Judicial Whispers by Caro Fraser Page A

and tugged her hand, ‘I’m tired of doing all this stuff. My head can’t stand it. Neither can my job. I’ve got to get some sleep so’s I’m up in time in the morning.’
    ‘A little tab of this and you wouldn’t even need to go to sleep. You’ll be flying for a fortnight.’ She allowed herself to be pulled back down next to him. ‘Go on.’ He gave her his best, beautiful smile, the one that made him look like Tom Cruise with long hair, and handed her the silver foil.
    ‘I’ve never done acid before,’ she said doubtfully.
    ‘It’s beautiful,’ he said, and leant back, closing his eyes. ‘Makes you want to make love all night.’
    ‘Honest?’ She gave him a sideways look and giggled.
    ‘And then you won’t be afraid to do all those interesting things I’ve been wanting us to do.’
    ‘That’s all you think about, isn’t it? Sex.’ She stared at the silver foil. ‘And drugs.’
    ‘And rock and roll,’ added Vince. And they both laughed. Just this once, thought Felicity. It’ll be all right with Vince.
     
    The next day, the first of October, was bright and mild. Mr Slee, head clerk at 5 Caper Court, came back well satisfied after lunch. He had spent a profitable morning persuading the clerk of the Commercial Court to shuffle the lists in his favour, and had followed it with two pints in the Suffolk Arms with fellow senior clerks. He felt serene and benevolent. He smiled upon the typists, he whistled as he opened the lunchtime mail, and he delivered only the mildest of reproofs to Henry, the junior clerk, for negligently arranging a conference with solicitors for Mr Hayter on a day when he was already due in court.
    As he made his way to Leo’s room with some papers which had just come in, Mr Slee felt like a king in his kingdom. He often felt this way. To hold the reins of power in such an illustrious set of chambers was a thing of great pride to him. Without him, the barristers would be lost. He it was who organised their cases, arranged their conferences, negotiated their fees. He liked, too, to feel that he acted as the spirit of tolerance and harmony within chambers. Not that he ever displayed his pride. Discretion and humility were all. Mr Slee was well schooled in this; his father had been a barrister’s clerk, and his father before him.
    But as soon as he entered Leo’s room, Mr Slee could tell that Leo did not share his equable frame of mind that day. He satbehind his desk, some papers spread out before him, leaning back and chewing on a paperclip. Mr Slee didn’t know how Leo could do that, he really didn’t; it set his teeth on edge just to watch him.
    Leo leant forward and frowned as Mr Slee put the papers on his desk, murmuring some pleasantry about the weather.
    ‘William, what’s happened to the money on that letter of credit case? I should have had it weeks ago.’ It suited Leo to be peevish with William. He seemed to be in a perpetually bad mood these days and found it useful to take it out on his clerk. He’d spent all last weekend brooding over his application for silk, and that business of Sarah and James had been preying on his mind. Thank God he’d got rid of them – but how had he been such a fool as to let it start? He had only meant to pick up James in that club that night. Sarah had been James’s idea. ‘If you like it both ways, you’ll like Sarah,’ he had said. And Leo had. He had found the entire situation such a novelty that he allowed them to stay. They’d been useful, too – cleaning and cooking for him, looking after the house and the garden, as well as sharing his bed, driving back the loneliness. But nothing could drive that back for long. All this morning he had been chewing paperclips and wondering how he could have let his desires get the better of him, to the point of what now seemed like nauseating folly. Even though it was unlikely that anyone of any importance should learn details of his personal life, it was vital, now that he was