Almost a Crime (69 page)

what was left for a top for Saturday.

Maybe she could sell something. She looked through her

jewellery; there was a necklace, left her by her grandmother, an elaborate thing on a gold chain, an opal spider

crawling after a ruby fly. She hated it; maybe she could sell

that. No one would ever know.

She went into a shop whose sign read, ‘Antique and

modern jewellery. Turn your unwanted trinkets into cash.’

She went in, offered them her necklace. The man said

he’d take it off her hands for fifteen pounds.

‘Fifteen pounds?’ said Zoe. ‘That’s outrageous. It’s real

gold. Those are real rubies.’

‘Yes, but totally unfashionable. I’d be doing you a real

favour at that price. I mean — frankly, it is interesting, but

it’s not pretty. Spiders and that. Tell you what, I’ll make it twenty.’

‘No, you won’t,’ said Zoe. Even in her panic and misery,

she wasn’t prepared to sell for that. She took it home again,

and threw it into her jewellery box. It really was the end of

the line. Unless of course she asked her mother. And

maybe, just maybe, if her A-level results — due at the end of

this week — were good, she’d agree …

It was not like Nico Cadogan to be nervous; his supreme

self-confidence, so much part of his charm, was virtually

unshakeable. But a few people could at least cause it to

tremble a little. His dentist was one; his ex-housemaster at

his prep school, who had bullied him mercilessly, another.

His ex-wife was certainly of their number.

‘Good Lord,’ he said now, and nearly dropped the

telephone. ‘Portia, my dear. How are you?’

‘Perfectly well, Nico, thank you. And you?’

‘Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.’

‘I wondered if we could meet,’ she said. ‘To discuss

something.’

‘Yes, of course. Is it something important?’

‘Quite important. Certainly for you.’

‘Well, no time like the present. Tea?’

‘No, I’m afraid I can’t possibly manage anything until

Monday. Monday morning, about eleven, would suit me.’

‘Well, I’m not sure. I’ll have to check—’

‘I know what that means, Nico. I’ll come to your office.

Good afternoon to you.’ She rang off.

Nico sat staring at the telephone. ‘What on earth could

that be about?’ he said.

‘Aubrey, there is a God,’ said Tom. He had just walked into Aubrey’s office and sat down heavily. ‘The Drapers have come back. Just like that.’

‘Good God!’

‘Yes. They’ve bought some poor sod out, some other

provincial newspaper chain or other, and they need help.’

‘How extraordinary. Are you sure? They’re not just

talking?’

‘No. I have to go and see them next week, it’s all fixed,

with a contract. Incredible.’ He paused and grinned. ‘All we

need now is Oliver Nichols, and we’re high and dry. God!

Should I ring Nichols, do you think, while the fates seem to

be on our side? I think I will. I feel bullish for the first time

in weeks.’

‘Up to you, old chap.’

‘I think I will,’ said Tom and dialled Oliver Nichols’

number.

He wasn’t in his office: ‘He’s gone out to meet someone,

Mr Fleming. But I can get him on his mobile, if it’s

important.’

‘Oh, don’t do that,’ said Tom. ‘It can wait.’

‘He did say if anyone phoned, I could call him. He

doesn’t usually leave the office at this time.’

‘Well, if it’s really okay …’

Five minutes later, she called back. Oliver Nichols was at

the Connaught, in the American Bar. He said why didn’t

Tom go down and join him. He had a few more points

he’d like to run past him.

‘He said I could give you his mobile number, Mr

Fleming, you can call him yourself’

That was good: that was very good. Someone who

wasn’t even yet a client, giving you their mobile number.

Tom felt the great surging wave of ease that had been lifting him all afternoon gather speed, hurl him further forward

still.

He dialled Nichols’ number; he could hear the hum of

the bar in the background.

‘Oh, Tom, hi. Yes, do come on round if you like. I’ve

got - oh, sorry, got to go. Been ticked off by the oberfuhrer here. Switching right off now, sir. See you in a bit, Tom.’

As Tom walked into the American Bar, amused as always

that even on so brilliant a summer day, the management

should see fit to set their clients down in a book-lined,

winter-dark library, complete with paintings of rather odd

looking dogs, he saw Oliver Nichols sitting in the furthest

corner, on the sofa next to the bar. He was with Lauren

Bartlett.

