Anthony, still preoccupied with details of the oil pollution conference he had just left, didn’t notice Sarah until she was almost upon him. He stopped in surprise. ‘Sarah – hi. How are you?’ Sarah’s previously long blonde hair was shorter now, but there was no forgetting that pert, pretty face, and the full mouth with that charming, lopsided curve which always seemed to suggest some secret source of amusement. She was wearing a neatly tailored suit and high heels, and hugging a leather broker’s wallet.
‘Fine. And you?’
‘Good, thanks.’
‘Been a while, hasn’t it?’
‘It has.’ He had mixed feelings about this chance encounter. A few years ago, when Sarah was a pupil at 5 Caper Court, the two of them had had a brief but ill-advised relationship, the fallout from which had been disastrous. It was quite something, seeing her again in the flesh. ‘So – what are you up to these days?’
‘Working as a broker for Portman’s.’
‘Right. Employing those formidable negotiating skills of yours.’
‘Kind of you to say so. At least, I assume you’re being kind.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Look at that. Nearly time for lunch. What say we go and have a glass of wine and catch up on old times?’
Anthony hesitated. Sarah had a deserved reputation as a manipulative, scheming troublemaker. But she was also disturbingly sexy and provocative, qualities too easily forgotten until one was up close to her. The scent of the perfume she always wore hit him like a memory.
‘OK, why not?’ He had no reason to hurry back to chambers.
‘Let’s see if we can grab a table at the Market wine bar.’
They were ahead of the rush and found a secluded corner table. Sarah picked up a discarded copy of The Times, while Anthony went to the bar to order glasses of wine and a plate of sandwiches. ‘Things must be getting bad when the big three banks go cap in hand to the government to bail them out,’ she remarked to Anthony, when he came back.
Anthony glanced at the headlines and nodded. ‘Gordon Brown may get what the hard Left have always wanted – the nationalisation of the banks. I can’t believe it’s happened so fast.’
‘It’s going to be hellish on the City job front soon – just like the nineties.’ Sarah helped herself to a sandwich. ‘Not that either of us remembers that. Anyway, let’s not talk economic doom and gloom – there’s far too much of that these days. Tell me what’s going on at Caper Court. God, it seems like a lifetime since I was a pupil there. Everyone still as dull and worthy as ever?’
Anthony smiled wryly. ‘I imagine by your standards we’re tedious in the extreme.’
‘Mmm. Life as a barrister would never have suited me. Far too much like hard work. Come on, give me the low-down on everyone. Is Henry still dying of unrequited love for Felicity?’
‘Actually, there’s a rumour – unsubstantiated beyond a sighting of Henry in a pub with some lady – that his heart belongs elsewhere.’
‘I don’t believe it. It was an open secret that he adored Felicity.’
‘Henry probably realised it was one-way traffic. He’s not getting any younger. Probably wants to settle down. Anyway, the great love of Felicity’s life, Vince, is coming out of prison soon.’
‘I’d forgotten him – didn’t he get done for manslaughter, or something?’
Anthony nodded, helping himself to another sandwich. ‘Hit some chap in an argument, and he fell over and cracked his head and died. Vince has done half of his sentence, so government policy means he’ll be out before the end of the year.’
‘Right.’ There was a pause, then Sarah asked casually, ‘And what about Leo? How’s he?’
The question surprised Anthony. As he recalled, Sarah’s friendship with Leo had been the reason why she’d come to Caper Court in the first place. ‘You don’t see him?’
‘Why should I?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I just assumed you were still in touch.’ Anthony paused, then said, ‘Leo is as well as ever. Doing all the usual Leo things.’
Sarah thought she detected a certain edge to Anthony’s voice. She knew enough about the relationship he had with Leo, about the odd kind of love which existed between them. Something Leo could handle, but not Anthony.
‘He should be careful,’ she said. ‘He’ll break someone’s heart one of these days.’
‘I should think that happens with alarming regularity. The only person in the world he really cares about is Oliver.’
Sarah nodded. ‘His Achilles heel.’