Next of Kin (51 page)

‘Our son's life is at stake!' she shouted, standing up. ‘And you're just going to sit there and—'

‘I can't do it.'

‘But why not? Oh for heaven's sake, Roderick, who cares who the king is anyway? Who cares who he marries? Who cares who follows him? Let them decide themselves who the heir should be. It means nothing to us.'

‘I can't compromise my integrity.
That
means something, surely.'

‘It means nothing,' she roared. ‘He's only been the bloody king for a wet weekend anyway. He's nothing to us. Just change your vote.'

‘I can't,' he said, beginning to regret having told her in the first place. ‘I won't. No matter what.'

She stared at him. He was not looking at her and his jaw was set in that way that she knew indicated that he meant business; suddenly her own decision to try to bribe the jury did not seem so terrible after all. She tried to steady herself and compose her thoughts. Finally she spoke, quietly but effectively.

‘If you don't do what he asks you, Roderick, then on the day that Gareth hangs, I will pack my bags and leave this house and I will never return to it, nor will I ever lay eyes on you again. You will lose your son and your wife on the same day. You will be alone.'

He looked at her now. ‘Jane, you can't be serious. You'd have me go against everything I've ever—'

‘I've told you what will happen,' she said, standing up and moving slowly towards the door. ‘The decision now is yours.'

She left the room without another word but he remained seated, knowing that despite all his heavy-handed principles and belief in his own integrity, he had hoped for an ultimatum like this, something that would make him feel less guilty if his resolve crumbled and he gave in to Keaton's demand.

8

THE CAR PULLED UP
alongside him as he walked around Russell Square on his way to his flat in Bedford Place. At first he barely noticed it slowing down behind him, assuming that someone was trying to locate a house number along the street but then it moved forwards abruptly and stopped about twelve feet ahead of him and he feared the worst. As he approached it the front door opened and Henderson, Nicholas Delfy's enormous henchman, stepped out and smiled at him.

‘Good evening, Mr Montignac,' he said politely.

‘Hello,' he replied with a sigh. ‘Is this a coincidence or were you looking for me?'

‘I came looking for you earlier this evening but you were nowhere to be found. For a moment I was a little worried that you'd run away on us.'

‘Of course not,' he said, adding a gentle laugh for the sake of bravado. ‘I was just away from London for a few hours. And now I'm heading home.'

‘I don't think so,' said Henderson, opening the back door where another of Delfy's goons was sitting. ‘Why don't you come for a ride with us instead?'

Montignac began to feel nervous and shook his head. ‘I have until Christmas,' he said forcefully. ‘Nicholas told me that I didn't have to pay the money back until Christmas.'

‘Mr Delfy just wants a word with you, that's all. Just a gentle reminder.' He paused and the smile faded from his face. ‘Get in the car, Mr Montignac,' he said and it was clear that he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

He had no choice now and stepped inside. They drove to the Unicorn Ballrooms in silence and Montignac could feel a knot of apprehension in his stomach as they got closer. It occurred to him that he should take pride in the fact that he had managed to stick to his plan throughout the year and had not allowed any of his vices to drag him down. There had been no gambling whatsoever since the disastrous evening which had led him to build up his initial debts, and on the evenings when he had an irresistible urge to go to a different casino he had exerted all his willpower to ensure that he did not. When all this is over, he thought, just imagine what I can achieve.

He was led down a corridor past the doormen and Henderson told him to wait for a moment while he stepped inside. After a few minutes he was ushered inside where he found Delfy sitting behind his desk.

‘Owen,' he said with a wide smile. ‘I haven't seen you in so long. Thanks for coming in.'

‘That's all right, Nicholas,' he said, sitting down opposite him, trying to affect the air of bonhomie that might be seen in an old friend rather than a debtor. ‘I wasn't expecting the summons, however.'

‘Well I thought tonight might be of interest to you in a way. There's someone I want you to meet.'

‘Who?'

‘I'll introduce you in a few minutes. First I thought it would be a good chance for us to catch up with each other and make sure we know where we both stand. Do you know what date it is today, Owen?'

