Errors of Judgment(26)

Julia glanced along the bar. ‘Gabrielle Stanley. Why?’

‘Do you know anything about her?’

Julia’s lip curled in a half-smile. ‘Anthony—’

‘What?’

She shook her head. ‘Nothing. If you’re so interested, go and find out yourself.’ She finished the remains of her drink. ‘See you around.’

She walked away. Talking to him had been a mistake. Seeing him after all this time was bad enough. What had she expected? That he was still in love with her? That they could rekindle some old flame? She saw Piers talking to Darius on the other side of the room and went over.

‘Piers, I want to go.’

‘Ask the doorman to call you a cab.’

‘Please, Piers. I’m tired.’

‘Well, I’m not. Now fuck off home, if you must.’

Julia fetched her coat and took a taxi home alone.

Anthony left the bar and went back to the gaming room. Edward was now caught up in a game of stud poker. Anthony watched for a few minutes, but his glance kept slipping to the chattering crowd at the roulette table. He’d enjoyed his half-hour there. What Leo had said was true. It wasn’t so much the gambling – though winning had been pretty good, and it was nice to come away with an extra four hundred in one’s pocket. It was about having fun. It was about the room, the people. Something stirred in him, something like an itch. He crossed the room, bought some more chips, and went back to the roulette table.





CHAPTER SIX




Anthony found it hard to focus during his ten o’clock meeting the next morning. Not only was he mildly hungover, he couldn’t stop thinking about the five hundred pounds he’d lost on his second, disastrous outing at the roulette table last night. It wasn’t as though he’d been betting stupidly, on one number. He’d planned what seemed like a good strategy, using odds and evens, split bets and corner bets. He shouldn’t have lost as badly as he had. He’d been kept going by the conviction that on the next spin of the wheel his luck would recover. If Edward hadn’t called it a night he’d probably have gone on to lose even more. He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been. Never again. He kept thinking about Julia, too. He could have done without meeting her again. She was someone he would never quite get over, despite all the hurt she’d caused.

He had to fight against these distractions to focus on the complexities of the case under discussion, and by the time the conference ended at twelve-fifteen, he was feeling pretty lousy. He went to the clerks’ room in search of paracetamol.

‘I’ve only got Alka Seltzer,’ said Felicity, rummaging in her desk drawer.

‘No, thanks,’ said Anthony. ‘They give me indigestion.’

‘Weird. They’re meant to cure that. Sure you aren’t thinking of something else?’

‘No, I’m not thinking of something else.’

‘All right. Suit yourself.’ Felicity shut the drawer.

Leo came into the clerks’ room and dumped some papers on Felicity’s desk. ‘These need to go over to Brian Rosebery’s chambers asap.’

‘I’ll get Liam to do it. Liam!’

Liam scuttled over. ‘Twenty Essex Street,’ Felicity told him. ‘Step on it.’

Leo glanced at Anthony, who was staring out of the window and fiddling with the blind cord. ‘You OK?’

Anthony yawned hugely and rubbed his hand over his face. ‘I’ve been better.’

‘I was hoping to have a chat later on. With you and Michael. How about a drink in Middle Temple Bar? Around six?’

Anthony nodded. ‘If I’m still alive.’

Leo shrugged on his jacket. ‘Right,’ he told Felicity, ‘I’m off to lunch.’

‘Don’t forget you’ve got a con with Murray Holden at two-thirty.’

‘I won’t. See you later.’

Later that afternoon, around quarter to six, Gabrielle Stanley saw Leo coming out of chambers. She had been hanging round the cloisters for the better part of an hour waiting for this moment. She watched him pause at the bottom of the steps to button up his coat. A chilly wind drove a flurry of autumn leaves across the flagstones. She stepped out from behind the pillar and was about to head across the courtyard when a tall, thin man with glasses hurried out of chambers to join Leo. She remained where she was, her heart thudding, and watched them walk through the archway to Pump Court. She tried to make sense of her confused emotions. Part of her was actually relieved that the other man had made speaking to Leo impossible. In which case, why had she been lurking here half the afternoon, freezing her ears off? She knew the answer to that. Even if she wasn’t going to be brave enough to talk to him – and she had to, she really had to, otherwise this was totally pointless – she wanted simply to be able to look at him. The longer she looked, the closer she came. That was what she’d been telling herself, but in fact, unless she spoke to him, all the looking in the world wasn’t going to get her anywhere. There had been that afternoon in court two weeks ago, when she’d spent two whole hours staring at him. Watching him sit, stand, speak, sigh, smile, glance at his watch, shuffle his papers, yawn, feeling herself getting closer and closer. Afterwards, as the court emptied, she’d thought she might go for it then, just walk right up to him – but she hadn’t. She couldn’t. He was with people. No, that wasn’t true – there had been a whole three or four minutes when he’d been walking down Middle Temple Lane on his own, and she’d simply bottled it. And if she went on bottling it, this thing was always going to remain beyond her grasp.