The Pupil (20 page)

‘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.

‘I’ll walk with you, if I may,’ said Leo indolently, coming down the steps and falling in beside her. Julia smiled into the darkness in delight. She never doubted her powers of seduction, and had spent most of the evening determining to work her charms on this most fascinating and desirable of men. With the selfishness of all true hedonists, she cared for nothing but the moment and the game. Anthony was all but forgotten.

They walked slowly across the grass and under the
dark trees. This was not a thing he should be doing, Leo knew. He glanced at Julia from time to time, amused by the transparency of her intentions. What a conceited little flirt, he thought. She was very pretty, he knew. Most men would find her completely desirable. He reflected that she must have kissed the mouth he hungered for a hundred times. She would know every muscle of Anthony’s young body. She knew nothing of anything.

When she lifted up her face to be kissed, it was half in Leo’s mind to take her by the hand and walk her firmly back to the marquee. But in that instant he saw Anthony’s figure as he approached them under the trees. He saw him stop. Without thought or desire, Leo pulled Julia to him and kissed her fiercely and thoroughly, wanting Anthony to watch and care.

Anthony stood for a few seconds. He saw Leo’s arms around Julia as she gave herself up to his kiss, and his heart sickened. He turned quietly away, wretched with jealousy – of whom, he could not, in that moment, comprehend. And Julia had, for a few seconds, her empty heart’s desire.

The following morning, Edward came and groaned theatrically at Anthony. He had, as usual, drunk far too much and said he didn’t think Hermione would ever speak to him again.

‘Why?’ asked Anthony, smiling at Edward’s condition in spite of himself.

‘Oh, I don’t know. I tore her dress, or something. Stepped on it. Christ, d’you have any Alka-Seltzer? I think my head’s going to fall off.’ Sitting opposite Anthony, Edward laid his arms on the desk and rested his chin on them, gazing as Anthony resumed writing. ‘How on earth can you bear to work?’ he moaned.

‘Takes my mind off things,’ replied Anthony, not looking up. Fortunately, Edward did not ask him what the ‘things’ were, but gazed vacantly at the shelves behind Anthony.

‘I don’t think I can stand this lark,’ he said after a moment
or two, his eyes still scanning the shelves unseeingly. He groaned and put his head on his arms.

‘What d’you mean?’ asked Anthony. Edward looked up and ran his fingers through his thick blonde hair.

‘Law. I don’t think I’m cut out for it.’ He mused for a moment, Anthony’s eyes on his face. ‘Don’t tell my flaming uncle that, mind. He’d have a fit.’

Anthony felt, with surprise, that that which would have come as welcome news months ago did not even move him now. It was as though he were incapable of feeling any more. The events of last night had been more bruising and confusing than he had thought possible. He welcomed work, and even Edward’s hungover company, as diversions from thinking.

Edward’s bleary eyes shifted from the bookshelves to Anthony’s face.

‘Where did you get to last night, anyway? You just disappeared. Julia was looking for you everywhere. She was trying not to look upset, but she was.’ He sat up and leant back.

‘Was she?’ asked Anthony without interest. ‘I got fed up and went home.’

‘You’re a funny bugger, Tony,’ said Edward kindly, folding a piece of paper carefully into a dart.

‘Thanks,’ said Anthony.

‘Well, you could have taken her home. I mean, not quite the thing, is it?’

Anthony sighed and leant back. ‘No, you’re right. But it’s impossible to explain …’ He thought briefly, painfully of Julia, lovely, amoral Julia. Maybe it shouldn’t be any
wonder to him that Leo should find her as desirable as other men did. He did not, he realised, understand anything. ‘Just don’t worry about it,’ he added at last to Edward.

‘OK,’ said Edward, launching his dart across the room. ‘Concorde!’ Michael’s footsteps sounded on the stair. ‘See you at lunchtime,’ said Edward and left, greeting Michael airily as he went.

Leo sat in an unexpected traffic jam on Westminster Bridge and cursed, eyeing Big Ben from time to time. He had cut his neck shaving that morning, bled on the collar of his only freshly ironed shirt, and was now late for his conference at ten o’clock. Why couldn’t that bloody woman iron more than two shirts when she came? And what was it that she did to them in the washing machine that made the collar of a new Turnbull & Asser shirt fray after three months? The traffic moved forward a yard or two.

He should have gone home when Alice had, he told himself for the thousandth time. Or he shouldn’t have taken a stroll with that wretched little tart. His car radio told him brightly of a hold-up on Westminster Bridge, and he thanked it and switched it off. God, the things your emotions got you into. He had not handled it well. But then, he did not handle women well.

He recalled Julia’s face in the half-darkness as he had said unkindly, ‘I think we’d better get you back to your boyfriend. I’m afraid he just saw that.’

‘I don’t care,’ she had said, wanting Leo to kiss her again.

