Free Breath of Corruption by Caro Fraser Page A

watching Jenny and Oliver playing with a plastic tipper truck.
    ‘He’s a lovely boy,’ said Alasdair, ‘but I can’t help feeling grateful that our two are off our hands. Ruinously expensive things, kids.’
    ‘I just wish I had more time with Oliver,’ said Leo. ‘I only see him every other weekend.’
    ‘I know the feeling – fifteen years ago, when I was working all the hours God sent, I hardly ever saw Toby and Ed. NowI get all my work done at home, rarely have to go up to London, thank God.’
    ‘Don’t you miss the Bar?’
    ‘Now and then. Miss the conviviality. But if I had a young family, I’d jump ship straight away. Having said that’ – Alasdair sipped his beer – ‘communications being what they are now, there’s probably no need. Who needs to be in an office, when you’ve got the phone and the Internet?’
    ‘True.’
    ‘I’m surprised you stay up in London, when you have this place. Couldn’t you get a good deal of your work done here?’
    ‘I suppose so,’ said Leo, ‘but I have to go to court. Besides, I like London.’
    ‘So do I,’ said Jenny, getting up a little stiffly from the floor. ‘Whatever Al says, I need my bimonthly fix of shopping and people. Thank God we have the little place in Pimlico.’
    ‘Ah,’ said Leo, ‘so you haven’t cut your ties altogether?’ He put down his drink and began to clear away Oliver’s toys.
    ‘No,’ admitted Alasdair, ‘but I still think anyone who lives in that hellhole on a permanent basis is stark-staring mad.’
    ‘Or has a living to earn.’
    ‘That’s my point. Barristers are self-employed creatures. Historically they’ve banded together in sets of chambers through physical necessity and financial convenience. But with technology improving every year, in theory most of them are already able to work wherever they want – apart from court appearances, of course. I think the physical point of having sets of chambers will become redundant in time.’
    ‘I think perhaps you’re taking a somewhat utilitarian view of the Bar. There’s more to it than work, you know.’ Leo stoopedto pick up Oliver. ‘Come on, young man – time for bed.’
    ‘You said I could have some pudding!’ said Oliver, clasping his hands around his father’s neck and gazing at him with challenging blue eyes.
    ‘So I did,’ said Leo. ‘Come and show Jenny and Al what a clever cook you are.’
    When Oliver had had his crumble and some milk, and was tucked safely in bed, Leo cooked steaks and made a salad, and the three of them ate at the big wooden table in the kitchen. After a few glasses of wine Jenny, as usual, began to quiz Leo solicitously about his love life. She was convinced that it was just a question of finding Leo the right woman. Leo, to satisfy her curiosity, told them about Anthea.
    Later, when they were leaving, Jenny said, ‘Next time you come down, bring your girlfriend – we could do with a bit of glamour around here!’
    Leo went back into the quiet house and began to clear up the dishes and coffee cups. Then he poured the remains of the wine into a glass and took it through to an armchair in the living room. Perhaps he should bring Anthea down some weekend. Maybe when he next had Oliver – Oliver was such a sucker for a pretty face. And Anthea, for all her frivolity, wasn’t as shallow as she pretended. Leo had found himself growing rather fond of her. She was amusing, she was affectionate, her attitude towards her own appetites was robust and uncomplicated, yet for all the intimacy they shared, she kept a part of herself at a charming distance. Leo found that intriguing and attractive. He liked her friends better than he had thought he would, too. Those he had met at the handful of dinner parties they’d been to were interesting, sensible people, of a variety of ages. Althoughhe had met her just once, Lola was his favourite. While she certainly didn’t fall into the sensible category, Leo was naturally attracted by her