He glanced at the calendar on the wall although he was well aware of the date; the countdown to Christmas was engrained on his mind. ‘December the eighth,' he said.

‘December the eighth, that's right. The season of Advent is already upon us and I haven't done any of my shopping yet. Have you?'

Montignac smiled to himself. ‘No,' he said.

‘Well we both need to get on to that,' said Delfy happily. ‘Because by my calculations there are only seventeen days left until Christmas which means there are only seventeen days left for you to raise the forty thousand pounds that you owe me. By the way,' he added, almost as an afterthought, ‘how is that going?'

‘You don't have to worry, Nicholas. You'll have your money.'

‘Oh I'm not worried,' he said with a shrug. ‘Why should I be? I don't have anything to worry about. No one's going to put a bullet through my head if I haven't raised the money by then.'

Montignac nodded; he doubted very much that it would be as clean and painless as a bullet through the head.

‘No, I have every confidence in you, Owen,' continued Nicholas. ‘From what I hear you've been engaged in a most ingenious plan.'

‘Really,' said Montignac, raising an eyebrow.

‘Indeed. I believe that there's an unfortunate young man standing trial for his life at the moment in order that another man can achieve his life's ambitions and you can clear your debts. Quite an extraordinary sea change he'll produce too if the plan works. You wouldn't have anything to do with that, Owen, would you?'

‘I don't know what you're talking about,' said Montignac, stunned that their scheme was not entirely confidential. After a moment he had to add: ‘How did you know about that?' he asked.

‘Oh I hear a lot of things. I pay a lot of people to keep me informed. Actually, I think it's quite ingenious. I feel sorry for the Bentley boy, of course, but there we are. All's fair in love and war and all that. And I happen to have known Lord Keaton for quite a long time. He's quite mad, of course, but determined.'

‘Yes,' said Montignac. ‘Well I'll get paid when the plan reaches completion. And then you'll get paid. And that will be an end to it.'

‘Marvellous,' said Delfy, coming around from behind the desk and ushering Montignac to his feet. ‘Then come with me. Now I think I'll make that little introduction. I only called you here because I knew he was coming and I thought, for future reference in your life, you might be interested to know who it is that you've been working against.'

He led him out the office door and through the corridor and into the bar area of the club where the booths were, as ever, mostly full. Delfy stopped at the bar and ordered a couple of bottles of champagne to be sent over to table four, which was where they were headed. They stopped a few feet away, Delfy with his arm protectively around Montignac's shoulder, and nodded in the group's direction.

‘Well?' he said. ‘What do you think?'

Montignac stared at the table in amazement before turning back to look at Delfy. For a moment he could scarcely believe who he was looking at and wasn't sure he could go through with it.

‘Come on,' said Delfy, pushing him forwards. ‘There's nothing to be nervous about.'

There were three people seated at the booth and they all looked up as Delfy and Montignac walked towards them. They seemed to be engaged in a serious and almost argumentative conversation and didn't look happy about being interrupted but they knew their host and had to say hello.

‘Your Majesty,' said Delfy, giving a polite bow of the head as he stood before him. ‘So sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to introduce a young friend of mine who's a great admirer.'

‘Of course, Delfy, of course,' said the king, who stood up and offered his hand, which Montignac took nervously. ‘Sit down for a moment if you like.'

He stressed the word ‘moment' and they knew they would not be welcome for long; he was obviously experienced at greeting and dismissing his minions. Delfy sat on the other side of the table beside the other man, while Montignac took his place beside the king. In the centre of the group, decked out in a fine gown and lavish jewellery sat the former wife of both Mr Earl Spencer of Kansas and Mr Ernest Simpson of New York City. Wallis.

‘This is Owen Montignac,' said Delfy. ‘Peter Montignac's boy.'

‘Montignac, of course,' said the king. ‘Yes, I knew your father a little—'

‘My uncle, actually,' said Montignac, wondering why no one could ever get it right.

‘No,' said the king quickly, unaccustomed to being corrected or interrupted. ‘I knew your father.'

