A Hallowed Place

by Caro Fraser

  ‘But you know, Leo, I find I have less and less contact with people in the Inn these days. All so much younger … Everything moves faster and the faces are not the same. Since Lettice died I have been thinking of moving away, perhaps to Lincoln. My daughter lives there, you know.’ Desmond sipped his whisky. ‘This place is far too large for one old man and two small dogs.’

  Leo glanced around. ‘How big is the flat?’ He really had no idea of the extent of the place.

  ‘Why, haven’t you ever seen? It takes up the entire floor. Let me show you.’ And he took Leo round, showing him the couple of rooms which he himself inhabited, then leading him up the corridor, opening doors into unlit, unused rooms as he went, some furnished with old, dark pieces of furniture, others empty, uncarpeted. ‘Of course, when we first took the flat we did a lot of entertaining, and we used the large dining room, and this as an extra drawing room. That was a guest bedroom …’ He opened another door. ‘I can’t remember if we ever used this room. Jonathan stayed with us sometimes, so perhaps it was his bedroom. I really can’t remember. No idea what became of the bed …’

  They went back into Desmond’s snug living room and Leo glanced at his watch. ‘That drinks party I told you about will be starting in ten minutes or so. I’d better be getting back.’

  Desmond shook his head as he showed Leo to the door.

  ‘Touting for business. Never done in my day. And you say you have a website? Well, I don’t know what one of those is, but I hope it’s good for business.’

  ‘I’m not sure that it is, actually,’ replied Leo with a smile. ‘Thanks for the shower. I’ll pop in again shortly.’

  ‘Don’t leave it too long,’ said Desmond, raising a hand in farewell salute. ‘I may be off to Lincoln before Christmas.’

  Felicity and Henry went to the Devereaux after work, and Henry bought himself a pint of bitter and Felicity a pineapple juice. They sat in a corner, well away from the busy bar.

  ‘So,’ said Henry, ‘what’s this decision you’ve come to?’

  Felicity heaved a long, deep sigh. ‘I think it’s the right one. In fact, I know it is. It sort of came to me the other night, after I’d been talking to my mum on the phone.’

  ‘Have you told her, then?’

  ‘No, but I will. I’ll have to.’ She looked up at Henry. ‘I’m going to have the baby.’

  Henry nodded, looking down thoughtfully at his pint, giving no outward sign of the odd pleasure and relief he felt. He had been unaware of his true feelings in the matter until now.

  ‘It was only the other night that I began to think about it properly. The baby, I mean. The fact that it is a baby. Right up until then I’d just been thinking of being pregnant in terms of myself, like it was an obstacle, just something which had happened that wasn’t convenient. But it’s a lot more than that.’

  Henry nodded. ‘It is.’ There was silence for a moment, then he added, ‘I’m very pleased, if you want to know.’

  ‘Of course I want to know - that’s why we’re here, now. Because I care about what you think.’

  ‘Do you?’ To hide his smile, Henry took another drink of his beer.

  Felicity nodded. ‘Anyway, I’m glad you think that it’s the right decision.’

  ‘I do. What about the job? Does it mean you’ll have to leave chambers for good?’ Whatever he thought about the rights and wrongs of Felicity’s situation, that prospect was a bleak one. On any terms, he wanted Felicity around.

  Felicity ran her fingers through her curly hair and sighed. ‘Maybe I can work something out. There’s nannies and things. Child-minders. I dunno. It’s mainly a question of talking Vince round. He’s a bloody chauvinist, my Vince. Maybe my mum would help out. She lives in Camberwell, not far away. I’ll have to see …’ She stared blankly at her pineapple juice, then a slow smile crept over her face. ‘Anyway, the best thing is that I can feel happy about it now. Once you’ve made a decision like that, there’s no point in being miserable any more. I’m having a baby. I can start planning. The only thing that worries me is the money.’

  ‘You get paid during maternity leave, don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, only a certain amount. And what if I can’t sort things out? What if I can’t arrange for someone to look after the baby and I have to give up the job entirely? Vince won’t get his knowledge for another couple of years, and we’ve got to live.’

  ‘He’ll just have to get some work.’

