They were lunching together in Chancery Lane, Leo snatching time between court hearings, Gabrielle between lectures and tutorials, when she brought it up again.
‘I don’t understand what difference it makes if I get in touch with her or not,’ said Leo. ‘I would have thought my relationship with you is all that matters. How do you know she even wants to speak to me? It could be difficult for her. Embarrassing. Have you asked her if she wants me to get in touch?’
‘No,’ admitted Gabrielle. ‘I suppose it’s up to you.’
‘Exactly.’
‘I just think you should. I don’t know how you can’t want to. It’s like – it’s like the whole thing is one big jigsaw, and this is the last piece that needs putting in place.’
‘Well, maybe you’ll get married some day, and she and I can meet again at your wedding. A fittingly romantic conclusion?’
‘It’s not about anything being romantic.’ Gabrielle frowned, and Leo could tell his remark had hit home.
‘Really? I think some little-girl part of you wants the long-lost lovers reconciled.’
She shrugged. ‘Yeah, OK. I suppose I want you two to …’ She cast around for words. ‘To, well – acknowledge one another. Otherwise it’s like there’s something you’re both ignoring, pretending doesn’t exist.’
‘By which you mean – you?’
‘Maybe. Anyway, I’ll keep on nagging you. And by the way, I am not romantic. I hate that word. I hate everything it stands for.’
‘I see. So you’re a material girl who doesn’t believe in love.’
‘No. I just don’t like sentimentality. I believe in love. I’m seeing someone now, as a matter of fact. Someone pretty special.’ She thought of Anthony, of how they had seen one another almost every night for the past week. What would Leo say if he knew?
‘That’s nice. A he or a she?’
Gabrielle sat back in her chair. ‘What a random thing to say! A man, of course.’
‘Why of course? One should never presume, these days.’
‘Either you’re trying too hard to be right-on, or—’ She broke off. Something slipped into place.
‘Or what?’
‘Nothing.’
Leo signalled for the bill, not really wanting to take the conversation any further. For all the ease and intimacy they had created over the past month and a half, occasionally they would hit these jarring pockets of incomprehension, which made them realise they didn’t really know one another.
‘I’d better get going,’ said Gabrielle. ‘I have a tutorial in ten minutes.’
‘And I have to get back to court,’ said Leo, fishing out his wallet.
‘I might come along and watch you after my tutorial. Nothing else to do.’
‘You’re very welcome. Although you might find my discourse on what constitutes an unsafe port somewhat tedious.’
She smiled. ‘I’ll be the judge of that. I like watching you in court. You’re pretty cool, you know.’
‘I wish some of my younger colleagues in chambers thought that.’
‘Maybe they do.’ She bent and gave him a light kiss on one cheek. ‘Catch you later.’
When he got back to chambers at five, Leo decided to grasp the nettle. He sat down at his desk, found the piece of paper Gabrielle had given him with Jackie’s number, and rang it. The photograph of Jackie had acted on his memory like an evocative trace of scent, or a snatch of music, but no matter how hard he tried to recall the places and events of that summer, he couldn’t bring them to life. One of so many affairs. Even the fact that she was French didn’t help – yet how many French women had he slept with? He was in the middle of counting when a woman’s voice, light, smoky, answered.
‘Hello?’
‘Jackie?’
There was a pause. He could hear traffic sounds at her end, then she said, ‘Yes. Who is this?’
‘Leo. Leo Davies. Gabrielle gave me your number.’
‘Oh.’ She let out a breath, as if giving in to something. Leo realised she must have been preparing for this for some time.
‘I meant to call before now.’
‘No – it’s I who should have called you,’ she replied hurriedly. ‘A long time ago.’ The emotion in her voice made him realise that the subject of Gabrielle was not one to be dealt with in the blundering clumsiness of an out-of-the-blue phone call.
‘I thought … I thought perhaps it would be a good idea to meet and have a talk.’
‘Yes. Yes, of course. Hold on a moment – I’m sorry. I’m just paying a taxi.’ A moment later she came back on the line. ‘I’m in the West End right now. I could come over to the City and meet you somewhere in, say, half an hour?’