his cheekbones, the square jaw and smiling mouth. Leo took a small puff of his cigar and blew a little smoke into the air above Anthony’s head. Anthony found the gesture a little ridiculous, touching. Over Leo’s shoulder, he noticed the pink edge of evening beginning to creep across the sky. He felt himself grow calmer, and smiled at Leo, happy to be with him again.
‘How was your trip?’ he asked.
‘Very good,’ replied Leo, taking another little puff of his cigar and glancing at it. ‘I’d never been to Japan before. It’s a fascinating place.’ He talked to Anthony about Japan for a minute or two, apparently with his mind on the subject, but his eyes intently absorbed the features of the face that he had tried so often to summon to mind while away. Memory could not possibly hope to reproduce such vivid charm, he now realised. He stopped talking, the better to enjoy the delight of Anthony’s presence.
‘I finished that piece of work you left me,’ remarked Anthony, to fill the little pause between them.
‘Good, good,’ said Leo vaguely. He couldn’t even remember what it was. Against his better judgment, Anthony added, ‘I found the piece of paper you left me.’
Leo looked at him. ‘Piece of paper?’
Anthony knew it was too late to retrace the step. ‘The poem,’ he said uncertainly, his voice low. Leo frowned at him; then his face grew suddenly cold.
‘I don’t know what on earth you’re talking about.’ Anthony felt himself flush, and looked away. There was a frigid pause. ‘Excuse me,’ said Leo. He chucked his cigar into the grass and strolled away. He knew very well what Anthony was talking about, but it had come as a shock. He remembered jotting the lines down as he sat at home, thinking of Anthony, putting the papers in order for him before his trip. He had forgotten about it entirely, and Anthony must have found it mixed up with the documents. He was filled with a cold fury at himself, at allowing this charade to begin again. And so must follow, he thought savagely, more indiscretions, more humiliations, more deceit, and all the indignities that his position must entail. If he allowed it. If he allowed it. I shall not, he told himself as he strode across the grass, allow it. I shall not.
Anthony stood for a moment, uncertain, filled with a sudden flaring of humiliation. Why had he mentioned it? What a ludicrous thing to have done! What had he expected Leo to say? Yes, it was for you, because I adore you? God, what a thing to have done. He stood for an unhappy few seconds, staring at the glass in his hand. Maybe he had been mistaken, the poem a misplaced irrelevance.
He recovered himself at the sound of the voice of his head of chambers.
‘Anthony!
Good evening,’ said Sir Basil. Anthony managed a feeble smile. This was all he needed.
‘Good evening, sir.’
Sir Basil was feeling silkily happy, still glowing with the warmth of the little private sherry party given by the Benchers earlier. He smiled benevolently at Anthony.
‘I don’t think we’ve really had much of an opportunity for conversation since you joined us, have we?’ Anthony wondered if this was always going to be his opening line.
‘No,’ he replied, keeping his smile fixed. ‘Not since Christmas, or thereabouts.’ He added the last two words to make it sound less challenging. He felt wretched and on edge.
‘Ah, yes,’ said Sir Basil, rosy with recollection. He had entirely forgotten Anthony’s father. ‘Oh, yes, thank you,’ he murmured to a passing maid, who replenished his glass and Anthony’s, then passed on. ‘Yes, Christmas. I think we had a little chat about your future plans, didn’t we? I think I mentioned something about Dover Court, if I recall.’ He frowned. ‘Mmm. Time is pressing on. You’ll have to start thinking seriously about where you’re going next. You have considerable talent, I understand,’ he said gravely, shaking his head, ‘and we mustn’t let you waste it.’
‘Oh, I shan’t waste it,’ said Anthony.
‘No, indeed you mustn’t. Michael tells me you have great ability. I hope you feel that your time with us has been valuably spent?’
