by Caro Fraser
You bitch, thought Leo. When he spoke his voice was cold with fury. ‘This isn’t about morality - don’t you understand that, you stupid woman? You’re lying to yourself and to me, and to everyone else, if you think that. I love Oliver. I am as I am, but I wouldn’t let anything about it affect or hurt my son. You know that - Christ, you know that, but you just won’t admit it.’
He slammed the phone down, and automatically and unthinkingly snatched a small crystal tumbler from the drinks cabinet and reached for the Scotch. Then he realised what he was doing and put them both back. He sat there, letting his anger die away.
Joshua passed through the ticket barrier and came out of Sloane Square tube station into the chilly October air. He turned right into Cliveden Place and headed towards Eaton Gate at a brisk walk. Then after a few moments his pace slackened and he came to a halt, leaning against some railings. He still didn’t think he had any clear idea of what he was going to do or say when he got to Leo’s. There was a lot he’d missed over the past few days. A sleeping bag on Les’s floor didn’t exactly compare with the comfort of his bedroom in the Belgravia flat and the last of his money was running out. Still, he had a job starting next week - places always seemed to be on the lookout for good-looking waiters with enough charm and experience - and the up side was that he had his independence back. He did miss Leo a bit, but it was a relief to be free of the pressure of all that affection, no longer to be the focus of someone’s desires and expectations. He couldn’t live with that any more. Much as he liked Leo, he knew he could never become what Leo wanted him to be. Joshua pushed himself away from the railings and started to walk again. All that stuff about his paintings, maybe getting him an exhibition. Could Leo have done that for him? Maybe. Then again, maybe Leo had hoped it would be a way of making him stay, by promising things … Leaving Leo had also had something to do with Katie, that girl at the party. He’d really wanted her, wanted her in a way that being with Leo couldn’t compare with. Not any man. That had started out as a way of making money and look what it had turned into. No, he wasn’t going back to that. He was glad he’d left. But Leo had been really good to him, really generous, and he was grateful for that. He just hoped that he could pick up his things without any fuss and they could part amicably.
The sound of the buzzer to the flat made Leo jump. When the welfare officers announced themselves through the intercom, he pressed the button for the downstairs entrance and stood waiting for them at the open door of his flat. There were two of them, a woman in her mid-thirties, plump, short-haired, dressed in leggings and a long, beige anorak, scruffier than Leo had expected, and carrying a clipboard and notebook. With her was a nondescript, unsmiling young man whose handshake was damp and flabby.
The woman, who was clearly in charge, introduced herself as Mrs Jenkins, and her colleague as Mr Purser. Young Mr Purser glanced round the interior of Leo’s drawing room with a melancholy eye, as though he didn’t quite approve of what he saw. Mrs Jenkins, smiling benignly, began to ask Leo questions about his work. They made a tour of inspection of the flat, Mrs Jenkins nodding and making notes, Leo accompanying them diffidently, feeling somewhat humiliated by this scrutiny. When they returned to the living room, Mrs Jenkins glanced round at Leo’s collection of modern art and at the ceiling-high bookshelves and remarked, ‘It’s certainly a very grand place, Mr Davies. Quite palatial.’ She said this in such a way as to make Leo feel it might have been better for him if he’d lived in a modest little semi. ‘No garden, though, of course.’
‘There is a garden,’ said Leo. ‘It’s a communal garden, in the square. Only the residents have access. Oliver could play there.’ He went to the window with Mrs Jenkins while Mr Purser stared glumly at a shelf full of plays and poetry books. ‘Or there are the local parks, of course,’ added Leo. He looked down with Mrs Jenkins at the garden in the centre of the square, then felt his heart rise sharply in his chest. Joshua was walking across the square, unmistakably coming in the direction of the flat. He reached the pavement and disappeared into the doorway below.
‘Would you excuse me for a moment?’ muttered Leo, as the buzzer sounded. He went quickly into the hallway and pressed the intercom. ‘Come up.’
He heard the door open below and the sound of Joshua’s feet on the stairs. The sight of him almost overpowered Leo. All the misery of the last several days seemed to come to a head in raw emotion. It was the worst possible situation in which to encounter Joshua, with all that he felt and wanted to say to him. His throat felt stopped with love and longing.
