This Was A Man (45 page)

Giles was dashing out of the chamber to keep an appointment when he saw Archie Fenwick standing outside his office. He didn’t slow down.

‘If it’s about the government’s proposed grain subsidies, Archie, could you make an appointment? I’m already late for the chief whip.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ said Archie. ‘I came down from Scotland this morning in the hope you might have time to discuss a personal matter.’ Code for Freddie.

‘Of course,’ said Giles, who continued on into his office and said to his secretary, ‘Make sure I’m not disturbed while I’m with Lord Fenwick.’ He closed the
door behind him. ‘Can I get you a whisky, Archie? I even have your own label,’ he said, holding up a bottle of Glen Fenwick. ‘Freddie gave me a case at Christmas.’

‘No, thank you. Although you won’t be surprised that it’s Freddie I’ve come to talk to you about,’ said Archie, sitting down on the other side of the desk.
‘But remembering how busy you are, I’ll try not to take too much of your time.’

‘If you had wanted to discuss the problems facing the Scottish agricultural industry, I can spare you five minutes. If it concerns Freddie, take your time.’

‘Thank you. But I’ll get straight to the point. Freddie’s headmaster called me yesterday evening to say the boy failed his common entrance exam to Fettes.’

‘But when I read his most recent end-of-term report, I even wondered if he might win a scholarship.’

‘So did the headmaster,’ said Archie, ‘which is why he called for his papers. It quickly became clear he’d made no effort to pass.’

‘But why? Fettes is one of the best schools in Scotland.’

‘In Scotland may be the answer to your question,’ said Archie, ‘because he sat a similar exam for Westminster a week later, and came out in the top half dozen.’

‘I don’t think we need to call on the assistance of Freud to fathom that one out,’ said Giles. ‘So all I need to know is whether he wants to be a day boy or a
boarder.’

‘He put a cross in the box marked day boy.’

‘It’s a long way for him to commute to Fenwick Hall and back every day, and as Westminster is a stone’s throw from our front door, I think he might have been trying to tell us
something.’ Archie nodded. ‘In any case, he’s already selected his bedroom,’ Giles added as the phone on his desk began to ring.

He grabbed it and listened for a moment before he said, ‘Sorry, chief, something came up, but I’ll be with you in a moment.’ He put the phone down and said, ‘Why
don’t you join Karin and me for dinner in Smith Square this evening, and we can thrash out the details.’

‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ said Archie.

‘It’s me who should be thanking you.’ Giles stood up and headed for the door. ‘It’s the only piece of good news I’ve had all day. I’ll see you around
eight.’

‘Any hope of discussing the government’s proposed grain subsidy at some time?’ Archie asked, but Giles didn’t reply as he quickly left the office.

‘What’s Cunard’s spot price this morning?’ asked Seb.

‘Four pounds twelve. Up two pence on yesterday,’ replied John Ashley.

‘That’s good news all round.’

‘Do you think your mother ever regrets selling Barrington’s?’

‘Daily. But luckily she’s so overworked at the Department of Health that she doesn’t have much time to think about it.’

‘And Giles?’

‘I know he’s extremely grateful for the way you’ve handled the family portfolio, because it allows him to pursue his first love.’

‘Battling against your mother?’

‘Something like that.’

‘What about your aunt Grace?’

‘She thinks you’re a vulgar capitalist, or at least that’s how she describes me, so I can’t believe she’d consider you any better.’

‘But I’ve made her a multi-millionaire,’ protested Ashley.

‘Indeed you have, but that won’t stop her marking her pupils’ homework tonight while nibbling on a cheese sandwich. But on her behalf, John, well done. Is there anything else
we need to discuss?’

‘Yes, I’m sorry to say there is, chairman, and I’m not quite sure how to handle it.’ Ashley opened a file marked private and shuffled through some papers. Seb was
surprised to see that a man who’d played front row for the Harlequins, and never hesitated to face any member of the board head on, was now clearly embarrassed.

‘Spit it out, John.’