‘Michael has given me every encouragement,’ replied Anthony. ‘He has persuaded me that I have every chance of – of becoming the next tenant.’ It occurred to Anthony that it might have been better not to have said that. But listening to that pompous old windbag, full of sherry and his own unquestionable ability to dictate everyone else’s lives for them, had become too much. Full of sherry he might be, but Sir Basil was too fast on his feet to be wrong-footed by anyone. He smiled sagely at Anthony.
‘Just so, young man,’ he replied, and raised his glass a little. ‘It is important, of course, that you should continue to think so. My every good wish for your endeavours.’ He took a sip, nodded at Anthony, and moved away.
It was with relief that Anthony heard dinner being announced and saw Julia shimmering towards him, her humour improved by the success of her appearance and the gratifying masculine attention she was commanding.
‘Come on,’ she said in a friendly way, ‘I was wondering where you’d got to.’ She kissed his cheek lightly. For some reason, the gesture irritated him. What a sod I am, he thought. ‘Wasn’t that your head of chambers?’ she asked, as they made their way into the marquee. ‘I thought he looked a perfect sweetie.’
The words sounded to him absurd. ‘Perfect sweetie’, he thought. Babble, babble, babble.
They found their table and sat down with Edward and Hermione. David and Anthea joined them, and then William with a young woman he introduced as Linda. Anthony thought he had seen her several times in and around the Commercial Court, and said so.
They chatted for a few minutes as the marquee filled up and people took their places. And then William said, ‘Who else is on our table, David?’
‘Piers Hunt-Thompson,’ replied David, ‘and someone called’ – he leant over and squinted at the place card – ‘Lady Juliet Fry.’
‘I say,’ said Edward mildly. ‘What about the other two places?’
‘It’s Leo and some woman,’ said David. ‘I looked on the way in.’ Anthony felt that this was not going to be a comfortable evening for him.
At that moment Piers and his guest arrived at the table. Anthony saw Julia glance up coldly as Piers introduced her, then look away as though uninterested. Anthony suspected the little snobberies raging in her heart. It didn’t help, he thought, that Lady Juliet was very beautiful, in ways quite different from Julia. She was dark, with a classically lovely face, her hair swept up on top of her head; her dress was a simple black affair, beautifully cut, a length of black silk caught up and falling over one shoulder, leaving the other pearly and bare. She had a long, swan-like throat, and the little jewellery that she wore looked costly. Piers looked justifiably smug. David was enraptured, and in imminent danger of losing his heart yet again. He might have been inclined to take it out of Anthea’s keeping altogether, had he known that she and Piers Hunt-Thompson had been seeing a good deal of each other lately, on and off, on the weekends when he had been down to visit his parents in Surrey. Anthea smiled and murmured to Lady Juliet, flicking her blonde hair back from her shoulders, murderous with jealousy. Piers sat back in his chair and thrust his long legs under the table, glancing idly across at Anthea for a long moment. He was rather enjoying himself.
Leo was the last to arrive. Anthony was aware that he was there, but only looked up when he was introduced to Leo’s companion. He looked at her, and not at Leo.
‘… and this, Alice, is Anthony, who is a pupil at 5 Caper Court.’ He looked at Anthony’s strained face as he spoke, and knew that Anthony had been badly wounded by his words earlier. He felt a stab of remorse, and then an inevitable counter-surge of pitilessness.
Anthony smiled and shook hands with Alice. She was an attractive, intelligent-looking woman, older than his mother, he thought, with short ash-blonde hair and perfect make-up. She was elegantly dressed, and her earrings, for some absurd reason, reminded Anthony of the sculptures he had seen at Leo’s house – angular, clinical. She seemed to be of a piece with Leo’s life, as remote and set apart as all other aspects of it. He wondered if she was more than a friend to Leo, but realised after a few moments that she was not. The fact was betrayed in the uncharged kindness of their smiles to one another and their good-humoured banter. Anthony knew that, with Leo, there would otherwise have been some emotional current that he could not have failed to detect.