‘How did you know I was here?’ was all Leo could think to ask.
‘I rang your chambers.’ Joshua stood in the doorway, his fists rammed into the pockets of his jacket. Leo could not read the expression on his face, which wore its customary blank beauty. The only sense he could make of the situation was that Joshua had come back, that there was something still to be said and some future for them. He hoped and prayed, inwardly, that this was so, more fervently than he had ever done about anything in his life. He was suddenly horribly conscious of Mrs Jenkins and Mr Purser in the room behind him, waiting, listening, and wished Joshua had picked any other time but now.
‘Look—’ He put out a hand and laid it on Joshua’s arm;
Joshua let it rest there, hardly seeming to notice. ‘This is not a good time. There are some people here. Some welfare officers. It’s all about Oliver. You know, I told you.’ He hesitated, then said, ‘But look, come in, anyway. They must be just about finished.’
Joshua stepped into the hallway. ‘That’s all right,’ he said, ‘I’ve only come to pick up the rest of my stuff.’ The complete lack of concern in his manner struck Leo like a blow.
Joshua started up the hallway towards his room, but Leo put out a hand to stop him. ‘Don’t,’ he said quickly. ‘Don’t. Listen, wait until these people are gone. It’ll only take a few minutes. Go into the kitchen and make yourself a cup of coffee or something. We need to talk.’
‘No we don’t,’ replied Joshua, gently shaking off Leo’s hand. ‘I just want my things. I told you before, this was all a mistake.’
‘No, no - you have to listen.’ Leo’s voice was low and urgent. He glanced towards the half-shut door of the drawing room.
‘No, Leo,’ said Joshua firmly. He went to his room, Leo following.
Once inside Joshua’s room, Leo shut the door and leant against it, watching as Joshua began to take the remainder of his things from drawers and cupboards, putting them into the rucksack he had brought when he had first moved in. Leo had no idea what to say or do, was only filled with the knowledge that he could not let Joshua go, that things could and must be set right between them. Anguish filled him with speechless panic and he tried desperately to summon up the right words, the ones which would work. He could feel himself shaking. He watched as Joshua stacked up his three canvases.
‘Joshua, this doesn’t have to happen,’ he said at last, trying to keep his voice calm. ‘I overreacted last time. I can see that. But since you left it’s been unspeakable. I can’t work, I can’t sleep—’
‘I’m sorry, Leo. I really am.’ Joshua stuffed odds and ends into the rucksack, then straightened up. The expression on his face was one of genuine regret and Leo felt a faint hope, until Joshua went on, ‘But the fact is, the whole set-up is false. I’ve been feeling like a real hypocrite these past couple of weeks. You want something from me that I can’t give you. And the longer it goes on, me taking things from you, presents and money and everything, the worse it will be in the end. I’ve thought it all out. I don’t want to belong to anybody.’
He moved towards the door, then stopped when he saw that Leo did not intend to move.
‘Please, Joshua,’ said Leo, ‘it doesn’t have to be that way. I want you to have freedom. I do. We can arrange it any way you like. Everything on your terms. I don’t care. I just can’t bear you to go. I love you, damn it.’ Leo’s voice cracked on these last words, and he felt all the weakness and unhapp
iness of his desperation rise to the surface in tears.
Joshua shook his head. ‘That’s it, you see, Leo. I really like you. I do, honestly. You’ve been great to me, and we’ve had some good times. I don’t want you to think I’m not fond of you. But—’ He stopped and searched for words. ‘But it was never going anywhere. Not where you wanted it to.’ He put out a hand to the doorknob. ‘Look, I’ve got to go. Please.’
Leo stepped away from the door and, as Joshua opened it he swallowed hard, regaining control of himself. ‘Joshua, just listen. I don’t care if it has no future. I just need you to stay now. Just until these people have gone. I have things to say to you.’ Joshua shook his head and went into the hallway with his rucksack. Leo’s voice rose as he went after him, heedless of the couple in the drawing room. ‘I have important things to say! You can’t just go like this, without giving me some kind of chance!’
