By Royal Command (15 page)

‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ said James. ‘I don’t want any attention.’

‘I’m sure our readers would be greatly interested in what you had to say; it’s quite an exciting story.’

James looked around for some way of escape and caught sight of the thuggish-looking man with the swollen eyelids, von Schlick’s manservant. He was making his way slowly along the corridor.

James turned back to the young reporter. ‘It’s all been exaggerated,’ he said. ‘I’ve nothing to say.’

The thug was getting nearer.

‘Just a short quote?’

‘Talk to Miles,’ said James hotly, and he barged through the nearest door and slammed it loudly behind him. He waited there for a few seconds, watching the doorknob, until he was sure that neither the reporter nor the thug were going to follow him.

The room was in half darkness and James had assumed it was empty, but when he turned round he saw two people sitting next to each other on a sofa, lit by a dim table lamp. They were both staring at him.

He recognised one of them immediately: it was the Prince of Wales. How strange, to meet three members of the Royal Family in one week. His partner was an older woman with dark hair and a thin, clever face. They stood up politely and there was a slightly awkward moment.

‘I’m sorry,’ said James. ‘I didn’t think there was anyone in here.’ The room appeared to be a gentleman’s study.

‘Are you lost?’ said the woman, who was evidently an American. ‘Easy in a large house like this.’

‘I was looking…’ James was suddenly overcome with embarrassment about saying exactly what he had been looking for. Was it done to talk about these things in front of the heir to the throne?

‘I was looking for someone,’ he mumbled.

‘You’re that young chap Langton-Herring was talking about, aren’t you?’ said the Prince.

‘Yes, that’s right, sir.’

‘How do you do?’

James went over and shook Edward’s hand; the Prince then introduced the woman as Mrs Wallis Simpson.

‘It seems we’re both guests of honour here,’ said Edward. ‘I gather you helped Miles out in some way, did you?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Jolly good, yes. Well done. And you’re at Eton, as well, are you?’

‘That’s right, sir, I am.’

‘Yes, jolly good. Tremendous stuff.’

Edward seemed friendly enough, and genuinely seemed to enjoy chatting to James, but Mrs Simpson had sat down again and appeared to have no interest in him at all. James thought she was probably one of those adults who didn’t like children.

‘Jolly good school, Eton,’ Edward said, patting his pockets and then thrusting his hands deep into them as if not sure what to do with them.

‘Yes, sir, I like it enough.’

‘Between you and me –’ Edward leant towards James and gave him a wink – ‘and I shouldn’t really be telling you this, but my father, the King, is going to be visiting the college for the Fourth of June celebrations.’

‘Really, sir, I didn’t know.’

‘No, no. It’s, ah, not yet common knowledge. A bit of inside gen for you. I’m sure you can keep it under your hat. Us royals have always had very close ties with Eton.’

‘Yes. The fourth of June is a celebration of George the Third’s birthday,’ said James. ‘He was a great benefactor of the school.’

‘Yes.’

James realised he was babbling like an idiot, but he couldn’t stop himself.

‘So, King George is going to be visiting?’ he went on. ‘I mean our present King George, of course.’

‘Of course,’ said Edward. ‘It would be difficult for the old King to visit, as he’s… as he’s dead.’

‘Yes,’ said James, and he looked at Edward, not sure if he’d made a joke or not. Edward kept a straight face for a few seconds and then broke into a smile. James laughed.

‘They’re giving a lunch in his honour,’ Edward added.

‘Ah, I see.’

‘One has to beware of all these lunches in one’s honour,’ said Edward, staring out of the window. ‘They can be rather heavy. One needs to guard against putting on any weight. Difficult business.’

‘I can imagine it is, sir, yes.’

‘My father is always telling me to eat more,’ said Edward.

Mrs Simpson gave a snort of laughter from the sofa where she was reading a magazine. Edward was reminded of her presence.

‘Can I get you anything, dear?’ he asked.

Mrs Simpson threw down the magazine and stood up.