  ‘Yeah, try telling Vince that.’ She stared moodily at her drink. ‘You know, I really don’t like fruit juice. Go and get us a white wine, Henry, to cheer us up.’

  Leo, his best smile fixed firmly in place, manoeuvred his way through the evening, chatting to solicitors, laughing at jokes, making a few, conducting himself with his usual easy, polished charm. But his head ached and the mask he was wearing felt paper thin. Perhaps it was just a result of the late night and his earlier hangover, but never had he taken such a jaundiced view of the members of his own profession. Everything seemed hollow, horribly false. He listened to Jeremy Vine’s loud, plummy tones as he held forth to John Maskell, senior partner of one of the City’s wealthiest legal practices. How hard Jeremy tried, how much he wanted to impress people. And yet what a stereotype he was, a parody of all the worst portrayals of barristers on stage and screen. As Leo glanced around, it suddenly seemed to him that everyone in the room was a fake, trying too hard, eager to please, to wheel and deal, to impress and to dominate. As he stared morosely at his drink, it suddenly occurred to him that he could retire tomorrow, chuck up the place in Belgravia, go and live in Stanton with Joshua. He was fed up with the idea of moving out of the Temple, fed up with change, with Cameron dying, with everything. But would Joshua want to go and live in rural Oxfordshire? Leo had no idea of what Joshua wanted, or where the whole thing was going. He looked up, preparing to mingle and do his social bit once more, and his eye caught Sarah’s as she came across the room towards him. She gave him a wink, and he couldn’t help smiling and winking back. No matter what little schemes and games she played, at least, out of all of them, Sarah was real. She recognised all this for the bullshit it was.

  ‘You let the mask slip for a moment there,’ said Sarah as she came up to him. Leo was momentarily astonished by the accuracy with which she had read him. ‘Won’t do, you know. All these lovely solicitors whose business you’re supposed to be hungry for. You should be chatting them up.’

  ‘Just taking a brief reality break,’ said Leo and knocked back the remains of his Scotch. He hadn’t meant to drink anything this evening, but the few sips of the drink which Desmond had poured for him earlier had given him a taste for it. Besides, it helped to take the edge off his misanthropic mood. Anything was better than being sober with this lot. In fact, he felt as though he could do with another.

  ‘I thought you loved all this,’ said Sarah, widening her eyes.

  ‘Normally I can tolerate it. But lately—’ He stopped, staring down at his empty glass. It wasn’t the time and place to start unburdening his soul. Especially not to Sarah. She had a habit of putting personal information to all kinds of mischievous uses. At that moment a couple of people came over and greeted him, and Leo resumed his affable smile and began to make polite conversation.

  Sarah stayed with them for a moment or two, then excused herself and made her way over to where Anthony was chatting to Brian Potter, a solicitor in his late twenties.

  As he introduced Sarah, Anthony couldn’t help noticing the look of interest in Brian’s eyes. Every man looked at Sarah that way. He watched as Brian and Sarah conversed, and wondered if her body language was deliberate, or whether he was imagining it. She was half turned away from him, chatting and laughing with Brian, in a way which made Anthony feel mildly excluded. The manner in which she flicked her blonde hair back over her shoulders only heightened the illusion. Anthony was aware that he felt annoyed and tried to fathom the source of it. It was, he realised, that he still felt helplessly attracted to her, that maki
ng love the other night had rekindled something which he didn’t want to feel. It was the attempt to suppress it that made him feel irritated.

  A few moments later Jeremy came over with John Maskell and, annexing Anthony and drawing him over, introduced him to Maskell in a manner so patronising that it infuriated Anthony. Still, he smiled pleasantly and began to make the kind of deferential small talk appropriate to an illustrious senior partner. Glancing back at Brian and Sarah after a few moments, he saw that they appeared to have become very friendly in a short space of time, and was aware that he felt dismayed and a little jealous. He nodded and smiled while pretending to listen to something Jeremy was saying, and tried to think of Camilla. She seemed a very long way away indeed.