At that moment Mrs Jenkins opened the drawing room door and looked out. She still wore a smile, a tentative one. ‘Mr Davies, do you think we—’
Leo turned to her in rage, tears reddening his eyes. ‘Will you damn well shut up? I have something to sort out here!’ He turned back to Joshua. ‘Joshua, wait - leave me a number or something. This isn’t the right time, I know, but we can talk later.’
Joshua turned round, glanced in embarrassment at Mrs Jenkins and Mr Purser standing in the doorway, and looked directly at Leo. ‘There’s no point. I’m sorry if I picked a bad time. I just needed my things.’ He moved to the front door, Leo following him.
‘Joshua!’ Leo’s voice was anguished, desperate. ‘Joshua, for God’s sake wait!’ He tried to catch the sleeve of Joshua’s jacket as Joshua opened the door, but Joshua shook him off again, went out quickly and closed the door behind him, while Leo called after him, ‘Please! Please! Joshua, I love you! Oh, God …’
Leo turned away from the door and went down the hall and into the kitchen, ignoring the two figures in the doorway of the drawing room. He closed the kitchen door, leant over the sink and took several deep breaths, blinking away his tears. Then he splashed his face with water and dried it. The emotional outburst of the last few minutes had left him spent, shaking. He began to realise the implications of what he had just done. Those two people had witnessed everything, could draw only one conclusion. Taking a minute or two to collect himself, Leo went back through to the drawing room to salvage what he could of the situation.
Mrs Jenkins and Mr Purser were now by the window, talking in low voices. They had clearly gone over there to watch Joshua’s departure. They stopped talking as Leo came into the room. Then Mrs Jenkins, clutching her clipboard against her anorak, came across the room, her smile quite gone now.
Before Leo could say anything, she spoke. Her voice was quiet and regretful. ‘Mr Davies, you know that the purpose of this visit here today is to ascertain that this would be a fit and proper place for your son to stay on a regular basis. We all have domestic upsets in our lives - believe me, I do appreciate that. Nobody’s perfect. But what you must understand is that your wife - your ex-wife, I should say - did raise certain questions regarding your lifestyle when we went to see her.’ Mrs Jenkins paused, plainly a little embarrassed. ‘She mentioned, for instance, that you regularly entertain young men and she is concerned that this might create circumstances where the environment is not one in which she would be happy for Oliver to stay. You understand my meaning?’
Leo turned away. He went over to a silver box lying on a table and took out a small cigar. He felt drained, dead. Nothing mattered. He lit the cigar and blew out the smoke. ‘What you mean is that the unfortunate little scene which you witnessed a few moments ago has reinforced your prejudices.’ His voice was flat.
‘Now, Mr Davies, I don’t like it when you use that word. This has nothing to do with your sexual orientation. It’s not our policy to let matters of that kind influence our thinking. What we’re concerned with is a stable, calm environment for your son.’
Leo lifted his head and looked her in the eye. ‘I love my son. My emotional life is a bit of a mess. I accept that. But I would never let him it harm him, or touch him. You have to believe that. It has to be kept separate.’ Mrs Jenkins let out a little sigh, dropped her eyes and said nothing. ‘You have to write up your report. Fine. You have to say what you saw. But please accept that if Oliver came to stay with me, I would make sure that everything was as peaceful and stable as anyone could want.’
There was a silence, then Mrs Jenkins, her tentative smile returning, said, ‘I think we’ve seen everything we need to. We’ll make out our report and submit it to the court in due course. Thank you for your time.’
She and the silent Mr Purser left the room, Leo following them. He saw them out without a word, then went back into the drawing room and picked up his cigar from the ashtray. It was as though his mind and body were entirely devoid of life. He had never felt emptier. He looked at his watch and saw that it was half past three. The idea of going back to chambers was beyond him. He poured himself a large drink, sat down and finished his cigar. The afternoon light outside faded to early dusk, and Leo carried on drinking, letting his unhappy thoughts chase themselves more and more slowly round his mind as the whisky took hold. He kept on playing out a little fantasy in which Joshua came back, regretting what had happened and telling Leo that he had been right, and that he loved him and would stay. Even though he knew that all hope was now utterly gone, dead, he let the fantasy thread through his mind, filling the silence with imagined words, until at last he was sitting in complete darkness, with his bottle and his glass.