Montignac frowned. ‘You mean—?'

‘Henry was your father, wasn't he? Peter's brother?'

‘Yes,' said Montignac, intrigued. ‘Yes he was. How did you know him?'

‘Oh, it was a long time ago. When I was a boy. Your grandfather and my father, the late king, were friends and Henry and I used to see each other from time to time. He was a fine fellow, I admired him very much. I was terribly sorry when he died.'

‘Thank you, sir,' said Montignac, a little overcome by such a personal memory. ‘It's very kind of you to say so.'

‘Well it's the truth, that's all. These are two dear friends of mine by the way. Walter Monckton,' he said, indicating the man. ‘And Mrs Wallis Simpson.'

Delfy and Montignac shook their hands and exchanged hellos.

‘And what do you do, Mr Montignac?' asked Mrs Simpson. ‘Are you one of the idle rich like Walter and David?'

‘Idle, indeed,' said the king with a laugh. ‘As if I ever get a moment to myself!'

‘I have aspirations towards indolence,' said Montignac, ‘but unfortunately not the reserves to back them up at the moment. No, I run an art gallery in Cork Street.'

‘Really?' she asked, leaning forwards, interested now. ‘Which one?'

‘The Threadbare Gallery,' he said. ‘Do you know it?'

‘I'm afraid I do,' she said. ‘I'm a great fan of the galleries on Cork Street but I must say yours has a very distinctive taste.'

‘We cater for those with more money than taste,' he replied, unsure whether he was supposed to end the sentence with the word ‘ma'am' or not. He felt an urge to, out of respect. He liked her immediately.

‘Wallis is a great supporter of the arts,' said the king. ‘You should hear the way she talks about some of the pieces in the royal collection. It's like attending a lecture, only without having some moth-eaten old buffoon at the lectern.'

The guests laughed and Montignac watched as Mrs Simpson laid a hand gently on the king's arm, an affectionate gesture, entirely truthful and unpossessive, and the manner in which he used his other hand to tap hers affectionately while she did it. He observed them in their intimacy and envied them.

‘I haven't been here in a long time, Delfy,' said the king. ‘I hope you're not going to rob me blind at the roulette table.'

‘I'm sure you'll have luck on your side, sir,' said Delfy obsequiously.

‘I've never understood the urge for gambling,' said Mrs Simpson. ‘Do you, Mr Montignac? Isn't it true that the house always wins?'

‘She says this,' interrupted the king before Montignac could reply, ‘despite the fact that last summer she lost nearly twenty thousand at the tables in Monte Carlo and had the night of her life.'

‘It's true,' she admitted with an embarrassed smile. ‘I did get rather caught up in the moment. It was terribly exciting but I was awfully ashamed of myself afterwards.'

‘You should have seen her face, Montignac,' said the king, dissolving into laughter. ‘The more she lost, the pinker she got. I thought we were going to have to carry her away kicking and screaming.'

‘Oh, David, stop it,' she said, laughing too. ‘You're embarrassing me.'

Montignac watched them, absolutely fascinated by the easy affection between them. This was what the newspapers never reported on, he realized. They were like a couple of teenagers in love; they reminded him of Stella and himself when they were fifteen. But the world was telling them that they could not be together, and for what?

‘Sir,' said Walter Monckton, from across the table, speaking for the first time as he tapped his watch. ‘We do need to finish discussing…' He trailed off his words without completing the sentence.

‘Of course, of course,' said the king. ‘Sorry, gentlemen, but there are matters of the greatest importance under consideration at this table. I'm sure you're in no doubt as to what they are,' he added.

‘Indeed,' said Delfy, standing up and nodding at Montignac to do the same. ‘I'll see you before you leave anyway.'

‘Mr Montignac,' said the king, shaking his hand again. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you.'

‘And you, sir,' said Montignac. ‘And good luck,' he added spontaneously.

The king frowned. ‘Do you think I'll need it?' he asked after a moment, looking across at Mrs Simpson.

‘On the roulette tables, I meant,' he said quickly, blushing slightly at the familiarity.