A Clean Pair of Hands (4 page)

During a visit to the Bodins at Maisons-Lafitte in early summer 1986, Michel invited George Milton to spend an afternoon at the French Open tennis championships at the Roland Garros stadium. Michel had acquired some tickets for business clients and had a few spare. George was not a particular fan of professional tennis, though he was still involved in several competitive sports, but he accepted, largely to spend some private time with Michel. They drove around the west of Paris easily and parked in a side street, then walked to the stadium, which stands near the race courses of Longchamps and Auteuil, close to the Porte d'Auteuil. They settled into perfect seats at the top of a stand and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon in weak, hazy sunshine that was pleasantly warm without burning. Sporting entertainment was provided in the men's singles semi-final by Boris Becker, though this time he was defeated by Mikael Pernfors, who went on to lose to Ivan Lendl in the final.

On that day, Boris was in full flight, thrilling the spectators with his athleticism and unconventional shots. Pernfors
played coolly and surgically, less entertaining perhaps, but he scored the points that mattered.

Michel Bodin was in a relaxed mood and George was a good listener, so as the match played out, Michel opened up on self-assessment, his view of life and his philosophy. It revealed an inferiority complex stemming from Michel's acute sensitivity to his lack of height, a frighteningly flexible observance of any moral code and rejection of any social graces that didn't suit him. He revealed a traditional, that is to say authoritarian, stance towards women. He justified his pursuit of material wealth as a means to an end, and that end was not just to make a mark for himself as a successful man, but to enable him to exercise power over other people. Michel repeated his often-aired view that there were only two kinds of people in the world, wolves or sheep, and that he was determined to be a wolf.

The discussion continued periodically with the two men sitting side by side watching the tennis, but relaxing into a reverie as the repetitive rhythm of the game played on.

“Charlotte understands me,” Michel proclaimed. “I treat her well. After all, she is the mother of my children.”

“Is that all?” muttered George, facing the tennis.

Michel pulled George's shoulder towards him and growled into his ear, “I am driven by impulses. I am a very passionate person. Charlotte knows that, and she accepts it.”

George wondered where the conversation was leading, but Michel turned his attention back to the tennis, possibly believing that George was unsympathetic, or uninterested in his ideas.

Later, during a pause in play, he leaned towards George, advancing his chin.

“Eh George! What do you really think of me?” he asked.

George was completely unprepared for this question. “Why do you ask me that now?”

“I sometimes think you look down on me. You are better educated and you Anglo-Saxons always think you are superior. I sometimes think you are being censorious towards me.”

George reflected before replying quietly, “Well, firstly, I don't look down on anybody. It's just not my way to appoint myself a snob. As to being censorious, I don't judge you. Remember that an inferiority complex is often created by people who cast themselves as victims, to explain why they are the way they are. It is not always imposed on them and most of us don't start life by being inferior, even if each person is different and some are truly disadvantaged. You just have to feel inferior and then that's what you become.

“I was part of a single parent family- one of many as a result of World War Two, and I had no great results at school, though thanks to a bunch of teachers who took a real interest in their pupils and shared their lives in and out of the classroom, I learned to get on with a wide range of people, which has served me well. My education was partly paid by an army charity and my mother had to work to find the rest. Since then I have been continually pursuing my education, and like you I believe that education never stops. I went to university as an adult and that was a course part-funded by the Workers' Education Association, another charity to whom I will be eternally grateful.”

Michel didn't appear deeply interested in George's response.

“Yes, but what do you really think of me now?” Michel insisted. “You are used to assessing people. If I came to you for a job, what would you think?”

“I would keep an open mind until I had got into a comfortable
discussion and tested the person's views from several different directions.”

“Yes, but he might be lying to you,” said Michel.

“Nobody tells all the truth when they are trying to impress someone. They filter their version of what they think the other person wants to hear,” acknowledged George.

“That's true. Honesty and dishonesty are relative terms. Appearance, authority, and confidence can make people seem more honest than they really are in any walk of life. These days, that's what makes politicians appear honest in the eyes of the public. They can afford to dress up and lie through their teeth. Politicians who dress down or look weird have no credibility, though they may be sincere.”

“But do you think politicians ever stop to consider whether what they do is honest?”

Michel thought about the question. “Do you mean do they ever believe they are sincere and have any dignity?” he asked, for clarification.

“Yes, that's a way of putting it,” George confirmed.

“Hmm, some politicians may really believe what they say until they find out that they have no effective legal levers to solve the main problems, and as soon as they try to take any remedial action they are attacked by the press, denigrated by the electorate and held responsible for almost anything that can possibly effect the uninterrupted wellbeing of influential groups in the population. After they've discovered that, their words sound just like some of the most pompous and dogmatic statements of religious hypocrisy that shaped social and political attitudes two centuries ago, and are still being trotted out today in some countries by religious extremists, and I mean in so-called modern countries in the west just as much as in totalitarian states. You know, George, you and our political classes have
very different priorities. You see, a really ambitious man never puts dignity above the advantages of power.”

At that moment the tennis started again. Sensing another question from Michel, George deferred the discussion. He shuffled on his seat. “Look, if you really want to discuss this in depth, let's do it in private after the match.”

“OK. Let's do that,” Michel conceded.

For the rest of the afternoon, the atmosphere between them was less relaxed. Instead of concentrating on the tennis, George was thinking about what he would say and not say to Michel. He was not naturally a confrontational person and was dealing with his host, a respected relative, so he decided to go easy. He had no right to be critical.