  By the time it was nine-thirty, people were beginning to leave in various states of inebriation. In an attempt to conquer his melancholia, Leo had drunk several Scotches on an empty stomach. Anthony realised, joining the group of people to whom Leo was talking, that Leo was a little drunk and being mildly aggressive. Since everyone else in the group seemed pissed, that didn’t matter, but Anthony was surprised at Leo. He was usually careful to keep himself in full control.

  Anthony waited for a lull in the conversation and drew him to one side. ‘Hadn’t you better steady on, Leo?’ he said mildly. ‘You’ve put away quite a lot this evening.’

  The fact that Anthony was right, that Leo knew he had drunk more than he should have, only made Leo ill-tempered. ‘Thank you, Anthony. At my age, I think I know my limit.’ A little unsteadily, Leo took another swig at his glass, only to discover it empty. With a sigh, he set it down.

  ‘Look,’ said Anthony, ‘have you—I mean, are there any problems? Anything you want to talk about?’

  Leo looked at Anthony’s anxious brown eyes, and felt a wretched sense of regret and loss. Why could it not have been Anthony, first and always? Why had it not worked out that way? There would have been a lightness about that, a kind of harmony which, he knew now, was never going to emerge with Joshua. Still, things were as they were. He was in love with Joshua, trapped by the force of his own emotions. Anthony couldn’t help, even if he wanted to.

  Leo shook his head. ‘Thanks for asking.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’ve had enough of this lot. And yes, you’re right, I’ve had too much to drink. See you in the morning.’ Abruptly he left Anthony’s side.

  Sarah crossed the room with Brian. ‘We were just talking about going to have something to eat,’ said Sarah. Her expression was bright, almost playful. ‘Do you want to join us?’

  Anthony glanced from her face to Brian’s. Brian quickly relaxed the expression of faint disappointment which had crossed his face and added, ‘Yes, why don’t you?’

  ‘All right,’ said Anthony. ‘Good idea.’ They left Caper Court together. As they reached Fleet Street, Anthony saw Leo hailing a cab. He paused on the corner and watched with a sudden feeling of concern as Leo climbed in and the cab drove away. He hoped, without conviction, that Leo was happy in this new love of his.

  As he climbed out of the cab and paid, Leo glanced up at the long first floor window of the flat and saw the glow of light behind the curtains. Gratefully he hurried up the stairs. Coming back in the taxi Leo had realised that he’d hardly eaten anything all day and had decided he would take Joshua out for a late dinner. It would be intimate, happy, and everything would be as perfect as it had been in the beginning.

  ‘Joshua?’ called Leo, closing the front door. There was music coming from the drawing room, but the volume was low, and he could hear no other voices. ‘Joshua?’ he repeated, glancing into the drawing room as he drew his scarf from round his neck. The room was empty.

  ‘Yeah?’ called Joshua, appearing in the doorway of his bedroom.

  Leo smiled. He still had his headache, but that didn’t matter any more. Joshua looked more desirable than he had ever done, dressed in some new black trousers which Leo hadn’t seen before, and a red silk Armani shirt, his golden hair newly washed and tied back, the way Leo liked it. Leo wanted to take him out and show him off to the world.

  ‘You must have read my mind. Come on, I’m going to take you out to dinner. To make up for not ringing to say I’d be late.’ He stepped forward to embrace Joshua, but Joshua had turned back into his room, bending to pick up a towel from the floor.

  ‘You’ve been drinking,’ Joshua remarked as he straightened up, turning to glance at Leo. There was nothing in his eyes. ‘You really stink of Scotch.’

  Leo felt momentarily humiliated, exposed. He shrugged, trying to maintain a dignity he did not feel. ‘We had a few drinks in chambers with some solicitors.’ He watched as Joshua moved around the room, straightening things, hanging up garments. In the corner by the window stood Joshua’s easel and on it a canvas begun two weeks before, which Joshua had not touched since. Leo’s mind flickered over the possible ways in which Joshua filled his days, but nothing seemed to possess any clear definition. ‘Come on,’ Leo said, trying to sound buoyant, sober. ‘I haven’t eaten all day and I feel like taking you somewhere special, showing you off.’ He stepped closer to Joshua. ‘What about trying—’

  But Joshua interrupted him. ‘I’m not a possession, you know, Leo.’ Then he sighed. ‘I’m sorry. It was just the way you said it – “show you off”. Like I’m a pet, or something.’ He hugged Leo briefly, kissed his cheek, then turned away. ‘I can’t come to dinner, I’m afraid. I promised some friends I’d go clubbing with them.’

