A Calculating Heart (31 page)

He stood helplessly in the doorway as the lift made its descent. A few seconds later the entrance door slammed. He hoped, fleetingly, that Mrs Gresham wasn’t going to come up to complain about the noise. What was Camilla going to do, where was she going to go? She would find a taxi, she would go to her own flat, where she’d barely lived
of late, and she would cry all the way there, and beyond. This last knowledge tore at his heart.

He closed the door and went back into the flat. He padded into the drawing room, sat down in an armchair, and put his head between his hands.

A few moments later, Adriana came into the room. She was wearing Leo’s shirt. She crossed the room to the drinks cabinet and poured a glass of Scotch, which she handed to Leo.

‘Thanks.’ Leo looked up and took the drink from her. He couldn’t read Adriana’s expression. ‘I take it that was your girlfriend?’

Leo took a swift swallow of Scotch. ‘Yes. She’s been abroad for the past few weeks.’ No point in any more apologies.

‘You were silly not to tell me about her,’ said Adriana, with only the mildest note of reproof. Leo supposed he should thank God for her forbearance, at least. What a hellish thing to have happened. And at that particular sexual juncture, too. He grimaced.

‘It was never meant to make any difference.’ He sighed, feeling a little tired suddenly.

‘To you and me?’

Leo glanced at her. If that was what she cared to think, let her. None of it mattered any more. He nodded and drained the remains of his Scotch. ‘Something like that.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. A pity she had to find out that way. Still …’ Adriana took his empty glass from him ‘… at least she knows now.’

Leo gazed at Adriana. It was somewhat ironic, though
hardly surprising, to discover that infidelity didn’t much trouble her. No kind of double-dealing would, he supposed.

She knelt down and placed her hands on his thighs. She reached up and kissed him, and he smelt her fragrance, mingled with the scent of his cologne from his shirt. ‘I think you need a little space.’ Leo, marvelling at her tolerance and understanding, nodded.

Adriana got up and went through to the bedroom. She dressed and came back. ‘I’ve rung for my car.’

‘I don’t understand why you’re not angry,’ said Leo curiously.

She shrugged. ‘Leo, all the time we are together, when we are in bed, whatever … I have always known what you felt. Do you think I have ever supposed there weren’t other women?’ She reached down and touched his face. ‘Nothing matters except what you feel for me. Despite what you say, I know you love me. That is why we will work so well together.’ The intercom buzzer sounded.

Adriana walked to the door, then turned. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow in court.’

Leo got up. ‘Yes.’ He followed her down the hallway to the door. Adriana gave him a brief smile as she got into the lift, and left without another word.

Leo closed the door and went to the bedroom. He picked up the shirt which Adriana had discarded and put it on, then his trousers. He went back to the drawing room, sat down again and closed his eyes. If only Camilla had called to tell him she was coming home … But what good would that have done? Wasn’t this something that was always
destined to happen? She would have been hurt as badly – if not this way, then some other way – in the long run. What was done was past recall. She would never forgive him. Which was probably just as well. She would be better off without him. He just wished he could have spared her such unhappiness. In that moment, he truly detested himself. He sat motionless in the armchair for a long time.

Leo arrived in court the following morning feeling grim. He had spent the intervals between bouts of restless sleep going over and over those hellish few minutes of Camilla’s return and her miserable discovery, forced to contemplate the baseness of his conduct through a new and cruel perspective. There was no point, he knew, in trying to see her. Not at present. He must say something at some point, even if only to acknowledge to her how wretchedly he had treated her.

Adriana arrived and slid into the seat behind Leo. Without turning his head, he could detect her presence. The proceedings were about to commence, however, and she had no time to speak to him. Not that Leo cared. He didn’t want to discuss the previous night’s events.

‘Court rise!’ intoned the usher. Mr Justice Sagewell swept on to the bench and took his seat.

‘Well, now,’ he said, ‘where were we?’

‘My Lord,’ said Ann Halliday, rising to her feet, ‘certain additional matters have recently come to my attention. I would like, with your permission, to recall Miss Papaposilakis.’

