Errors of Judgment

by Caro Fraser

  ‘Personal?’ Baroness Paradeep asked Julian. ‘By that, you mean …?’

  Julian realised he had started something, and it had to be finished. ‘The fact is, he’s been married and has a child, but the word is that he …’ Julian wasn’t quite sure how to put it delicately. ‘That he also associates with young men.’

  ‘You mean he’s gay?’ said Mervyn brightly.

  ‘Well, not gay exactly. Not in the accepted sense of the word—’

  ‘That’s a pity,’ said Mervyn. ‘We don’t have enough gay judges.’

  ‘Or lesbian judges,’ pointed out Magdala.

  ‘Indeed. Gay or lesbian. Gay and lesbian.’

  ‘Have we any?’ asked Ian Cole.

  ‘Any what?’ asked Sir Alastair.

  ‘Gay judges.’ Mervyn caught Magdala’s eye. ‘Or lesbian.’

  ‘I have not the faintest idea,’ sighed Sir Alastair. ‘Julian, you were saying?’

  ‘Well, as I understand it, he has been known to have … ah … relations with both men and women, but I really don’t see how—’

  Magdala interrupted. ‘You mean he’s bi.’ She glanced round the group and met a few perplexed expressions. ‘Bisexual.’ Faces cleared.

  ‘Yes, I believe that’s the term,’ murmured Julian.

  ‘Well, that’s wonderful!’ exclaimed Mervyn. ‘To have a bisexual on the bench – it makes us look very liberal and open-minded. I don’t suppose there’s any chance that he’s TG?’ Faces looked perplexed once more. ‘Transgender. I went to a diversity workshop about all this. Or undergoing GR? Undergoing gender reassignment? It’s when they perform surgery to remove—’

  ‘TMI,’ said Dudley abruptly. More perplexed faces.

  ‘Too much information,’ said Magdala impatiently. ‘Can we—?’

  ‘Because,’ went on Mervyn, ‘that really would be a feather in our cap.’

  ‘The government is very keen on that kind of thing,’ agreed Ian Cole. ‘Wasn’t Gordon Brown going on recently about celebrating BLTs, or something?’

  ‘No, no.’ Baroness Paradeep shook her head. ‘A BLT is a kind of sandwich. It was something else. LGTG? Yes, that’s it, I think – lesbian, gay, transgender, maybe.’

  ‘It’s lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender,’ sighed Magdala. ‘LGBT.’

  ‘Gordon Brown wouldn’t know anything about that. He just parrots these things out.’

  ‘I think we’re straying from the point,’ interjected Lady Daphne. ‘A candidate’s sexual life is neither here nor there. And I think it’s rather patronising to seek to elevate people because of their sexual orientation.’ Mervyn folded his arms. ‘The fact is, Leo Davies is an outstanding candidate. He certainly appears to fulfil all the intellectual and professional criteria and I, for one, am not prepared to look beyond that.’ She glanced at Sir Vivian. ‘Does that answer your concerns?’

  Sir Vivian inclined his head gravely. ‘I merely feel I have a duty to ensure that this committee is fully informed of matters which may affect a candidate’s acceptability. I fully accept that a person’s sexuality should be neither here nor there, but when in their private life an individual has strayed more than once into areas of potential – or actual – scandal, one has to ask if there is not a danger that at some point in the future that person’s behaviour might affect their ability to discharge what is, after all, a vitally important public office, and one which calls for the very highest standards of personal integrity and responsibility.’

  These portentous words had the desired effect on the rest of the committee.

  Sir Alastair looked solemn. ‘You say scandal. I was not aware—’

  ‘Wasn’t there something a few years back,’ mused Gregory Hind, ‘about some woman attempting to commit suicide, and he was involved in some way? I forget the details.’

  ‘You are correct. It was a matter involving a female journalist who, I believe, had incriminating information concerning Mr Davies which he was anxious should not get into the public realm,’ supplied Sir Vivian. This was more than a slight distortion of the truth, but he knew that no one’s memory would be long enough to recall the real events. The incident in question had involved an obsessed and somewhat batty tabloid journalist who had stalked Leo for months, and who had ultimately made a botched suicide attempt to gain the attention not only of Leo, but of the rest of the world. The story had made it to the front page of The Sun. ‘She tried to kill herself,’ went on Sir Vivian, ‘but failed, and thereafter the matter was hushed up.’