‘Gin and tonic, Mum! At this time of day. What is this new

man doing to you?’ Zoe grinned at her, pulled a can of

Coke out of the fridge.

‘What new man?’ said Marianne. ‘And it isn’t gin and

tonic. It’s mineral water.’ She tried hard not to sound

defensive.

‘Mum! We’re not that stupid. Of course there’s a new

man. You look great, it’s nice. Much better for you than

Felix. Nice watch! Present?’

‘Well - yes. As a matter of fact.’

‘Tiffany,’ said Zoe to Romilly, tapping the side of her

nose. ‘Rich, that’s good.’

‘Not specially,’ said Marianne. ‘Just generous.’

‘Uh-huh. Nice, isn’t it, Rom?’

‘Very nice,’ said Romilly politely.

She looked pale, Marianne thought; a flash of alarm went

through her. Maybe she was ill, maybe she shouldn’t go …

‘Romilly, darling, are you all right?’

‘I am absolutely fine,’ said Romilly. ‘I wish everyone

would stop treating me like an invalid. I feel extremely

well.’

‘Nervous still? About the session on Saturday?’

‘I’m not nervous,’ she said, ‘not in the least. Alix

Stefanidis said he was very pleased with the early shots. Ritz

phoned to tell me.’

‘Good. Well, now I want to talk to you about the

weekend.’

‘Oh, yeah? Off with him? Where you going this time?

Paris? Venice?’

‘No, we’re going to Glasgow.’

‘Glasgow? Oh, please! The man clearly has no soul,’ said

Zoe.

‘Glasgow is a very beautiful city,’ said Marianne. ‘You’d

love it - it’s full of Charles Rennie Mackintosh.’

‘Yeah? Maybe I should come too. I’d like that. Okay,

Mum, only joking.’

‘You’d be very welcome,’ said Marianne briskly.

‘Yeah, right. No thanks. Never did like being a

gooseberry. But yes, if that’s your thing.’

‘Only if I know you are both all right.’

‘Oh, God,’ said Zoe, ‘this again. Rom, when are you

leaving kindergarten, moving up to Form One? I’m taking

my exam to my prep next week.’

‘Zoe, darling, please. I just want to know you’re going to

be all right.’

‘I’ll be partying, I hope. Results tomorrow, you know.

God, you’re a bad mother. You’d forgotten all about them,

hadn’t you?’

‘Oh, Zoe. How awful, I’m so sorry, darling, when will

you—’

‘We’re going to meet about midday. With Lucy and so

on. Then we’ll hit the town. You won’t see me for a long

time. Whatever they’re like.’

‘But you will let me know?’

‘Mum, of course I’ll let you know. Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Romilly, darling, what about you?’

‘Oh, I’ll be with Fenella. She’s specially asked me this

weekend, her granny’s coming to stay. Really wild.’

‘At least I won’t have to worry about you. So you’re both quite happy about it?’

‘Yes, of course we are,’ said Zoe. ‘Want to tell us about

the new boyfriend now?’

‘Only that he’s very nice and I think you’ll like him,’ said

Marianne, smiling at them, feeling herself relax.

‘Tom, come and sit down.’ Oliver Nichols beamed.

‘Drink? We’re on dry martinis, they make the best in

London here. I’m not usually out at this time, but Lauren

and I had a little tryst, only don’t ever tell my rather strict

secretary. It’s Jodie’s birthday next week and I needed some

help with her present. It’s the big four-o, so it had to be

good. Lauren took me to Tiffany’s.’ He indicated the bag

on the seat next to him. ‘Gold heart on a chain, you might

have seen them. Very pretty indeed.’

Tom looked at it, at that bag, in that unmistakable

turquoise colour, caught a glimpse of the box inside, the

same colour, tied up with white ribbon, and was transported

with hideous, heart-churning accuracy and speed

back to the night at the hotel, when he had told Louise

finally that the affair was over. He had given her that gold

heart on that chain, in that selfsame box, tied in that selfsame

ribbon, and set into that selfsame bag; he looked at it,

and he could see her lovely face, hear her small cries of joy,

as she pulled it out of the box, watched her putting it on

her long, slender neck, felt her kisses as she thanked him,

smelt her perfume again, and then, God, the next vision,

Louise, naked except for the heart, lying, holding out her

arms to him on the bed, her beautiful, responsive body

wonderfully, sweetly ready for him; and then finally, Christ,

her face swollen with tears, ugly now, her voice wailing,

dreadful with grief, telling him she couldn’t bear it, she

wouldn’t bear it, that he must—

‘Tom? You all right, my dear chap?’