  Leo said nothing for a moment. It was as though a gulf had suddenly opened up between them. The offhand manner in which Joshua spoke was the worst thing. ‘Come on, you can see them any time,’ said Leo, trying to match Joshua’s tone with a casualness he did not feel. ‘We could have a talk about the kind of car you want,’ he added quickly. How he despised himself as he said this. Did the desperation show? Was it apparent in his words, his manner?

  Joshua shrugged. ‘I promised. Anyway, you look as though you could do with an early night. Besides, I’m not hungry. Don’t wait up. I won’t be back until breakfast.’ He picked up his jacket from where it lay on the bed and put it on, brushing past Leo on his way to the front door. ‘By the way - I could do with fifty quid, if you’ve got it.’ His voice was candid, unashamed.

  Leo reached slowly into his pocket and drew out his wallet. He held out a handful of twenties. ‘Here, take a hundred.’

  Leo listened to the sound of the front door closing. He no longer felt hungry. Instead he poured himself a drink, then crossed the room and looked down from the long window, watching as Joshua crossed the darkened square and disappeared from sight.

  Anthony, Sarah and Brian went to a restaurant in Chancery Lane. Dinner was brief. Brian, realising he could make no headway with Sarah and conscious also of certain tensions between Anthony and Sarah, left early.

  Anthony polished off the remains of his wine and glanced at the empty bottle. ‘One bottle never goes far between three people. Let’s have another.’ He gestured to the waiter. There was a silence between them until the waiter returned with the wine. ‘I don’t think Brian was particularly pleased when you invited me to dinner. I rather got the idea that he hoped it would just be a cosy twosome, you and him.’

  Sarah shrugged. ‘I wanted you to come,’ she said. ‘Anyway,’ she added, ‘you could have said no if you’d wanted to.’

  ‘I was hungry.’

  ‘Hmm.’ She smiled and sipped her wine, regarding him over the rim of her glass with cat-like eyes.

  He returned her gaze. God, she was unfathomable, infuriating and very sexy. He was getting a hard-on just looking at her across the table. ‘I’ll get the bill,’ he said.

  She watched as he paid. How predictable he was. Like all men, he imagined he was in control of things, without having the first idea of the ways in which he was being manipulated. She reached for her handbag and pulled out some money, handing it to Anthony. ‘My share.’

  ‘Put it away,’ said Anthony. ‘I earn more than you do. Besides
, Brian left more than he needed to.’

  They left the restaurant and walked together down to Temple tube station. They spoke very little during the walk and Anthony was careful not to touch Sarah or even brush against her. Contradictory thoughts and emotions plagued him.

  As they reached the platform, a Richmond train was coming in. Sarah sighed and sat down on one of the platform seats. ‘I’m going to wait for a Wimbledon train. It’s a drag having to change at Earl’s Court.’ She yawned and glanced at Anthony. ‘You can get this one, can’t you?’

  It was true. Any of the trains would take him to South Kensington, whereas Sarah was going to Fulham. He hesitated, then sat down on a seat next to her. ‘I’ll wait with you,’ said Anthony. ‘It is rather late, after all. I don’t mind changing.’ They watched in silence as the tube doors closed with a hiss and the train pulled out.

  A Wimbledon train came in a few minutes later, and Anthony and Sarah got on. At ten-thirty on a Friday evening the carriage was crowded and they had to stand. Sarah glanced idly around, apparently reading the ads, while Anthony stood close to her, feeding his longing for her by breathing in her scent, catching warm, small currents of movement from her body as the train jolted along. He counted the stops. As the train came into Earl’s Court station, people surged and jostled towards the doors. Anthony half turned, willing himself to get off with the rest of the crowd, framing his farewell in his mind. Sarah turned to look at him and smiled. There was something so provocative in her eyes that Anthony found he couldn’t move. Behind him he heard people getting off the train, then the doors closed.