A wordless ripple of surprise stirred the courtroom. The judge surveyed Ann over the top of his spectacles. ‘This is somewhat unorthodox, Miss Halliday.’ He turned to Adriana with infinite courtesy. ‘Would you mind … ?’

Leo turned round. Adriana appeared surprised, wary. She leant towards Leo. ‘What should I do? Is this all right?’ she asked in a low voice.

Leo shrugged and murmured, ‘I presume so. I don’t really know what it’s about.’

Adriana hesitated. Then she rose and walked to the witness stand. She sat down, crossed her legs, directed a soft, confiding smile at the judge, then looked attentively at Ann Halliday. Leo gave a little inward sigh and sat back in his seat.

‘Miss Papaposilakis, you have a claim in respect of two Degas drawings which were lost on board the
Persephone
, I believe? In the region of four million pounds?’

‘De-gas,’ said Adriana, pronouncing the first syllable as in ‘the’.

Ann paused, disconcerted. Mr Justice Sagewell leant forward. ‘Miss Papaposilakis is right. Most people mistakenly pronounce the name “Daygas”, when in fact it should be “De-gas”. As the French would pronounce the syllable.’ He gave Adriana a complicit smile. ‘I’m a little surprised you didn’t know that, Miss Halliday.’

‘I must thank your Lordship – and, of course, Miss Papaposilakis – for pointing out my error,’ said Ann. Adriana inclined her head with sweet grace and flashed Mr Justice Sagewell another smile. Leo slid forward a little in
his chair. He was feeling much better than he had a few moments ago.

‘These drawings,’ resumed Ann. ‘Can you tell the court where and how they were displayed on board the
Persephone
?

‘They were mounted in frames, screwed to the wall of the main cabin.’

‘And when did you last see them?’

‘They were on the yacht, obviously, before the fire.’

‘Yes, but when did
you
last see them?’

Adriana hesitated. ‘I can’t recall precisely.’

‘Would it have been when the yacht was in the marina at Southampton in September two thousand and two?’

‘Perhaps. I really don’t know. It was a long time ago.’

‘You travelled on board the
Persephone
from Nice to Southampton?’

‘Yes.’

‘And when you left the yacht, the drawings were still there?’

‘Yes. They must have been.’

‘So you remember now?’

‘It’s a presumption. Of course they were.’

‘How long had they been there?’

‘For five years.’ Adriana’s gaze was fastened intently on Ann’s. Her face wore a little frown.

‘And Captain Kollias was in your service throughout that time?’

Mr Justice Sagewell scented Adriana’s discomfiture. ‘Miss Halliday,’ he interrupted sternly, ‘where is this going?’

Ann picked up a piece of paper from the table in front of her. ‘Miss Papaposilakis, perhaps you can help the court with regard to this photocopying receipt.’ Adriana stared at the paper in Ann’s hand. ‘Do you know what this photocopying receipt is for?’

Adriana turned and gave Mr Justice Sagewell an appealing glance. But the judge was busy writing. ‘Shall I repeat the question?’

Adriana shot Ann a dark, animal look. ‘No. I don’t have the least idea what it’s for.’

‘It’s a receipt for the photocopying of two drawings. We have a statement from the gentleman at Sprint Office Services of Southampton, who remembers a blonde woman bringing two drawings to be copied on the second of September. Does that help?’ Adriana said nothing. She looked trapped. ‘What I am suggesting, Miss Papaposilakis, is that you took these two drawings by—’ she paused ‘—De-gas to Sprint Office Services in Southampton to be photocopied, and that you subsequently substituted the copies for the originals on board the yacht. The only possible deduction the court can make from such actions—’

Leo rose to his feet and interjected smoothly, ‘My Lord, if I might request a brief adjournment to discuss the case with my client?’

Mr Justice Sagewell inclined his head grimly. ‘Yes, Mr Davies, I think that might be a good idea.’

Leo fixed his gaze on Adriana’s face and nodded to her. She left the witness stand and walked with Leo to a side room, leaving the lawyers murmuring behind them.