  The faces of the committee registered concern, not to say interest. Sir Vivian continued, ‘A year earlier Mr Davies’ name was also linked to the death in suspicious – indeed, somewhat unnatural – circumstances of a civil servant, whom I shall not name, though he was in fact the principal private secretary to a prominent member of the cabinet of the day. That individual was known to frequent male brothels – a subsequent police raid on one of these places revealed the involvement of underage youths who were supposed to be in the care of the local authority. And after his death it was also revealed that the individual had been involved in blackmailing men in public office who were in fact gay, but who did not wish it to become publically known. He and Mr Davies were close friends, and their social paths often crossed, so how narrowly Mr Davies avoided being caught up in these scandalous events is not for me to say—’

  Gregory Hind cut in. ‘No, quite. And I think we have to be very careful not to make potentially libellous allegations in this committee room.’

  Again Sir Vivian inclined his head. ‘I have no intention of overstepping the mark. There are certain other matters relating to this candidate within my personal knowledge, but it is the very fact that I cannot speak openly about them which has persuaded me to refer to events which are already within the public domain, albeit from a few years ago, which themselves raise questions about this candidate’s suitability. I shall say no more.’

  The beautiful fluency of Sir Vivian’s utterances had had a somewhat numbing effect on the minds of the committee members, but had at the same time awoken in them concerns which, had they been better defined, might have troubled them less. As it was, they were left with the distinct – or indistinct – impression that Leo Davies was, or could become, a liability.

  ‘Well,’ said Sir Alastair, ‘I am not entirely convinced that these matters affect—’

  He stopped. ‘Then again, the issue of good character is very important, if not crucial …’ He paused once more, frowning. He was conscious of the accumulation of a considerable amount of painfully bloating wind, and felt he could not safely remain in his seat without imminent risk of embarrassment. He badly needed to escape to a lavatory, or to some other private place. ‘I think in the circumstances we shall have to defer this candidate’s application and possibly – I say possibly – return to it another time. Does anyone have anything to add?’

  Lady Justice Hunter seemed to be about to say something, but didn’t. Gregory Hind frowned, evidently not entirely happy, and shook his head. The others said nothing.

  ‘Then perhaps we can end this session here.’

  There was a murmuring and a shuffling of papers, and the committee members rose and filed from the room. Sir Vivian, the last to leave, was well satisfied. He doubted very much if Leo Davies would be on the High Court Bench this time next year. Or any year.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Jacqueline and Gabrielle were having coffee on the fifth floor of Harvey Nichols after spending Saturday afternoon trawling the fag end of the sales. The acquisitive companionability of clothes shopping had given way to a mother-daughter lull, and Jacqueline was looking for topics to brighten the conversation.

  ‘So,’ she asked, ‘are you still seeing that very good-looking man who came to us on Christmas? I’ve forgotten his name.’

  ‘Anthony? Yes. We’re having dinner at some new restaurant in Mayfair tonight.’

  ‘How lovely to have a boyfriend who can take you to expensive places.’


  Gabrielle shrugged, glancing around the restaurant. Then she asked, ‘What kind of thing did you and Leo do when you were going out together?’

  ‘Well …’ Jacqueline thought for a moment, trying to extract something suitable from her recollections, which consisted largely of long hours in bed, making love. ‘I suppose the usual things that young people do. We both worked in the day, so it was just evenings and weekends. Nights. Summer nights. There was a pub on the river we used to go to. We just …’ She shrugged. ‘Spent time together. It was only six weeks. Not long. There were a lot of parties. We met at a party.’ She stopped. ‘You know, now that he is in your life, I find it odd to talk to you about those times.’

  Gabrielle was silent for a moment. ‘I suppose it must be weird.’ Then she added, ‘You must have been amazingly careless to get pregnant.’