After the match, they filtered through the departing crowds, found the car and Michel drove a short distance from the stadium, on a wide main road that led towards the centre of Paris, until they came to a large bar restaurant. It suited their purpose because there was a place to park at the kerb almost right outside, and there were plenty of seated customers, proving the popularity of the place for meeting, chatting and eating, or just observing. The outside terrace was plagued by traffic noise so they headed for the main door. Once inside, George noted that it was a traditional brasserie, superbly fitted with carved, dark wood and lots of glass, which made it warm and friendly yet classy in the style of ‘La Belle- Epoque' of around 1900. Michel knew the owner and explained that this was one of
his
renovations that had been carried out in the early 1980s. On hearing this, George took a greater interest and noted that it was beautifully executed in retro style with ornate pillars, etched glass and mirrors, so that wherever you sat you were never faced with a blank wall. There were comfortable wooden chairs with curved back rests and solid well-supported tables surrounded by
a selection of elegant artefacts that looked old even if they were modern repro. Beautifully opulent chandeliers looked as though they had been reclaimed from a theatre. There was a central, waist high, carved wooden division between the brasserie, where all-day snacks were served, and the restaurant where the resident chef pampered serious diners between midday and midnight. Along the dividing screen were ornamental clothes racks in wood and brass for each table. It was exactly what a discerning foreigner would visualise as the archetypal traditional Paris brasserie where tourists go to impregnate themselves with French good taste and style, and this was a suburban, main road location, not the
chic quartiers
of Paris.

Michel ordered beers and, as he was hungry, a croque monsieur. George had the same. Once they were served, Michel re-opened their conversation.

“So, what questions would you ask me?” He checked himself. “No, tell me what you think or know about me before you ask the questions.”

George was cautious not to reveal the limits of their common ground at this stage. “Well, we've known each other for quite a few years now, and we share a lot of things; an interest in arts and culture, good food and drink, socialising, et cetera. It is quite easy for us to find things to do together. You have always been a generous host to Thérèse and me and I know the same generosity extends to the other members of the family, too; I admire your energy and enthusiasm for business, and your success in sales and project management. You have a great aptitude for that. Our feelings toward you are absolutely genuine. It's no effort on our part, and I know I can express my opinions freely with you, even where we may disagree. That's what makes it so satisfying.”

Michel appeared to ignore the compliments. “Do you
think the other members of the family appreciate me for what I do?” he asked.

“I think sometimes you overwhelm them, Michel. They are not used to such expensive manifestations of generosity. Some of your presents could be more modest and perhaps more suited to their needs. But overall, I think they are proud of your success, the fact that you remember them at birthdays, and that you are happy to share what you have with them. I know Charlotte is the one who deals directly with family and social relations, but everybody knows you are behind it too.”

There was a long pause while Michel took in George's comments, then staring into his glass, “I am a nobody, so I have to do whatever is necessary to succeed and some people might not approve of what I do.”

In response to this statement, George decided to avoid asking any questions about what ‘whatever is necessary' might mean. “So what motivates you to work as hard as you do?” he asked.

“I am not looking for public recognition. That's not my scene at all. I just love to be one up on the people I deal with or meet casually, so I can say, ‘I may be a nobody, but I'm better-off than most so-called celebrities.' I know that you and Thérèse are great analysts of people, and I wonder sometimes if you disapprove of me,” said Michel pensively.

“What do you think there is to disapprove of?”

“I don't know, but sometimes Thérèse is very direct. I believe she has my interests at heart, but she is an investigator of my mind and pursues a line of questioning in a way that shows she doesn't altogether believe my answers. Even if I tried it would be hard to tell what's going on in my brain. There are no clear thoughts as such, just something vague, but above all, intense feelings that I have lost my way and I need to refocus.”

“Should she believe everything you say? She's no fool.”

Michel was beginning to look uncomfortable. “Look, I have a private life that I don't want to discuss with anybody and I don't want anybody to probe into it. I want to keep it entirely separate.”

“I am not probing. It was you who invited me to ask questions. You don't have to answer them. I take people at face value. That's to say I initially believe what they tell me, but I also have eyes and ears to give me a second opinion.”

“And what do your eyes and ears tell you about me?” Michel urged.

“Nothing directly, but in the case of some of your friends and acquaintances there are gaps in my knowledge as to the kind of relationships you have with them. I just don't know. I can't categorise what the relationship consists of.”

“Who, for example?”

This time it was George's turn to cover up. He smiled. “I also have thoughts and ideas that I don't share with anybody. It's not that I have a secret life, but I prefer to be discreet about the lives of others because it's none of my business how people live and make their choices. I just observe. I don't judge,” he paused, “but I am discriminating and I do wonder sometimes whether you are taking a few risks that could one day backfire.”

“I adore taking risks. Don't you ever take risks?” Michel sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, mentally savouring some of his adventures.

“Of course, I've often taken personal and financial risks, sometimes unwittingly,” admitted George, “but I'm not setting out to take the kind of risks that you are taking on a family and financial level. I guess that's because I'm happy with what I have.”

“Listen, I have always enjoyed taking risks, extreme
risks. I have to. You have to take account of what it's like to work in France. Nothing is clean and transparent. Nothing is logical. It's not what you know, it's who you know and who knows you that matters most here. It's because nobody trusts anybody they don't know. You get a job by recommendation. Nepotism rules; mayors, government ministers and the President put their family on the payroll even if they don't work. You have to have contacts in the police so you can get your speeding tickets removed; you make an honest tax declaration and get clobbered by an extra ten per cent in case you are fiddling. So, OK mister philosopher, speak clearly. Wouldn't you do the same? Put your hand on your conscience and tell me the truth. You were not always as well off as you are today. I was the same. Now we are both big men in business. Surely you have taken risks?”