Leo closed the door.

Adriana turned to him with a face of fury. ‘How could you let this happen? Why did you let me answer those questions?’

‘I’m afraid I really had no idea what she was going to ask you,’ lied Leo. He waited, wondering if Adriana was going to continue to rage and bluster. But she merely folded her arms and stalked up and down the room, still incandescent.

After a few moments she turned to him. ‘What am I meant to do? You’re my lawyer! You tell me what I’m supposed to do!’

‘Well,’ said Leo thoughtfully, ‘I’m not really sure there’s much you can do, given the circumstances. Miss Halliday has a receipt for the copying of the drawings. She has a witness who
can
probably identify you. I think he was the young man at the back of the court.’ Adriana said nothing. ‘That an owner should trouble to replace two very valuable original paintings with copies only weeks before the vessel is destroyed by fire … well, it obviously supports the insurers’ contention that there was something suspicious about the loss of the
Persephone
, wouldn’t you say? The judge has been listening very carefully, and I can tell you he’s formed a pretty bad impression. Which is understandable.’

Adriana lifted her dark eyes to his, and they gazed at each other without expression. Much passed between them in those silent moments. Leo knew she couldn’t bring herself to make a clear and unequivocal admission of what she had done. Nor had he any intention of tackling the
issue head-on by asking her. There was no need.

‘So – what am I to do? Tell me!’

‘I think it would be best if I were to go back in and tell the court that you’re dropping your claim.’

‘Why? Why should I?’

‘Because on the evidence as it stands, you have no alternative. You’re going to lose, Adriana. If you don’t stop it now, there’s a chance the judge will hand the papers to the DPP. You don’t want that.’

She paced the room. He could tell she was bowing to the inevitable. She turned at last to look at Leo, searching his face for some clue. It must be evident to him what she had done, but he gave no sign of it. She had to know. ‘Why don’t you just ask me about it?’ she said, her voice almost a whisper.

Leo’s face was impassive, but he felt almost sorry for her. ‘You’re my client. I take you as I find you.’

‘And afterwards? You and me?’

‘Everything comes at a price. You, of all people, understand that. I can’t afford this one.’

She looked away and nodded. After a moment she said with some impatience, ‘Very well, get it over with.’ He turned to the door, and she grabbed his sleeve. ‘Is this the worst that will happen?’

Leo was momentarily confused. Was she talking about dropping the case, or the end of their relationship? He thought he would try for the former, and hope. ‘If you drop the claim, I doubt it will go any further. I hope not.’

She nodded and took her hand from his arm. A
businesswoman to the last, thought Leo, as he stepped into the courtroom.

A moment later, he addressed the judge. ‘My Lord, my client has indicated to me that she wishes to withdraw her claim and pay the defendant’s costs on an indemnity basis.’ Leo sat down, reflecting that there was much to be said on the complex nature of unprincipled behaviour.

Mr Justice Sagewell nodded. ‘Thank you, Mr Davies. Quite understandable.’

Ann Halliday rose. ‘My Lord, we accept that. We are pleased that the underwriters’ position has been fully vindicated.’

When the court rose, Adriana left the court as quickly as possible, Mr Defereras at her side.

Rachel was still stunned. ‘How on earth did that happen?’ she asked Leo, as people began to leave the courtroom. ‘I hadn’t the least idea … I don’t understand how the other side got hold of that receipt.’

‘Maybe someone tipped them off,’ said Leo. ‘You can’t scuttle a yacht all on your own, after all. A little technical assistance is generally required.’ He gathered up his papers, determined to make a speedy escape. He had no wish to be involved in an extensive post-mortem of the case right now. That could wait till tomorrow. He would greatly relish going over certain aspects with Ann. She had done a concise and expert job in her cross-examination.

As he crossed Fleet Street on his way back to chambers, he met Michael Gibbon.

‘You’ve finished early,’ remarked Michael.

‘My client’s case has just collapsed quite spectacularly,’ replied Leo.

‘Bad luck.’