‘Oh — yes. Sorry.’ Tom managed to smile. He felt very

dizzy, almost faint. ‘Had a bit of a day, no lunch.’

‘Maybe you’d better not have a martini, then,’ said

Lauren briskly. ‘Michael, could we have some mineral

water, please?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ said Tom, managing to smile at her. ‘I want

my martini. And some of those crisps will help.’

‘Just the same, you must drink the water first. Here. Now

are you sure you’re all right?’

‘I’m absolutely sure. Yes. Thanks. So sorry. Very pretty,

those hearts. Your wife will be thrilled.’

‘Bloody well better be. Yes, you do look better. Doesn’t

he, Lauren?’

‘He looks wonderful,’ said Lauren, smiling, her eyes

moving over his face, down his body, ‘as always. Lovely

suit, Tom.’

‘Thanks. Little Paul Smith number,’ said Tom lightly.

‘God, I wish Drew would get himself some decent

clothes. He’d wear suits from Marks and Spencer if he had

his way.’

‘He always looks perfectly smart to me,’ said Tom, ‘and

banking maybe isn’t quite the place for Paul Smith.’

‘Of course it is. When you’re the chairman, surely you can wear what you like.’

‘Maybe,’ said Oliver Nichols. ‘Look, Lauren, I don’t

want to keep you, I’m sure you’re busy. I have a few details

to go over with Tom, so …’

‘I’m not busy at all,’ said Lauren, crossing one long

brown leg over the other and smiling at them. ‘My children

are out with the nanny, my husband is in Munich, I would

be sitting twiddling my thumbs at home if it wasn’t for you

two. So may I stay? I’ll be very good and I won’t interrupt.

I love business talk. It’s so sexy.’

Oliver Nichols looked at her and grinned; then he

turned to Tom. ‘She might be disappointed, but let’s try.

Now look, I like your proposals very much. Your fees are

high, but they’re comparable with other firms, the top ones,

that is, I checked them out. I liked your partner. Just two

straight questions. One is that I feel we might have a clash

of interests with Axfords and—’

‘No clash of interest,’ said Tom bluntly. ‘They’ve resigned their account.’

Nichols’ eyes on him were probing, very direct. ‘Why

was that?’

‘We had just reached the end of the line.’

‘I see. That leads me to the second question. I had heard,

and from your father-in-law in particular, that your

company had been in trouble. Was in trouble. Can you

give me your absolute assurance that that is not so?’

Tom sipped his martini; he suddenly felt quite different,

very steady, very confident.

‘My absolute assurance, yes,’ he said. ‘We’ve signed a

new account today, a big one, we have a new injection of

capital and I’m very happy to give you bankers’ references.

And I would never, ever, allow anyone to sign up with us,

if I wasn’t totally confident that we had the substructure to

support them.’

Slightly less steady then; a few more crisps might help.

He was aware Lauren was watching him, had anticipated his

need, had passed him not only the crisps but a bowl of

cheese biscuits as well. She said nothing, just smiled a quick,

almost distant smile. He felt a slug of gratitude to her. She

was being great.

There was a silence. Then Nichols said, ‘Fine. Well,

that’s all. I really would like to work with you. I go further.

I look forward to working with you. Maybe we could get

together early next week, dot the i’s, cross the t’s and so

on.’

‘Yes,’ said Tom, ‘yes, that’d be great. Excellent.’ He held

out his hand, and Nichols took it. ‘Thanks, Oliver. Thanks

very much.’

‘Thank you,’ said Oliver Nichols, ‘and now I really must

go. Lauren, darling, thank you again. I’ll let you know what

Jodie says. I wanted to give her a party, but she says she has

to hide away, now she’s so old, so I’m taking her to Paris

for a couple of days instead. Not the best time, of course,