Twenty minutes later, she lay slack and replete, watching as Vince picked up his T-shirt from the floor and slipped it on. He poured more vodka. She drank it unthinkingly, wanting the warmth and sensual satisfaction she was feeling to go on for ever. She knew that none of this was good for her, but she didn’t care. They could sort out the future later. Tonight was just a bit of abandonment. She deserved it. She hadn’t let herself go in a long, long time. She watched Vince roll a spliff and light it, and when he handed it to her she took a deep drag. Not at all what she had intended this evening to be about. She began to laugh.
‘What’s funny?’ asked Vince, smiling.
Felicity shook her head and laughed again. She reached to pick up her bra from the floor, and began to slip it on. Vince stopped her. ‘You won’t be needing that.’ He bent his head and kissed her breast, his tongue grazing her nipple, and Felicity arched her back with pleasure.
‘I feel pissed,’ she said. ‘I’ve had nothing to eat all day. Just a cream cake Leo bought us.’
‘Leo, eh? How is the old shirt-lifter?’
‘Stop it,’ murmured Felicity. She eased herself off the sofa and stood up. ‘I’m going to make something to eat.’ She bent down and took the spliff from him and took another drag, slopped some more vodka into her glass and drank. ‘Need something to mop up the booze.’ Vince gazed with idle appreciation at the creamy curves of her body as she strolled naked to the kitchen with her glass, her dark, curling hair falling round her shoulders. He reached out and took a long swig of vodka, listening to the sound of cupboards opening and closing.
‘Fajitas all right?’ she called.
‘Whatever. Anything’ll do me.’ Vince leant back and smoked contentedly. He’d been worried there might be problems tonight, that she wouldn’t be prepared to let him back into her life and pick up where they’d left off. Things had been a bit rough between them before he’d got banged up. But the evening was shaping up very promisingly. If he played his cards right, he’d be moving in in a couple of weeks. Living with Fliss would definitely ease the pressure of having to find a job and sort himself out. It was the perfect set-up – a girlfriend with a nice flat, a car, money in the bank, food in the fridge and booze in the cupboard. Oh yeah, and that beautiful body. Sweet.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Leo had spent an entire afternoon filling in the online High Court judge application form, so when Henry knocked on his door and looked in, he was grateful for the diversion.
‘Spare a moment, Mr D?’
‘By all means, Henry. Come in. This Judicial Appointments Committee form has just about finished me off. If there’s one thing I loathe, it’s self-assessments, having to make up spurious guff to demonstrate one’s leadership qualities and independence of mind. This bit about my intellectual capacity – I think I lost it around page three.’
‘No need to worry. You’re tailor-made for the job.’
‘You say that, but I’m not entirely sure I tick all the JAC’s politically correct boxes. Besides which, I’ve probably managed to offend at least one member of the committee at some stage in my professional life.’ He tapped the page and scrolled down the committee list. ‘Here’s a shining example – Gregory Hind.’
‘Senior partner at Reed Smith?’
‘The very same. He instructed me when I was a junior on a ship grounding case. We had a slight falling-out over the presentation of the technical evidence. Well, more than slight. He threatened to disinstruct me. Didn’t help that I was ultimately proved right. I have the feeling he’s loathed me ever since.’ He nodded at the screen. ‘Sir Vivian Coleman’s on the committee, too – father of our ex-pupil, Sarah. He’s one of the professional members. Anyway …’ Leo closed his laptop. ‘How can I help you, Henry?’
‘It’s that time of year, Mr D. We need to make a decision about the Christmas party. Where and when, who to invite, how much champagne to order. The usual.’
‘I’m happy to say that you’ve come to the wrong person, Henry. That ball is now firmly in the court of the social committee. Headed by our young Mr Cross, if I am not mistaken. He’s the man you want to see.’
‘Oh. Right. Budget and everything?’
‘Budget and everything. It’s one responsibility I am very glad to be rid of, frankly.’
‘OK. I’ll go and have a word.’
‘You do that. By the way,’ added Leo, as Henry turned to go, ‘how is our fledgling clerk coming along? He seems very keen.’