‘Maybe. Maybe not. Sometimes these things happen for the best. Fancy lunch at Luigi’s in a couple of hours? I have a need of conviviality right now.’

‘Okay. I haven’t had a decent lunch in a while. Better not push the boat out too far, though. There’s a chambers’ meeting at the end of the afternoon – time to sort out the new head of chambers.’ They walked through the gate and down Middle Temple Lane. ‘You know, there’s a general feeling that people would rather see you as head of chambers than Maurice Faber.’

‘Me? You seem to forget I had my name splashed all over
The Sun
not so long ago. I’m hardly the respectable face of 5 Caper Court.’

‘That’s not the point,’ said Michael, as they paused in the archway of Pump Court. ‘You’re liked, and Maurice isn’t. He’s pushy. The younger lot aren’t keen on him, and neither are the clerks. It’s not healthy to have someone at the top who isn’t generally respected. It would go down well with everyone, in and out of chambers, if you were made head. So far as Roderick is concerned, you’re in the running.’

‘What about you?’

Michael shook his head. ‘I’ve already told Roderick I’m not interested.’

‘I’ve half a mind to do the same. Who needs the hassle?’

‘I wish you’d let me persuade you otherwise.’

Leo smiled. ‘Let’s see what you can achieve over lunch.’ The two men strolled from the archway in the direction of Caper Court.

Camilla was on her way from Temple Tube, crossing Fountain Court, when she caught sight of Michael and Leo in conversation in the archway opposite. She slowed her steps, then sat down on the stone rim of the fountain, not wishing to encounter them. She watched Leo, his robing bag slung over his shoulder, his silver hair catching the light, as he talked to Michael. He seemed his usual self, as though nothing much had happened in the last twenty-four hours to disturb his equilibrium. As if the events of last night hadn’t happened. She herself had thought of nothing else, the weight of her unhappiness dragging at her very soul. She realised she had never understood what people meant when they talked about being broken hearted. She knew now. The physicality of this misery was so intense. It had prevented her from sleeping properly, combining with her jet lag to make her feel dazed and a little unwell. She had had to come into chambers this afternoon, if only for something to take her mind off last night. Last night … To think she’d actually made a joke about that Papaposilakis woman getting him into bed. She should really have seen it coming. Hadn’t Leo himself warned her about the kind of man he was? She hadn’t wanted to believe it. She’d thought she would be the one to change him. What a cliché. He would never change.

Leo and Michael moved beyond the archway into Pump Court, and Camilla watched them go. She saw now that she would have to leave 5 Caper Court and find some other chambers. She couldn’t bear to see Leo, day in, day out. She had loved him so deeply, and with such singleness of heart.
In spite of everything, she still did and always would. That, perhaps, was the worst part.

Leo had decided that his lunch with Michael at Luigi’s would be a spectacularly good one. Recent events, together with the change about to be wrought by the move to Gratton Crescent, and the end of the wretched
Persephone
case, made him want to turn his back on life’s realities for a couple of hours at least. Wanton indulgence was the order of the day. At half past three, after a considerable amount of excellent food and two £74 bottles of Dolcetto Bricco Rosso, Leo and Michael rolled out into the sunshine of Covent Garden and began their leisurely walk back to chambers.

‘That was very Eighties,’ remarked Michael with satisfaction.

Leo, lighting a small cheroot, agreed. ‘Nobody lunches properly any more. Probably just as well for the economy.’

‘You should have let me split the bill with you.’

Leo shook his head. ‘No. My idea. My lunch. A mixture of celebration and valediction.’

‘Celebrating what?’

‘Well, the fact that that bloody case is over, for a start. Plus, as I told you, I’m moving house.’

‘And the valediction?’

‘Oh … I’ve had to say goodbye to a couple of things recently. Good things.’ Leo thought of Camilla and Adriana, and wondered which of the two might have been the more worthwhile. Too late now. Ironic, though, that he had lost
one woman through sticking to his principles, and the other through lack of them.