Leo and Piers had not met before, and after they were introduced Anthony was quietly pleased to see that Leo watched Piers for a few cold seconds as he chatted in his loud, arrogant voice to David, and then looked away.
It had been Piers’ assumption that, as usual, he would be the glory and focus of attention at this table. It would listen to his loud voice and laugh at his stories, and he would rule with the caprice and condescension of a king. But he had bargained without Leo, the force of his personality, his natural authority and wit. He overshadowed Piers, was amusing and spellbinding, and Piers, to whom he paid scant attention, was forced to retreat into the background. As the dinner progressed, his voice could be heard rising from the other end of the table, where he and Edward were drinking wine at a furious rate.
Leo’s brilliance shone on everyone – on everyone, that is, except Anthony. In his determination, in his self-detestation, in his love, Leo was bent upon inflicting little miseries on Anthony. He did not look at him, addressed no remarks to him, did not appear to acknowledge his existence. All this was scarcely evident to anyone except Anthony himself, who knew the real worth between them of these small slights.
As the maids cleared the plates away before coffee, Julia sat back and turned to Anthony. He had noticed, with something sadder than amusement, that she had latterly been leaning forward and gazing at Leo, trying to compel him with her chatter and sparkle. She was a little drunk.
‘What a divine man!’ she said under her breath. ‘You’re lucky to have someone like that in chambers. When I think of our dreary lot.’ He poured her another glass of wine, listening idly. ‘I’ve never heard you talk about him,’ she added.
‘No,’ said Anthony, without looking at her, ‘I don’t have a great deal to do with him.’
Music started and couples drifted, slowly and rather self-consciously at first, onto the dance floor. Anthony watched as Mr Justice Coker and his tall wife whirled effortlessly and magnificently past, their faces as calm and serious as professional ballroom dancers. After a while, he roused himself and danced with Julia, holding her close and seeking some comfort in her sensual little body and familiar perfume. As they danced, he closed his eyes and kissed, for a moment, the warm skin between her shoulder and neck, and felt her
shiver with pleasure. When he opened his eyes, they were looking straight into those of Leo, who held his gaze for a fierce second before looking abruptly away. Anthony felt his heart beat painfully. He wished the man would vanish from the face of the earth.
When they sat down, the other members of their table, except Leo and Alice, were dancing. Julia commenced her bewitching assault upon Leo, who succumbed, smiled, and asked her to dance. So Anthony danced with Alice, making polite conversation, his eyes on Leo and Julia, on her small hand in his, on the other embracing his back; her head was tilted back, and her pretty mouth smiled and smiled as she talked.
The night wore on. Anthony lost track of time. They danced some more, then moved to another table to talk with friends and stayed there, drinking brandy. It was a relief to Anthony to be out of Leo’s company, although Julia’s gaze wandered constantly back to where Leo was sitting, smoking, chatting to Alice and Lady Juliet. Piers was now becoming rowdy on the dance floor with Hermione.
When they went back to the table, Leo and Alice were getting up to go.
‘Oh, you’re not going?’ exclaimed Julia, her disappointment rather too obvious.
‘Just me,’ replied Alice with a smile. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got an early start tomorrow. Leo is going to find me a taxi.’
Alice said her farewells, and Julia watched as they left the marquee. She turned to Anthony. ‘I’m just going to the ladies. Shan’t be long.’ And she left him.
Leo walked with Alice to the Embankment, and found her a taxi. He said goodnight to her and walked back round to the gardens. The air was cooler now, and through the darkness he could hear that the music had grown livelier, as the older guests departed and the younger element took over. He stood at the top of the short flight of stone steps that led down to the gardens. He should go home, too, he thought. He had sufficiently sickened himself for one evening. He was about to turn and leave, when he noticed Julia coming slowly along the gravel walk.
‘Hello,’ she said brightly, stopping and smiling up at him. ‘I got rather tired of the noise. Thought I’d get a little fresh air.’ She shivered and hugged herself momentarily, preparing to walk on.