‘A Miss Candice Lombardo has recently opened an account with the bank, and her guarantor is the deputy chairman.’

‘So that’s her name,’ said Seb.

‘You know her?’

‘Let’s just say I’ve come across her. So what’s the problem?’

‘She withdrew five thousand pounds yesterday, without having a penny in her account, to purchase a mink coat from Harrods.’

‘Why did you clear the cheque?’

‘Because Victor has guaranteed her overdraft and I don’t have the authority to put a stop on it without consulting him.’

‘Cedric Hardcastle will be turning in his grave,’ said Seb, looking up at the portrait of the bank’s founding chairman. ‘He used to be fond of saying never say never,
unless you’re asked to sign a personal guarantee.’

‘Should I have a word with Victor?’

Seb leant back and thought about the suggestion for a few moments. Hakim had managed to convince Victor to remain on the board, and even take up the post of deputy chairman, so the last thing
Seb needed was to give him any reason to change his mind.

‘Do nothing,’ he eventually said. ‘But keep me briefed if Miss Lombardo presents any more cheques.’

Ashley nodded, but didn’t make a note in his file.

‘I thought you’d also want to know,’ he continued, ‘that your daughter’s account is overdrawn by £104.60. Not a large amount, I know, but you did ask me to
brief you, following—’

‘I did indeed,’ said Seb. ‘But to be fair, John, I’ve just paid her a thousand pounds for seven of her drawings.’

Ashley opened a second file and checked another bank statement. ‘She hasn’t presented that cheque, chairman. In fact, her only recent deposit was for two hundred and fifty pounds
from a Richard Langley.’

‘The name doesn’t mean anything to me,’ said Seb. ‘But keep me informed.’ Ashley frowned. ‘What does that look mean?’

‘Just that on balance, I’d prefer to deal with the chairman of Cunard than your daughter.’

T
HE FOUR OF THEM
sat in the drawing room looking distinctly uncomfortable.

‘It’s so nice to meet you at last,’ said Samantha, pouring Richard a cup of tea.

‘You too, Mrs Clifton,’ said the young man who sat nervously opposite her.

‘How did you two meet?’ asked Seb.

‘We bumped into each other at the Slade Founder’s Prize exhibition,’ said Jessica.

‘I go to all the college art shows,’ said Richard, ‘in the hope of spotting a new talent before they’re snapped up by a West End dealer, when I’ll no longer be able
to afford them.’

‘How very sensible,’ said Samantha, as she offered her guest a cucumber sandwich.

‘Picked up anything worthwhile recently?’ asked Sebastian.

‘A coup,’ said Richard, ‘a veritable coup. A set of remarkable line drawings by an unknown artist, entitled
The Seven Ages of Woman
, that won the Founder’s
Prize. I couldn’t believe my luck when I heard the price.’

‘Forgive me for mentioning it,’ said Seb, ‘but I’m surprised you can afford a thousand pounds on a teacher’s salary.’

‘I didn’t pay a thousand pounds, sir, just two hundred and fifty. And I only just had enough left in my account to take the artist out to supper.’

‘But I thought—’ Seb didn’t complete the sentence when he noticed Samantha glaring at him and his daughter looking embarrassed. He decided to change tack.
‘I’d be willing to offer you a couple of thousand for those drawings. Then you can take the artist out for supper regularly.’

‘They’re not for sale,’ said Richard, ‘and they never will be.’

‘Three thousand?’

‘No, thank you, sir.’

‘Perhaps you’d consider a deal, Richard. If you were ever to give up my daughter, you’d sell the drawings back to me for two thousand pounds.’

‘Sebastian!’ said Samantha sharply. ‘Richard is Jessica’s friend, not a client, and in any case it’s outside banking hours.’

‘Not a hope, sir,’ said Richard. ‘I don’t intend to part with either your daughter or the drawings.’

‘You can’t win them all, Pops,’ said Jessica with a grin.

‘But if Jessie were to give you up,’ said Seb, as if he was chasing a million-pound deal, ‘would you reconsider then?’