Michael sensed that Leo had no wish to dwell on these losses, whatever they might be. ‘So-have I persuaded you to put yourself forward as the next head of chambers?’ he asked.

They were sauntering along the Aldwych in the direction of the Strand. Leo glanced at the familiar surroundings, pondering the question. Apart from Oliver, chambers and work were really the only solid things in his life. They grounded him. And this. All this. The traffic, the people, the buildings, the city through the seasons. He liked the way things were. Did he really want Maurice Faber running the show, presenting his version of 5 Caper Court to the world? Leo felt a flicker of proprietorial jealousy. He had been at those chambers for twenty-five years. He and others – not Maurice Faber-had been responsible for their present success. He had been a tenant under some excellent heads, including Sir Basil, then Cameron, and latterly Roderick. Was he really prepared to sit back and let that upstart Faber take over? He turned to Michael. ‘Yes, you’ve persuaded me. You, plus a mixture of the wine at lunch, this sunny day, and a certain misplaced sentimentality.’

The meeting had been arranged for five-thirty. All the tenants assembled round the long, oval conference table in Roderick’s room. Camilla sat some distance away from Leo. He glanced at her once, quickly. He was too enfeebled by his own sense of guilt to look at her again. He would
speak to her later, if he could find the courage.

Roderick went through a brief preamble as to the purpose of the meeting, touching on his own imminent departure, and on the recent expansion of chambers, and the future he envisaged.

‘There is no orthodoxy in the matter of these things,’ he observed, glancing round at the faces. ‘The position of head of chambers, as you all know, is very much a nominal one, given that the success of 5 Caper Court as an entity depends upon the strengths of its individual members. Seniority is naturally significant. Our most senior and longest-serving members of chambers – Jeremy, Leo, Stephen, Michael – are all amply qualified to take on the role. Maurice, although he joined us only a few months ago, has already demonstrated his sense of commitment, and his enthusiasm for promoting the interests and image of chambers abroad. Being head of chambers is not, however, a position which is to everyone’s taste,’ added Roderick with a smile, ‘and Michael has already let it be known that he would rather not put himself forward. As I have already said, at 5 Caper Court we adhere to no rigid form in deciding these matters. Sometimes there is a clear consensus, as when Cameron Renshaw took on the role. At the time that I became head, the matter was made fairly straightforward by the fact that nobody else was interested.’ At this there was a little murmur of amusement. ‘In the present circumstances, where we have more than two obvious candidates, the most egalitarian method would seem to be to take a vote by way of a ballot. Each person should write the name of
their preferred candidate on one of these pieces of paper—’ Roderick pushed a little pile of papers to the centre of the table ‘—and I will give them to Henry to sort out at my desk. Then, with luck, we should have a clear favourite. Does that meet with everyone’s approval?’

There were nods of agreement, each tenant took a piece of paper, and each wrote on it as unobtrusively as possible. Then Henry collected the folded slips, took them over to Roderick’s desk, and sorted through them. He picked one of the papers from the largest pile and handed it to Roderick.

‘Leo Davies,’ said Roderick simply. He put the paper on the table with a smile. There was a general murmur of satisfaction, and the atmosphere seemed to relax. ‘I think we would all agree the choice is an excellent one.’

Leo was mildly surprised. What had he done recently for chambers, after all, except drag its pristine name through the tabloids? It had seemed to him that Maurice’s tireless promotional work and self-publicizing would surely pay off. Still, there it was. He felt pleasantly gratified, and wondered if the votes in his favour had included Camilla’s.

He glanced round. ‘I’m very touched by your confidence. Thank you. I hope I’ll do my best to justify it.’

The meeting broke up. There were smiles and words of congratulation to Leo as they filed out of Roderick’s room. Even Maurice managed a slap on the shoulder. ‘Not surprised they wanted a familiar face. Well done.’

‘Thanks,’ said Leo.

‘I must have a word with you in the next few days about some suggestions I have for a couple of new chambers’
committees. We could do with restructuring in some areas.’

‘Fine.’ Leo sighed inwardly at the prospect of reining in Maurice’s managerial enthusiasms.