  ‘I suppose I was. I was on the Pill, but these things can happen. Sometimes it’s a subconscious desire. Maybe that sounds silly?’

  ‘No.’

  Jacqueline gave her a glance. ‘Don’t you be careless.’

  Gabrielle smiled. ‘What? Are you saying you wish you’d been more careful, that I had never happened?’

  Jacqueline smiled in return. ‘You know I don’t wish that. I could never wish my beautiful, clever daughter away. But it wasn’t ideal. It was very hard for a long time.’

  ‘You should have told him.’

  ‘I almost did. But I knew that Leo wasn’t a man who would ever be tied down. There seemed no point. It would just have been messy and unhappy. Anyway, as I say, I don’t want to revisit all that.’

  ‘OK.’ Gabrielle drank the remains of her coffee. ‘You want to know a funny thing?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Leo and Anthony work in the same chambers. They’re old friends.’

  ‘No! What a coincidence.’ Jacqueline pondered this. ‘Maybe I should invite them both to one of my dinner parties. Would that be fun?’

  ‘Possibly.’ The waitress brought the bill. Then Gabrielle said, ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Now, don’t go taking this the wrong way, or anything – I know you’re very broad-minded, but … well, anyway. Do you think Leo, when you knew him, was ever interested in boys? I mean, that he might be bisexual?’

  Jacqueline laughed in astonishment. ‘No, I never thought that! Not for a moment! What an extraordinary thing!’ She handed a twenty to the waitress. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Oh, nothing. Well, something I heard. A rumour.’

  ‘It’s a long time since I knew him. Who knows the kind of man he is nowadays? Maybe … well, let’s not speculate. Nowadays such things don’t matter. People are what they are.’

  ‘Very “Cage Aux Folles”, Mummy. Very liberal.’

  ‘But it’s true! Don’t laugh at me. I really don’t care.’ Jacqueline took her change. ‘Do you?’

  ‘Do I? Of course not. I’m just intrigued.’

  ‘Well, Leo is an intriguing man. Let’s leave it at that.’ She put her purse into her handbag. ‘Shall we go?’

  It was over three weeks since Sarah had moved out. Leo was surprised how much he missed her. Even if living with her had lacked the erotic angle he’d anticipated, her presence in the house had given it energy and cheerfulness, evoking memories of the Oxford summer. The physical distance which she maintained had been puzzling and frustrating, after the passionate interlude of Grand Night, but he had put it down to the break-up with Toby. It had clearly affected her more than she had expected. Understandable, he supposed. Sex was always something that could be put on hold.

  Now that she was gone, Leo found himself mulling over the situation, wondering if he hadn’t misread it. She’d said she had changed her mind about marrying Toby – hadn’t she? On the strength of which he’d set about seducing her, thinking she wanted it as much as he did, that she didn’t care about the risk to her relationship with Toby. But what if his assumption had been wrong? What if, without his interference, she and Toby might still be together? If that was the case, she probably blamed him as much as herself. No wonder she’d wanted, in the end, to get away.

  Leo had never much cared where his desires led him, or what chaos they wrought in other people’s lives, but the idea that he might have been responsible in some measure for destroying Sarah’s happiness – even if he had thought Toby not good enough for her – troubled him. She was someone he truly valued. It was as though she was a part of him. Even in the last few years, when they had seen nothing of one another, she had always been there, in some corner of his mind. And now he might have estranged her for good.

  Sarah had just come back from the supermarket when her mobile buzzed. She set down the shopping, kicked the front door shut, and pulled her phone from her pocket. When she saw Leo’s name on the screen, her heart dipped, and as she took the call, her fingers shook a little.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hi. I just called to see how you are.’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks.’

  ‘How’s the new job going?’

  ‘It’s great. I’m working hard, making sure I keep my nose clean. My boss Geraldine is vaguely insane, but really nice.’

  ‘That’s good. And the new flat?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s fine. I’m still getting used to it. I only got the rest of my stuff out of storage last weekend, so the place isn’t quite straight. But I like the area. Actually, I realise I prefer Fulham to Kensington. Less up itself. More of a buzz.’

