Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less (31 page)

“Don’t worry,” said Stephen. “He’s asked me
to pick it up.” Stephen returned to find James holding forth to Harvey on the
importance of keeping his donation as a bond between himself and the
university.

Stephen undid the box and took out the
magnificent gown of a Doctor of Letters. Harvey turned red with embarrassment
and pride as Adrian placed it on his shoulders, chanting some Latin, which was
nothing more than his old school motto. The ceremony was completed in a few
moments.

“Many congratulations,” bellowed James. “What
a pity we could not have organised this to be part of today’s ceremony, but for
such a munificent gesture as yours we could hardly wait another year.”

Brilliant, thought Stephen, Laurence Olivier
could not have done better.

“That’s fine by me,” said Harvey as he sat
down and made out a cheque to cash. “You have my word that this matter will
never be mentioned again.”

None of them believed that.

They stood in silence as Harvey rose and
passed the cheque to James.

“No, sir.”
James transfixed him with a glare.

The others looked dumbfounded.

“The vice chancellor.”

“Of course.
Excuse me, sir.”

“Thank you,” said Adrian, his hand trembling
as he received the cheque. “A most gracious
gift,
and
you may be sure we shall put it to good use.”

There was a loud knock on the door. They all
looked round startled, except for James, who was now ready for anything. It was
Harvey’s chauffeur. James had always hated the pretentious white uniform with
the white hat.

“Ah, the efficient Mr. Mellor,” said Harvey.
“Gentlemen, I guarantee he’s been watching every move we’ve made today.”

The four froze, but the chauffeur had
clearly made no sinister deductions from his observations.

“Your car is ready, sir,
You
wanted to be back at Claridge’s by seven o’clock to be in good time for your
dinner appointment.

“Young man,” bellowed James.

“Yes, sir,” whimpered the chauffeur.

“Do you know you are in the presence of the
vice chancellor of this university?”

“No, sir.
I’m very sorry, sir.”

“Take your hat off immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

The chauffeur removed his hat and retreated
to the car, swearing quietly under his breath.

“Vice Chancellor, I sure hate to break up
our party, but as you’ve heard I do have an appointment. . .”

“Of course, of course, and
may
I once again officially thank you for your most generous
donation, which will be used to benefit many deserving people. We all hope you
have a safe journey back to the States and will remember us as warmly as we
shall remember you.”

Harvey moved towards to the door.

“I will take my leave of you now, sir,”
shouted James. “It will take me twenty minutes to get down those damned steps.
You are a fine man and you have been most generous.”

“It was nothing,” said Harvey expansively.

True enough, thought James, nothing to you.

Stephen, Adrian and Jean Pierre accompanied
Harvey from the Clarendon to the waiting Rolls.

“Professor,” said Harvey, “I didn’t quite
understand everything the old guy was saying.” As he spoke he shifted the
weight of his heavy robes on his shoulders self-consciously.

“Well, he’s very deaf and very old, but his
heart’s
in the right place. He wanted you to know that this
has to be an anonymous donation as far as the university is concerned,
though,
of course, the Oxford hierarchy will know the truth.
If it were public knowledge all sorts of undesirables who have never done
anything for education in the past would all come along wanting to buy an
honorary degree.”

“Of course, of course.
I understand. That’s fine by me,” said
Harvey. “I want to thank you for a swell day and wish you all the luck for the
future.”

He climbed into the Rolls Royce and waved
enthusiastically to the three of them as they watched the car start
effortlessly on its journey back to London.

Three down and one to go.

“James was brilliant,” said Jean Pierre. “When
he first came in I didn’t know who the hell it was.”

“I agree,” said Adrian. “Let’s go and rescue
him–truly the hero of the day.”

They all three ran up the steps, forgetting
that they looked somewhere between the ages of fifty and sixty, and rushed back
into the vice chancellor’s room to congratulate James, who lay silent in the
middle of the floor. He had passed out,

An hour later, in Magdalen, with the help of
Adrian and two large whiskies, James was back to normal health.

“You were fantastic,” said Stephen, “just at
the point when I was beginning to lose my nerve.”

“You would have received an Academy Award if
we could have put it on screen,” said Adrian. “Your father will have to let you
go on the stage after that performance.”

James basked in his first moment of glory
for three months. He could not wait to tell Anne.

“Anne.” He quickly looked at his watch.
“Six-thirty!
Oh hell, I am meeting Anne at eight and I must
leave at once. See you all next Monday in Stephen’s rooms for dinner. By then I
will try to have my plan ready.” James rushed out of the room.

“James.”

His face reappeared round the door. They all
said in chorus,

“Fantastic!”

He grinned, ran down the stairs and leapt
into his Alfa Romeo, which he now felt he would be able to keep, and headed
towards London at top speed.

It took him fifty-nine minutes from Oxford
to the King’s Road. The new motorway had made a considerable difference since
those days when he was an undergraduate. Then the journey had taken anything
from an hour and a half to two hours through High Wycombe or Henley.

The reason for the rush was because the
meeting with Anne was most important and under no circumstances must he be
late,
for tonight he was due to meet her father. He was
determined to make a good impression, particularly after Anne’s successful
weekend at Tathwell Hall. The old man had taken to her at once and never left
her side. They had even managed to agree on a wedding date, subject, of course,
to the approval of Anne’s parents.