‘Forget it, Pops. That’s not going to happen. You’ve lost the drawings, and you’re about to lose your daughter, because I’m planning to move in with Richard,’
she said, taking his hand.

Sebastian was about to suggest that perhaps . . . when Samantha jumped in.

‘That’s wonderful news. Where will you be living?’

‘I have a flat in Peckham,’ said Richard, ‘quite near where I work.’

‘But we’re looking for something bigger,’ said Jessica.

‘To rent, or buy?’ asked Seb. ‘Because in current market conditions, I would recommend—’

‘I would recommend,’ said Samantha, ‘that they should be allowed to make up their own minds.’

‘Much more sensible to buy,’ said Seb, ignoring his wife, ‘and with my two thousand, you’d have enough to put down a deposit.’

‘Just ignore him,’ said Samantha.

‘I always do,’ said Jessica, standing up. ‘Must dash, Pops, we’re off to the ICA to see an exhibition of ceramics Richard thinks looks promising.’

‘And can still afford,’ added Richard. ‘But if you do have two thousand to invest, sir, I would recommend—’

Samantha laughed, but Richard looked as if he was already regretting his words.

‘Bye, Pops,’ said Jessica. She bent down, kissed her father on the forehead and slipped an envelope into his inside pocket, hoping Richard wouldn’t notice.

Richard thrust out his hand and said, ‘Goodbye, sir. It was nice to meet you.’

‘Goodbye, Richard. I hope you enjoy the exhibition.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Richard as Samantha accompanied them both to the door.

While Seb waited for her to return, he took the envelope out of his pocket, opened it and extracted his own cheque for a thousand pounds. First time he’d ever been outbid by the
underbidder.

‘I think I could have handled that better,’ suggested Seb when Samantha returned to the drawing room.

‘That’s an understatement, even by British standards. But I’m more interested in what you thought of Richard.’

‘Nice enough chap. But no one will ever be good enough for Jessie.’ He paused for a moment before adding, ‘I’ve been wondering what to give her for her twenty-first.
Perhaps I ought to buy her a house?’

‘That’s the last thing you’re going to do.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it will simply remind Richard that he’s penniless and will only make him feel beholden to you. In any case, Jessica is every bit as stubborn as you are. She’d turn the
offer down, just as she did your two thousand.’

Seb handed Samantha the cheque, which only made her laugh even louder, before suggesting, ‘Perhaps we should allow them to lead their own lives. We might even be surprised how well they
get on without us.’

‘But I only meant—’

‘I know what you meant, my darling, but I’m afraid your daughter trumped you,’ she said as the phone began to ring.

‘Ah, I have a feeling that will be Richard wanting to know if I’d be willing to raise my offer to four thousand.’

‘More likely to be your mother. I told her we were meeting Jessica’s new boyfriend for the first time, so she’s bound to want to know what we think.’ She picked up the
phone.

‘Good evening, Mrs Clifton. It’s John Ashley.’

‘Hello, John. Has the bank burnt down?’

‘Not yet, but I do need a word with Seb fairly urgently.’

‘The bank’s burnt down,’ said Samantha, handing the phone to her husband.

‘You wish. John, what can I do for you?’

‘Sorry to bother you this late, chairman, but you asked me to alert you if Miss Lombardo presented any more large cheques.’

‘How much this time?’

‘Forty-two thousand.’

‘Forty-two thousand pounds?’ Seb repeated. ‘Hold up the payment for now, and if Victor doesn’t turn up tomorrow, I’ll have to speak to our legal team. And, John, go
home. As my wife keeps reminding me, it’s outside banking hours, so there’s nothing more you can do about it tonight.’

‘A problem, my darling?’ asked Samantha, sounding genuinely concerned.

‘Yes, I’m afraid so. Do you remember that woman we saw dining with Victor at the Caprice?’ he said, picking the phone back up and beginning to dial.

‘How could I possibly forget?’

‘Well, I think she’s taking him to the cleaners.’

‘Are you calling Victor?’

‘No, Arnold Hardcastle.’

‘That bad?’

‘That bad.’