Anthony picked up his glass and drained its contents, his thoughts straying, as they so often did at such times of insecurity, to Leo. Like himself, Leo was an outsider from humble beginnings, an interloper in this elite world. And Leo dealt with the situation by operating on Jekyll and Hyde principles – keeping ahead of the game by being a brilliant lawyer, one of the best in his field, making as much money as he could, and using it to indulge himself in a hedonistic private lifestyle far removed from the dull, respectable conventions by which most barristers lived. Perhaps that was the answer. Instead of looking for love, hoping to find the right person to make sense of everything, he should take a leaf out of Leo’s book. Live dangerously. Become less easy, less safe. Someone whom the likes of Sarah wouldn’t find so – what was the word she’d used? So tractable.
He ate the last sandwich, paid the bill and decided to try and excise thoughts of Sarah by walking all the way back to chambers.
Anthony picked up his mail from the clerks’ room and was talking football with Henry when Leo arrived, looking somewhat haggard.
Leo shrugged off his overcoat, flung it over a chair, and fished a batch of letters from his pigeonhole. ‘Thanks for rearranging this morning’s con with Beddoes,’ he said to Henry. ‘My flight into Gatwick last night was delayed, and I really didn’t feel up to it.’
‘Not a problem. He’s coming in later today – four o’clock.’
‘Heavy weekend?’ Anthony asked Leo.
‘You could say that. I spent the weekend in the South of France with Jamie Urquhart. Did you know he’s getting divorced?’
‘No! Wow. That’s a surprise.’
‘Liam …’ Henry addressed a thin, fresh-faced boy of eighteen or so, seated at a desk opposite Felicity, wearing a conspicuously new suit and an alert expression. ‘Coffee time, if you would be so kind.’
The boy got up. ‘Right. Yes. I’m on it. What would everyone—?’
‘Black, one sugar,’ said Felicity, without looking up from her computer screen.
Robert swivelled round in his chair. ‘White, two sugars.’
‘White, no sugar,’ called out Carla, the office manager, from her desk at the other side of the room.
Liam began ticking them off on his fingers, looking anxious. ‘OK, two white, one no sugar, one with one sugar—’
‘Two,’ said Robert.
‘Yeah, right – white, two sugars. Black, one sugar – no, wait …’
‘I’d write it down if I were you, lad,’ said Henry, handing him a pen and a piece of paper. ‘I’m a tea, no sugar.’ Liam began to make his list. He glanced uncertainly at Leo.
‘Would you like a coffee, Mr …?’
‘Davies,’ said Leo. ‘Yes, Liam, I would most certainly like a coffee. Make it black, strong, and no sugar, please.’
‘Mr Cross?’
‘Nothing for me, thanks.’
Liam left the room, frowning at his list.
‘That, I take it, is our new fledgling clerk?’ said Leo.
‘Liam Sturgis. Very bright lad. Keen to do well. I hope to have him in shape by the time Robert leaves us in March.’
‘Let’s hope he lasts longer than – what was her name, the previous one? Seemed like she was hardly here for more than a few days.’
‘Julie.’ Henry shook his head. ‘She wasn’t really cut out for it. Not everyone is. The girls seem to have higher expectations than the boys – don’t like fetching and carrying. I have hopes for Liam. He’s my brother-in-law’s sister’s son, if you follow. His father’s one of the clerks at twenty Essex Street.’
‘Ah, so it’s in the blood,’ smiled Leo.
‘So to speak, sir. So to speak.’ Henry reached out to pick up the phone which had just begun to ring.
Leo resumed his conversation with Anthony. ‘Yes, so – as I was saying, Jamie’s getting divorced, and over a very boozy dinner on Friday night he persuaded me to accompany him to Antibes, to say farewell to his beloved yacht and help him drown his sorrows. The result was …’ Leo winced.
‘What?’
‘That I drank far too much pastis, and finished up becoming the owner of a thirty-six-foot yacht.’
‘You bought it?’ laughed Anthony. ‘Do you know anything about sailing?’
‘It’s not that kind of yacht, thank God. It’s a motor yacht.’
‘I imagine there’s still a lot to learn. Engine maintenance, handling, that kind of thing.’
‘I know, I know.’ Leo rubbed his face. ‘Jamie says I’ll have to go on some kind of course. But not yet. My new toy will be sitting in its berth for the next few months, with some chap called Philippe keeping an eye on it, till I feel like taking an interest.’ He glanced at Anthony. ‘I know what you’re thinking. More money than sense.’