As soon as she spoke his name, she could feel the tension crystallise. When she looked up, Leo’s face was giving nothing away, though a muscle had tightened in one cheek. ‘Really? You should have said something before.’ His expression might be unreadable, but Gabrielle could detect an edge to his voice.
‘I told you – I didn’t know. We haven’t being seeing one another very long.’
Leo nodded. He picked up his coffee and took a sip. ‘Does he know about me?’
‘What? That you’re my father? Of course not.’
‘I’d have thought it would be a point of interest.’
‘To be honest, I haven’t told anyone. No one knows, except my family. Not even my best friends.’
Leo nodded, saying nothing.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Gabrielle. She asked the question in apparent innocence, knowing full well what was wrong. Far from being appalled or disgusted at the knowledge, confirmed now by Leo’s behaviour, that there was something going on between him and Anthony, she felt excited and curious. The knowledge gave her a strange sense of power over both of them. She tried to imagine, thinking of her own affair with Anthony and the hours spent in his bed, Leo enjoying the same pleasure.
‘Nothing’s wrong.’ Leo gave a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘When were you thinking of mentioning it to people? About my being your father?’
‘I don’t know. I probably won’t, unless it comes up. I mean, it’s hardly the kind of thing you go around telling people randomly, is it?’
Leo didn’t know how to respond. He was stunned by the misfortune that, of all the people in the world, she should be seeing Anthony. Sleeping with him, too, no doubt – possibly even in love with him. Why was it his immediate instinct that the relationship should be destroyed? Was he jealous? Afraid? The lightning thoughts and impulses prompted by her revelation began to settle and rationalise. She was right to say that the information that Leo was her biological father was not something she was going to broadcast. She would only tell people who mattered to her. Thus, she was only likely to tell Anthony if the relationship developed into something serious. God alone knew what would happen then. It would be beyond anyone’s control. If Anthony found out now – and it wouldn’t be from Gabrielle, it seemed – his reaction would probably be to end the relationship. That would probably be for the best. She herself had said she hadn’t been seeing him for very long.
He tried to relax his manner. ‘Well, life is full of coincidences, I suppose. He’s a lovely chap. Very bright.’
‘He speaks very highly of you.’
Leo studied Gabrielle, wondering if there was something which he wasn’t quite grasping. She was his daughter, after all, and devious behaviour was very probably in the genes. But he could read nothing in her expression, which was as sweet and open as ever. Best to let it go, while he worked out how to deal with the situation. He glanced at his watch.
‘Probably a good idea to turn in. We’ve got an early flight tomorrow.’
They went to their separate rooms. Gabrielle lay in bed, thinking, wondering how and when she would ever be able to tell Anthony that Leo was her father. She wasn’t sure, after this evening, that it was necessarily a good idea. But how, in all conscience, could she not?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Every year, when Christmas came to 5 Caper Court, Felicity cast herself as the unofficial Mistress of Revels, and would go around chambers decked out in her flashing Santa Claus earrings, humming cheesy Christmas pop songs, and draping pieces of tinsel over everyone’s PC. Her special pleasures were decorating the Christmas tree in reception, and arranging the food and drink for the chambers Christmas party, at which she would later get happily hammered.
But this year she didn’t seem to have the heart for it. She couldn’t even be bothered getting out the box of tinsel from the coat cupboard. The Christmas tree stood in reception as usual, tastefully decorated by a couple of the secretaries, but the clerks’ room was sombre and bare. Everyone noticed, and everyone was privately dismayed – even the senior members of chambers, who every year pretended to shudder at Felicity’s enthusiasm for sparkle and for singing ‘I Wish it Could be Christmas Every Day’ while doing the post.
‘Not very festive round here,’ remarked Jeremy Vane to Leo, as he fished his mail from his pigeonhole. ‘Not even a Christmas card in sight.’
‘Everyone sends electronic ones now.’
‘I know. Ghastly.’ He glanced at Leo. ‘How was your weekend?’