  ‘Not much buzz around here. Without you, I mean.’

  ‘I should think you prefer the peace and quiet. And having less mess. I wasn’t a very tidy house guest.’

  ‘I miss all that. I miss you.’ There was silence for a moment, then Leo said, ‘Look, I called to see how you were, but also because I felt I had to say something about – about what was going on while you were here.’

  ‘Please, let’s forget it.’

  ‘I know why you left, and I don’t blame you. I should have said something at the time.’

  She saw he was intent on being serious. Her heart sank a little. Why tell her now about his lover? She didn’t want to know. ‘It doesn’t matter. Just took me a while to realise.’

  So she did have regrets about Toby. The least he could do was apologise for the part he’d played. ‘I’m sorry. My expectations were crass. I probably took it too much for granted, that you and I understood one another.’

  ‘We do. Maybe that’s why neither of us is very good at bringing things out into the open.’

  ‘Maybe. I just hate to think that our relationship has been damaged.’

  ‘Honestly, that’s not something you should be worrying about.’

  ‘Well, it is. I don’t want to lose you.’

  She gave a wry smile. Typical. Always wanting to have his cake and eat it. ‘Leo, there is nothing to lose. That’s the way it’s always been between us. We just have to get on with our lives.’

  ‘That has a ring of finality about it. I’d like to think we could see one another occasionally.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I don’t think that things can ever really be over between us.’

  She closed her eyes. The last thing she needed, at this point in her life, was to get drawn back into Leo’s amoral, cruel world. These were games she was no longer able to play. But she couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing him. ‘Maybe we can have lunch sometime.’ It was the best she could do.

  ‘That’s not—’

  ‘Look, I have to go. Maybe I’ll be in touch. Thanks for ringing.’ She ended the call.

  Leo stood in the silence of his kitchen, phone in hand. He wandered out into the garden, bracing himself against the cold, and paced around the lawn. He wondered if she would get back with Toby. No, he couldn’t see Sarah as a teacher’s wife. She had been honest about that part. But perhaps not about losing Toby’s love. That had obviously been hard. Sarah, for all her callous ways, needed someone to love her. If she
had stayed, who knew how things might have developed? As it was, they would never know.

  That evening, Anthony and Gabrielle dined at Corrigan’s in Mayfair.

  ‘That,’ said Gabrielle, as the waiter took away the dessert plates, ‘was fantastic. But you don’t have to keep taking me to expensive restaurants. I’d be just as happy with Pizza Express.’

  ‘You couldn’t get wine like this at Pizza Express,’ replied Anthony, pouring the remains of the bottle into their glasses. ‘Would you like coffee?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m fine, thanks.’

  Anthony signalled for the bill, and Gabrielle studied the label on the empty wine bottle. ‘Vitovska, 2002,’ she read. ‘What’s so wonderful about it?’

  ‘What’s wonderful is that it’s not something you’ll drink every day. It’s made from a grape that grows only in the limestone region around Trieste.’ He took a sip. ‘That slight astringency comes from the skins. I think it’s an amazing wine. Can’t you taste the wild herbs?’

  Gabrielle took a sip and smiled. ‘Yes, now you mention it. I wish you’d told me I was drinking something special. I might have treated it with a little more respect, instead of just glugging it back.’ The waiter had brought the bill; Gabrielle squinted, reading it upside down. ‘My God! I can’t believe you’re paying that for a bottle of wine! Seriously, this is wasted on me.’

  Anthony leant across and kissed her. ‘You’re worth every penny.’ He gazed into her blue-grey eyes. ‘Do you know how amazing you are?’

  She smiled. ‘You’re pretty special yourself. But seriously, I would be just as happy with a Four Seasons and a Peroni.’

  ‘I’ll remember that next time.’

  ‘So, where did you learn about wine? All that stuff about limestone.’

  ‘Leo Davies, the friend I told you about. I was a very raw and callow young thing when I joined chambers, and he decided to educate me in the ways of the world. I knew nothing about anything. He used to take me to expensive restaurants, order the best wines, and teach me about the various regions, the different grapes, what to look for. It’s not difficult to learn.’