‘I think you should,’ he had replied. ‘Because I do not
care in the least for you. I think you are a particularly vain and silly girl. And I do not enjoy kissing you.’

No, that had not been necessary, such unkindness. He watched as the lights changed up ahead from red to green.

‘Come on, come on,’ he muttered, as the traffic moved at a crawl over the bridge. The lights changed back again. It was impossible that he, at forty-two, should be behaving in such a fashion, besotted with some near-schoolboy, wasting his emotions on someone who could not begin to understand or appreciate them. He would not behave as though he were helpless. To do so would be to allow every conceivable humiliation and hurt to plague him. Too much expense of spirit. The determination he had formed last night as he had walked away from Anthony across the grass had hardened now. He must guard against his susceptibilities when he saw him, and make sure that he saw as little of him as possible. Had he not learnt that there was to be no return of his love? Love! He felt something like contempt for himself, for his weakness. Perhaps it would be best, after all, if Anthony looked for a tenancy somewhere else. Even as he thought this, it was with a pang. Yes, he resolved savagely, pushing the car into gear as the traffic ahead of him began to pick up, the thing must stop. Let Edward Choke plant his useless backside at 5 Caper Court for the next forty years.

Julia sat in chambers, trying to attend to her work, her mind veering between rage, misery and anxiety. Several times she had been about to pick up the telephone and call Anthony, but each time fear bit at her. Her humiliation at the hands of
Leo had left her hurt and vulnerable. She wanted Anthony and his comfort. She detested that bastard Leo. No one, no one, had ever spoken to her like that before! She could not, in truth, bear the idea that any man should kiss her without wanting to and without liking it. It was too demeaning. And then to speak to her as he had done. A rage of hurt came over her again. She told herself that she had found him detestable, refusing to acknowledge that kissing him had been in any way delightful. That was the worst of it, to have liked it. Not, she told herself, that she had. He was a bastard, and he had tasted of cigars and stale coffee.

When she had worked up a sufficient hatred for Leo and for herself, Julia fell to the business of hating men generally. There was Piers. He had behaved like a creep ever since that time when she and Anthony had broken up. He’d never been around at the weekends (here she was forced to recall the ignominy of telephoning him several times, after he had failed to get in touch with her), and he barely gave her more than two minutes’ worth of conversation when she did see him. So much for his protestations of adoration and devotion. Not that she cared for him, but she had become used to basking in the pleasant warmth of his admiration. Another rotten bastard.

And Anthony. He could be pretty unbearable, too. Sometimes. The money thing was still a problem, of course. Well, she
tried
not to want to go out in the evenings, but it was jolly difficult when all your friends were going to smart restaurants and seeing new films. It was a bore, his never having any money. She tried to feel sorry for him, but half the time she didn’t really see what he was going on about. But,
no – he was impossible to hate. He loved her. Or rather, she reflected miserably, he had before he’d seen her with Leo last night. Anxiety returned to eat at her. That would probably be the last straw for him. Piers was one thing – and anyway, Anthony had believed her that time when she said she was a bit drunk – but an older member of his chambers whom she’d just met for the first time that evening? Well, that was something else. But what if he hadn’t seen them? She had only Leo’s word for it – she hadn’t seen Anthony anywhere near. Maybe Leo had just said it as an excuse to stop kissing her. (It was unpleasant for Julia even to contemplate this possibility, but she was forced to.) But then, Anthony hadn’t been there when she’d got back to the marquee, after she had watched in astonishment as Leo walked away from her across the lawn. He
must
have seen them. Why else would he have gone off without a word? She should ring him, try to explain it to him. What on earth was she going to tell him? It wouldn’t be easy, but Julia had great faith in her powers of appeasement. Her hand hovered uncertainly over the phone, her stomach churning with nervousness.

‘I thought you had a summons before the Master at ten-thirty?’ said her pupilmaster, suddenly glancing up from his work.

‘Gosh, you’re right!’ she exclaimed, and gathered up her papers and fled in relief.

When Julia rang Anthony after lunch, he was uncertain whether or not to take the call. Better to take it, he decided, glad that Michael was in the room. That might make it easier, in a way.

‘Hello, Anthony?’ Her voice sounded nervous, without any affectation of casualness.

‘Yes?’ he said shortly. There was a pause. She had worked out beforehand what she was going to say, but it was still a bit difficult.

‘I wondered where you’d got to last night. At the Ball, I mean.’

‘Oh?’

‘Well … I thought maybe it was because of me and Leo.’ There, better to get it out and over with. She waited for him to say something, but he remained silent. He picked up his pen and started writing. She carried on. ‘I mean, it must have looked a bit bad, but I wish you’d waited and let me explain.’

‘Go on, then.’