Later that evening, Camilla and Anthony were sprawled comfortably together on the sofa in Anthony’s flat, Camilla’s legs resting across Anthony’s lap. The remains of a meal lay scattered on the coffee table.
Anthony yawned, then put out a hand to stroke Camilla’s hair. ‘Shall I put on some music? It seems dreadfully quiet.’
Camilla sipped her wine and studied him curiously. ‘That’s something I’ve noticed about you since I got back.’
‘What?’
‘This sudden need to fill silences. When you’re not talking non-stop, you’re doing something else to compensate.’ She gave a little smile.
‘I just thought it would be nice to have some music, that’s all.’ Anthony moved her legs gently aside and got up. He went over to the CD player and absently flipped through the discs. Had he been behaving differently since she’d got back? Certainly the knowledge of what he had done seemed to be constantly with him, colouring everything he did and said.
He slipped in a CD and glanced back to where Camilla lay on the sofa. He felt an urgent need to bridge the distance which his own guilt seemed to have created. The smooth balance of perfect trust and affection which had existed before she went away had been destroyed. It was something he had never contemplated in those lost, erotic nights spent with Sarah. Not that he had contemplated much beyond the satisfaction of his own lust. Perhaps the only way to destroy the feeling was to stifle it, smother it, by bringing Camilla closer to him, so that then it wouldn’t matter.
He went back and sat down, drawing Camilla’s legs on to his lap again and stroking her feet. ‘Did you do any thinking while you were away?’
‘Thinking? What about?’
‘Us. You moving in here.’
Camilla set her glass down on the low table, as though preparing for something. ‘I suppose so. I mean, I suppose I thought about it a bit. But everything I said before I went away still stands, Anthony. I want to find somewhere of my own. We see so much of one another in chambers, I think it’s important that we have our own space.’
‘To do what? What are you going to do with this new space? See other people?’ He felt detached, wondering at his own brusqueness.
Camilla looked at him in amazement. ‘What makes you say that?’ She reached out a hand and touched his face. ‘I’m so lucky. We have something so special. But you must remember what it was like when you first got started
. You have a feeling of independence. You want a place of your very own, a life that doesn’t belong to other people.’
‘In other words, what we have may be special, but it’s just not special enough. Look, you say you want independence. What can that mean, if it doesn’t mean that you want to put distance between us? I don’t understand.’
Camilla gave a little laugh of exasperation and took her hand away. ‘Anthony, are you being deliberately obtuse? If you want to talk about distance, well, ever since I got back you’ve been—’ She hesitated. ‘You’ve been odd. Like there’s something on your mind.’ There was a silence as they gazed at one another. ‘Is there?’
Anthony felt vulnerable, confused. He wanted so badly to make everything whole again, to put it back the way it had been. He told himself that he loved Camilla. With her he felt a completeness, a sense of safety and warmth. But even at this moment he knew that he could think about Sarah, the things they had done, the smoky sound of her laugh and the touch of her fingers, and feel longing. If, in one brief absence from Camilla, he could give in so easily to the idle temptation of someone like Sarah, what might happen in the future? Perhaps he wanted Camilla to move in so that it would lessen the risk of anything like it happening again. Loving her as he did, he couldn’t even trust himself with other women. Miserably he leant his head back, sighing, and closed his eyes.
Should he tell her? The thought swam around in his mind in lazy circles with the music. If he did, then the weight of guilt and the fear of her finding out would all be lifted. He could tell her how sorry he was, make amends … No, he couldn’t tell her. Nothing was that simple. To know he had betrayed her trust while she was away would hurt her so much that it would badly damage things, if not destroy them. He would just have to let it be, hope that things would adjust, that his guilt would lessen.
He opened his eyes and looked at her. ‘No, there’s nothing on my mind. I just wish you’d think again about being with me.’