‘I was just leaving actually,’ she said. ‘This party’s an awful bore, but I suppose one must show one’s face.’ She smiled forcedly and went out of the room.

James felt very aware that it was just the two of them in the room now, and he didn’t know what to say. He took a deep breath and was just about to try to find a way to leave politely when there was a knock on the door and three men entered.

Two of them he had never seen before, but the third was Graf von Schlick.

He turned his awful, bland, unreadable face towards James and James felt a chill pass through him.

16

A Blunt Object

Powerful urges were battling each other inside James. On the one hand he wanted to get well away from the Graf, and on the other he wanted to stay and find out more about him. In the end the decision was made for him by the Prince who started to introduce James to the new arrivals.

The first two, Viscount Lymington and ‘Chips’ Channon, had heard Langton-Herring’s speech so at least knew who James was and they made a token effort to say something positive about him. Finally Edward introduced the Graf.

‘Von Schlick is from Austria,’ he explained unnecessarily as they shook hands. ‘Do you know the country?’

‘Only from my recent trip,’ said James. ‘With Miles, for the skiing,’ he added when the Prince looked blank.

‘Ah, yes, of course.’

‘I know Germany better,’ James continued. ‘We went there often when I was younger.’

‘A tremendous country, Germany, such a pity that we fell out with them,’ said the Prince.

‘Indeed,’ added ‘Chips’ Channon. ‘The Great War was in so many ways unnecessary.’

‘Yes,’ said James. ‘It was a shame.’

A shame?
What was he saying? The war was a hell of a lot worse than just a
shame
. It was a tragedy. A disaster. Millions of young men had died, and for what?

‘We must make sure it doesn’t happen again,’ said Viscount Lymington, a balding man with reptilian features.

‘Yes,’ said Edward. ‘It did terrible damage. But I am so glad that Germany is at last getting back on to its feet. This man, Hitler, is doing great work, I gather.’

‘I wouldn’t really know about that, sir,’ said James.

‘You’re too young,’ said Channon. ‘But take it from me, I have seen what he is about. He has industry working again, the people filled with hope for the future.’

‘It’s all rather exciting, really,’ said Edward. ‘England is falling apart around our ears and Germany is rising from the ashes with great vigour. I think we might want a dictator in England before long, if only to sort out the communists.’

The Prince gave a little chuckle then looked slightly self-conscious.

‘Now, you’d better run along, James,’ he mumbled. ‘I need to talk to these gentlemen.’

James said goodbye to Viscount Lymington and ‘Chips’ Channon, and finally shook hands once again with the Graf, who still wore a pair of thin white leather gloves.

The Graf whispered ‘Goodnight’, holding his throat, which had evidently been affected by the fire. ‘It was nice to meet you.’

‘Actually,’ said James, ‘we have met before.’

James saw a flicker of emotion in the man’s eyes. But it was impossible to read what it meant.

‘In the clinic,’ James explained. ‘In Austria.’

‘Ah,’ said von Schlick, the light dying in his eyes and the bland look returning.

‘I was there with Miles.’

‘Of course you were,’ hissed von Schlick.

James decided to press things further. He felt desperately uncomfortable in the man’s presence, but he needed some questions answering.

‘On the night before your operation, sir,’ he went on, ‘you were crying out in your room. You were obviously in some distress. I woke up and came in to see what the matter was.’

‘I do not remember,’ said the Graf bluntly.

But James was not going to be put off so easily. ‘You were shouting about how somebody wanted to kill your cousin, Jürgen ,’ he said. ‘It stuck in my mind. Is he all right? Your cousin, I mean? You seemed very worried.’

‘I must have been dreaming,’ the Graf whispered. ‘It is nonsense. I was heavily sedated.’

‘So, he is all right?’

‘I can assure you,’ said the Graf, more forcefully. ‘I do not have a cousin George.’

‘I’m sorry to have brought it up,’ said James. ‘At any rate, I’m glad the operation went so well.’

