‘Liam is turning out very nicely, thank you, Mr D. Shows aptitude. Very quick on the uptake. I’m hoping by the time Robert leaves I’ll have him well in harness.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
When Henry had left, Leo opened his laptop and pondered the members of the JAC. He knew none of the lay members, though some of the names – Baroness Paradeep, and Dudley Callow, for instance – were vaguely familiar, but all the judicial members were known to him. Gregory Hind was probably the only one he didn’t get on with, and in all truth he didn’t believe that Hind would let any personal animosity interfere with his judgment. He had met the Committee Chairman, Alastair Flockton, at various functions, and recalled him as a rather highly strung, irritable man. His Honour Judge Ian Cole, so far as he could recall, was an immigration lawyer. Mervyn Woodall he knew only by reputation – a Treasury counsel, Bencher of Grey’s Inn, and an amiable eccentric. Julian Hooper was a fellow silk with whom he got on well, and on whom he felt he could count.
Leo moved down the list and smiled when he saw the name of the Committee’s Vice-Chairman. The Right Honourable Lady Justice Daphne Hunter might look formidable enough in her photo, a slim, handsome woman in her early sixties with a piercing gaze, but having appeared before her on numerous occasions, Leo knew that she was as susceptible to his charm as the next woman. In a hearing a couple of years ago, before her elevation to the Court of Appeal, she had even gone so far as to indulge in some judicial flirtation with him during the cross-examination of an expert witness.
Sir Colman he knew very slightly on a professional level – Leo had appeared before him when Sir Vivian was Recorder of London, and was on the guest list for Sir Vivian’s champagne and hotpot parties – but one would hardly call it a friendship. Probably just as well, since Leo had been sleeping with his daughter on and off for some years. Well, not lately, which was a pity, really. Why had he let things slip? Had something happened which had brought about a cooling off? He couldn’t remember. The relationship had always been volatile. He thought about the last time he’d seen her at her father’s party, wearing that outrageously sexy dress, and felt a little surge of lust. God, she had been something else in bed. Only now she was engaged to a characterless banker, and beyond his reach.
Leo shut his laptop. He would finish the application form later. He got up and strolled to the window, gazing down at Caper Court, thinking about Sarah and her banker boy. What was his name? Tony, Toby, something like that. Hadn’t she said something about him becoming recently unemployed? The credit crunch had spat out any number of young bankers. Not much chance of him getting another job any time soon. A blow for Sarah, no doubt. Leo guessed that the six-figure salary and hefty bonuses had been a large part of Tony or Toby’s attraction. In fact – and in merely thinking the thought, Leo felt an odd sense of clarity, as though he could read Sarah’s mind – might she not be thinking twice about the whole marriage thing? He smiled to himself. Perhaps he was doing her a disservice, doubting her love and loyalty. Somehow he didn’t think he was.
Leo returned to his desk. Even if he was right, he knew that persuading her back into his bed was going to be far from easy. Fiancé or no fiancé, she had a new air of defensiveness about her. No – that was the wrong word. Of strength. Coolness. Sarah had always known what was good for her, but had been too busy having a good time to care. Nowadays she probably cared a good deal. Her appetites had very sensibly given way to extreme self-interest. This wasn’t going to be a pushover. Which, of course, made it all the more interesting. He took out his mobile phone, scrolled down to her number, and pressed ‘call’.
‘Grand Night? What the hell’s Grand Night? Sounds a bit northern to me.’ Toby was slumped on the sofa in the Docklands flat, laptop on his knees, filling in the online teaching training application form.
‘It’s a big swanky dinner in the Inns of Court, usually with some visiting dignitary they want to make a big deal of. Everyone has to turn up in white tie, and the crumbliest old Benchers put on their medals. There’s a champagne reception, and a dinner – not that the food’s any better than usual – and a thing called the “loving cup” that gets passed round for everyone to drink from, and is basically unhygienic. All extremely archaic and posh, but in reality just another opportunity for people to get hammered.’ Sarah spoke in an offhand manner, but Leo’s phone call had left her with a feeling of elation, and a sense of possibility which she hadn’t felt in a long time.