James had a quick cold shower and removed
all his makeup, losing some sixty years in the process. He had arranged to meet
Anne for a drink at Les Ambassadeurs Club in Mayfair before dinner and as he
put on his dinner jacket, he wondered if he could make it from the King’s Road
to Hyde Park Corner in twelve minutes. He leapt into his car, revving it
quickly through the gears, shot along to Sloane Square, through Eaton Square,
up past St. George’s Hospital, round Hyde Park Corner into Park Lane, and
arrived at two minutes to eight.

“Good evening, my lord,” said Mr. Mills, the
club owner.

“Good evening. I’m dining with Miss
Summerton and I have had to leave my car double parked. Can you take care of
it?” said James, dropping the keys and a pointed note into the doorman’s
white-gloved hand.

“Delighted, my lord.
Show Lord Brigsley to the
private rooms.”

James followed the head porter up the red
staircase and into a small Regency room where dinner had been laid for three.
He could hear Anne’s voice in the next room. She came through looking even more
beautiful than usual in a floating mint green dress.

“Hello, darling.
Come on through and meet Daddy.” James
followed Anne into the next room.

“Daddy, this is James. James, this is my
father.” James went red and then white, and then he felt green.

“How are you, my
boy.
I have heard so much about you from Rosalie that I can’t wait to get
acquainted.”

“
Call me Harvey,” said Anne’s father. James
stood aghast and speechless. Anne jumped into the silence.

“Shall I get your usual whisky, James?”

James found his voice with difficulty.

“Thank you.”

“I want to know all about you,” continued
Harvey, “what you get up to and why I have seen so little of my daughter in the
last few weeks, though I think I know the answer to that.”

James drank the whisky in one gulp and Anne
quickly refilled his glass.

“You see so little of your daughter because
I am modelling and I am very rarely in London.”

“I know, Rosalie...”

“James knows me as Anne, Daddy.”

“We christened you Rosalie. It was good
enough for your mother and me and it ought to be good enough for you.”

“Daddy, whoever heard of a top European
model calling
herself
Rosalie Metcalfe? All my friends
know me as Anne Summerton.”

“What do you think, James?”

“I was beginning to think I didn’t know her
at all,” replied James, recovering slowly. It was obvious that Harvey did not
suspect anything. He had not seen James face to face at the gallery, he did not
see him at Monte Carlo or Ascot, and James had been looking ninety years of age
at Oxford earlier in the day. James supposed he had got away with it. But how
the hell could he tell the others at the Monday meeting that the final plan
would be to outwit not Harvey Metcalfe, but his father-in-law?

“Shall we go through for dinner?”

Harvey did not wait for a reply. He marched
into the dining room.

“You just wait, young woman,” whispered
James fiercely. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

Anne kissed him gently on the cheek.

“You are the first person who’s given me the
chance to beat my father at anything. Can you forgive me
... ?
I love you...”

“Come on, you two. You’ll have time enough
for that when you’re married.”

Anne and James went through to join Harvey
for dinner. James was amused by the sight of the shrimp cocktail and remembered
how Stephen had regretted that touch at Harvey’s Magdalen dinner.

“Well, James, I understand you and Anne have
fixed the date for the wedding.”

“Yes, sir, if you approve.”

“Of course I approve. I was hoping Anne
would marry Prince Charles after winning the King George and Elizabeth Stakes,
but an earl will do for my only daughter.”

They both laughed, neither of them thinking
it was remotely funny.

“I wish you could have come to Wimbledon
this year, Rosalie. Imagine, there on Ladies Day and the only company I have is
a boring old Swiss banker.”

Anne looked at James and grinned.

The waiters cleared the table and wheeled in
a trolley bearing a crown of lamb in immaculate cutlet frills, which Harvey
studied with great interest.

“Still, it was kind of you to ring me at
Monte Carlo, dear. I really thought I was going to die, you know. James, you
wouldn’t have believed it. They removed from my stomach a gallstone the size of
a baseball Thank God it was done by one of the greatest surgeons in the world.
Wiley Barker saved my life.”

Harvey promptly undid his shut and revealed
to James a four-inch scar across his vast stomach. “What do you think of that,
James?”

“Remarkable.”

“Daddy, really.
We’re having dinner.”

“Stop fussing, honey. It won’t be the first
time James has seen a man’s stomach.”

It’s not the first time I have seen that
one, thought James.

Harvey pushed his shirt back into his
trousers and continued.

“Anyway, it was really kind of you to phone
me.” He leant over and patted her hand. “I was a good boy too. I did just what
you told me and kept on that nice Doctor Barker for another week in case any
complications arose. Mind you, the price these doctors...”

James dropped his wineglass. The claret
covered the tablecloth with a red stain.

“I am so sorry.”

“You all right, James?”

“Yes, sir.”

James looked at Anne in silent outrage.
Harvey was quite unperturbed.

“Bring a fresh tablecloth and some more wine
for Lord Brigsley.”

The waiter poured a new glass and James
decided it was his turn to have a little fun. Anne had been laughing at him for
three months. Why shouldn’t he tease her a little, if Harvey gave him the
chance? Harvey chatted on.

“You a racing man, James?”

“Yes, sir, and I was delighted by your
victory in the King George VI and Queen Elizabeth Stakes for more reasons than
you realise.”