The ugly scarring and bruising on the back of the man’s head had settled down, but it was still a marked contrast to the smooth, almost too perfect face.

The Graf thanked James, who muttered some more hasty goodbyes and backed out of the room with some relief.

Later, sitting in the back of the taxi on his way back to Eton, James ran through the episode again in his head. Something had struck him as odd, and he wanted to remember what it was while the conversation was still fresh in his mind. It was something the Graf had said. Something not quite right, but James had been so flustered at the time that he hadn’t picked up on it. What was it?

Something about his cousin Jürgen ?

Yes, that was it.

The Graf had said that he didn’t have a cousin
George
.

Why had he used the English version of Jürgen , when James had used the German?

Maybe he was just humouring James by using the language of his hosts.

No matter how often James went over it in his head, he couldn’t make sense of it. He was finding it hard to think straight and concentrate on one thing. So much had happened tonight it was hard to take it all in. It had been a distinctly unreal experience.

There was solid proof that he hadn’t dreamt it all, however.

He pulled his sleeve back and looked at his new watch.

He didn’t feel that he deserved it, but it was very handsome nevertheless.

A few days later James was trudging back over Fifteen Arch Bridge after a particularly dull cricket match on Upper Club when Dandy pulled up alongside in his works lorry.

‘Are you busy, Bucko?’ he said, winding down the window.

‘Not particularly,’ said James. ‘I have a Latin construe to write, but it can wait.’

‘I could be doing with some company, if you fancy a little trip.’

James didn’t know what to make of Dandy. Behind his friendliness there was an unpredictability and a wildness about him, but he had readily helped James when he had spotted The Invisible Man in the woods at Windsor Park, so he might be a useful ally.

‘Why not?’ James climbed into the cab and settled down on the old, worn seat. The smell of the countryside mingled with oil and petrol fumes.

‘Where are we going?’ he asked as Dandy wrestled the lorry into gear and they rattled off up the road towards Slough.

‘I’ve to get some supplies,’ said Dandy. ‘I can do it meself, but it’ll be easier with two pairs of hands.’

‘What sort of supplies?’ James asked, watching the patterns the sunlight made filtering through the passing trees.

‘Oh, just stuff for the grounds,’ said Dandy. ‘Weed-killer, fertiliser, nothing very exciting, I’m afraid. It takes a lot of work and a lot of chemicals to get those cricket pitches looking as beautiful as they do. And I’ve to deliver a ton of cut flowers to the chapel for the Fourth of June. It’s a specially big event this year. So what have you been up to, then, since our adventures in the park? Seen any more spies?’

‘No.’ James laughed. ‘Do you not believe me?’

‘Oh, I believe you. Same as I believe in leprechauns and pots of gold at the end of every rainbow.’

James laughed again. ‘It does seem a little far-fetched, I suppose.’

He decided to change the subject.

‘Life has been all too normal lately,’ he said. ‘Though I did go to a big party on Saturday night.’

‘Lucky you.’

James told Dandy all about his night at the Langton-Herrings’ house and Dandy listened with amused interest.

‘Well, now,’ he said after a while. ‘You’ve certainly been seeing how the other half lives.’

‘I think you’re right.’

‘But does it seem fair to you, Jimmy, that your man Langton-Herring should have all that money, should have rooms full of fine food and champagne, when everyone else in the country is trying to scrape a living together right now?’

‘I don’t know,’ said James. ‘What’s the alternative? To just give it all away?’

‘That’s never going to happen,’ said Dandy. ‘Nobody’s ever going to give away their wealth off their own bat; sometimes you just have to take it.’

‘You sound dangerously like a communist,’ said James with a smile.

‘Maybe I am at that, Bucko,’ said Dandy. ‘But this country could do with a mighty kick up the backside.’

‘You think so?’

‘Ah, the French had it right.
Vive la révolution!
’

‘So what do you think we should do?’ said James. ‘Chop King George’s head off, or put him up against a wall and shoot him like the Tsar?’