He lingered briefly on the stairway as people dispersed. He had to speak to Camilla sometime. Now was as good as any. To his relief she was the last to leave Roderick’s room.

She gave Leo an expressionless glance as she passed. He put a hand on her arm. Doors closed below as people went to their rooms. The staircase was empty.

‘Please,’ said Leo gently. ‘Can I have a word?’

‘Why?’

‘I need to talk to you. Can we go to my room?’

Camilla hesitated, then nodded and followed Leo downstairs and into his room. Leo closed the door. He was about to speak, but before he could, she said suddenly, ‘Leo, I need to know something. The Greek woman – are you serious about her?’

‘What?’

‘Is she the new woman in your life?’

He was touched by the childish solemnity of her voice and look. ‘God, no … Nothing like that. You were away. She made herself very available. I’m making no excuses. I’m simply telling you how it was. She means nothing to me.’ Camilla said nothing, but her shoulders dropped slightly. ‘Look,’ Leo went on, ‘I know no apology could change things. But I owe you one. What I did was unforgivable.’

‘Was it?’

This momentarily threw Leo. It hadn’t occurred to him
that she might be prepared to forgive what had happened, to go on as though it didn’t matter. She certainly hadn’t given that impression. He’d had the idea that the events of the last twenty-four hours had more or less determined the relationship’s future. Or lack of it.

He hesitated. ‘By any normal standards, yes. I—’

‘But yours aren’t normal standards, are they, Leo?’

‘No,’ he conceded, ‘you could say that.’ There was a silence. He found it difficult to meet her unwavering gaze. ‘So what are you saying? Are you saying that if I tell you how sorry I am, you’ll simply be prepared to forget it all?’

Camilla looked at him unhappily. ‘I don’t think I could ever forget last night, Leo. Not ever. I feel about as badly hurt as anyone could possibly be.’ Her eyes, fastened on his, filled with tears. ‘I don’t think you can imagine the pain you’ve caused me. I thought you loved me. You told me you did. And despite everything you’ve done, I still love you. It shouldn’t work that way. When someone does the kind of thing you have, there should be no room for anything but hate. But it’s not like that. A part of me badly wants you to say that you’ll never hurt me again, that you love me so much that you’ll never betray my trust, not any more. Will you do that? Will you say that and mean it?’

Leo wanted to lift his hand to brush away the tears which hung on her lower lashes. He wished he could do as she asked, and make sincere and heartfelt promises. He wished so much that he could make her happy in the way she wanted. At last he spoke. ‘I’ll say it, if you like, if it means that things don’t have to be over between us. I’ll
say anything you want. But I won’t mean it. You know that.’

Camilla brushed her own tears away. She spoke shakily. ‘It was a stupid question, really. You’ve always been pretty candid about yourself. Well, as candid as you can be …’ She glanced away, frowning. ‘I just wish …’ She shook her head. ‘I just wish you could have left me alone in the first place. I wish I didn’t feel this way.’

‘You mean you wish nothing had ever happened between us?’ His voice was gentle, curious.

She looked at him. ‘No, I don’t mean that. I don’t mean that at all …’ She gave a long, miserable sigh. ‘I just don’t want to
hurt
so much.’ There was so much anguish in her voice, she looked so young and pitiful, that Leo wanted to take her in his arms. But that would be a mistake. He knew he must let her take this to its ultimate conclusion, for her own good. Camilla went on, ‘I know I have to stop seeing you. I can’t handle this kind of relationship. I need trust. I need someone who can make me feel entirely secure. And that’s not you.’

In spades, thought Leo. He looked at her sadly. ‘If it’s any help, I think you’ve made the right decision. You deserve someone much better. If we let this go on, it would be a disaster in the long run.’

‘Yes.’

He touched her cheek with his hand. ‘You are a remarkable girl—’

She turned to the door, and as she moved he could tell she was hoping he would say or do something more.
Something to change the finality of the situation. For the sake of them both, Leo did nothing. Said nothing. He simply let her go.