‘Well, it was awful, really. I met him outside after I’d been to the loo, you know, and he said he wanted a bit of air and would I go for a walk with him. So I said all right.’ Her voice had become hurried but casual, as though she were recounting some silly story of no importance. ‘And we were just chatting away quite innocently, as I thought, when he suddenly just, you know,
grabbed
me. It was awful, really. And I suppose that’s when you saw us,’ she finished lamely, waiting for his response.

‘Yes,’ replied Anthony, the word devoid of any meaning. I don’t believe it, he thought suddenly, remembering Leo in the grey light of his flat, the touch of his hand upon Anthony’s wrist, the look in his eyes. But anything was possible, he supposed. What did he know, after all?

‘Look, are you
very
cross?’ Julia was saying. ‘Please
don’t be. It wasn’t my fault, really; I didn’t know you were there.’ She paused and then recovered herself rapidly. ‘What I mean is – I think maybe he just did it to make you jealous. I mean, I don’t see why he should want to
do
that—’ She became confused, annoyed at Anthony’s laconic responses.

‘Neither do I,’ said Anthony, still writing. And then it occurred to him, so vividly that it almost flashed upon his brain, that he did see why. Leo had wanted to make Anthony jealous, but not in the way that Julia meant. He had wanted to hurt him and spite him, so that Anthony would see and know the wretchedness of his heart’s condition. He had said: see, I am kissing someone, and it is not you. He heard Julia’s voice chattering and wheedling on, but her words did not register. Seeing all as he did, Anthony suddenly felt an intolerable wave of love and pity for Leo. God, what a hideous, hopeless situation. How had he ever got into this? Well, it must stop. It was getting too intense and complex. Please, thought Anthony, let everything be sane and straightforward. He tried to listen to what Julia was saying.

‘… and I know it looked bad, but it was just a kiss, after all, and that sort of thing happens all the time at Balls, doesn’t it? I mean, everyone has a bit too much to drink and things get out of hand …’

‘Yes, they do,’ said Anthony, and sighed. He felt tired and confused. She thought she heard his voice relent.

‘So
please
don’t be angry. I felt awful when I got back and you weren’t there. I positively
ran
back, I can tell you. It’s not particularly pleasant being mauled about by someone
twice your age, you know.’ Oh, no? thought Anthony. She paused, testing. ‘You’re not saying a lot. Is Michael there?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you forgive me?’ She tried not to make her voice sound too small.

Anthony said nothing. I don’t want to arouse that kind of feeling in any man, he thought. I’m me, Anthony, an ordinary heterosexual male with a girlfriend and an uncomplicated life. I don’t want to know about some old bloke who’s got a crush on me. He drummed it into himself, lie upon lie. He was tired of excessive thought and feeling. The kind of emotional responses that Leo had provoked in him over the past twenty-four hours had proved extremely wearing.

‘I’ve said I’m sorry,’ said Julia petulantly, feeling that she really had apologised sufficiently.

‘All right,’ said Anthony thoughtfully. ‘It’s all right.’

Julia felt relief slip into her heart. She did not think that her vanity could have borne another rejection. And she did not want to lose Anthony – not someone so clever and beautiful and lovely in bed. She really must be a little more careful. Happily she said, ‘I knew you’d understand.’ When he said nothing, she added, ‘Look, I can’t see you tonight, but what about tomorrow? We don’t have to go out. We could just stay in, the two of us. What do you say?’

That, thought Anthony, sounded nice and normal. He was going to
be
nice and normal, and remain that way. He did not want any more flashes of emotional lightning zigzagging across his sky. Leo was simply a man that he had
liked very much – perhaps too much – and the thing had got a little beyond itself. Well, no more.

‘That sounds OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’

Standing at the bus stop that evening, Anthony pulled from his pocket the piece of paper on which he had copied out the sonnet. He crumpled it into a ball and threw it into the nearest bin without reading it again. He did not have to read it. He knew it by heart.

Anthony got back that evening to find his mother and Barry sitting at the kitchen table with a folder of drawings and sketches spread out in front of them.

‘Get a load of these,’ said Barry, turning as Anthony came in. ‘The great man’s early work.’ Anthony came closer to look.

‘Well, I wouldn’t say great,’ murmured Judith into the fist upon which her chin was resting.

‘Mum dug them out from the attic,’ said Barry, getting up and going to root in the fridge. ‘Have we got any tomatoes, Mum?’

‘In the brown bag,’ said Judith. ‘These are the ones I told you about,’ she said to Anthony, as he sat down in Barry’s chair and pulled some of the drawings towards him. They reminded him of the drawings in
A Spaniard in the Works
. Cross out of Lennon out of Milligan out of Lear. There were some cartoons, some sketches of Judith, and what looked to him like very bad still-life drawings. Anthony picked up a drawing of Judith, much younger, with long dark hair parted in the middle, sitting on a chair.