Dandy smiled and nodded his head. ‘Maybe. Do you think anything’s ever going to change in this bloody country as long as you have a king?’

‘Does anything need to change?’ said James.

‘God, yes,’ said Dandy.

‘What about the little princesses we saw the other day?’ said James. ‘Would you behead them, too?’

‘You can’t think about the individual, Bucko. In the great scheme of things, the great sweep of history, two little girls don’t account for a great deal. You have to think about the bigger picture.’

‘I still don’t think it could ever be right,’ said James.

‘Sometimes you have to do the right thing for the wrong reasons,’ said Dandy. ‘Or do the wrong thing for the right reasons, if you catch my meaning.’

‘I’m not sure that I do,’ said James. He was intrigued and wanted to carry on the conversation, but Dandy fell quiet and didn’t say anything else until they arrived at their destination: a group of barns and ugly concrete sheds on the outskirts of Slough.

Dandy pulled in through the gates, parked the lorry in a yard and handed James a sheet of paper.

‘Here’s the order,’ he said. ‘I’ll go into the shed and pick up the supplies; you take that in and get it signed off. We don’t need to pay; the college deals with them direct. We just need to get the truck loaded up.’

James crossed the muddy yard to the office and went inside.

A man with a red drinker’s nose and watery eyes sat behind a counter reading the
Racing Post
and smoking a cigarette. James handed him the list and he gave it a once-over.

‘Fertiliser, weed-killer, sulphur powder, silver paint. It’s all there waiting to be picked up.’ He licked his lips, signed the list and stamped it, then he handed a receipt to James to sign.

‘So Eton’s getting the boys to do all the work now, I see?’

‘I’m just helping out a friend,’ said James.

‘Well, don’t go too near some of them sacks, son. It’s nasty stuff, a lot of it. That’s the thing with plants and flowers, if you want them to look lovely and fresh and colourful it seems you’ve got to cover them with all sorts of poisons and chemicals these days. Potassium chlorate, potassium permanganate, saltpetre, sulphur powder, I don’t know – ’spect you know all about that from your science classes but it’s not my idea of gardening. Still, it pays my keep, so I’m not complaining.’

James went out just as Dandy and another man were loading the last of the sacks on to the back of the lorry. He scrambled up into the cab and waited for Dandy, who appeared a minute later and started up the lorry.

‘There’s a lot of it,’ said James as they set off back to Eton.

‘There’s a lot of grounds at the school,’ said Dandy. ‘It owns half the land around here.’

‘I suppose once you’ve shot the King you’ll burn the school down,’ said James.

‘Maybe I will,’ said Dandy.

‘Well, I’m sure you’ll find plenty of boys willing to help.’

The two of them laughed, then Dandy turned to James with a serious look on his face.

‘You’re keen on our Roan, aren’t you, James?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Ah, don’t think I haven’t noticed, Bucko.’

‘Noticed what?’

‘I saw the way you were looking at her in the park, like a lovesick mooncalf.’

‘I wasn’t,’ James protested.

‘Weren’t you, now? Well, let me tell you something, James. You can’t be too careful around that one. She’s probably told you she’s a witch? Well, you’d better believe it. Watch out for her. Keep away from her. A girl can cause you a great deal more pain than a bullet.’

James bumped into Pritpal when he got back to Codrose’s. He had hardly seen anything of his two messmates since Bentinck had punished them over the bread incident. They seemed to be avoiding him and James took the opportunity to ask Pritpal about it.

‘We were looking forward to you coming back,’ said Pritpal sadly. ‘We thought you were going to be our saviour, our knight in shining armour, but instead you have only made things worse.’

‘That’s not fair,’ said James. ‘It isn’t my fault that Bentinck’s a damned sadist.’

‘You like trouble, James,’ said Pritpal. ‘You need excitement in your life, and danger, but we don’t. And now your love of danger is going to make life impossible for us.’

‘So you’re going to have nothing to do with me?’

Pritpal couldn’t look at him. He scratched his nose and stared at the floor.