Clifton Chronicles 01 - Only Time Will Tell (25 page)

Over a dinner of game soup, succulent lamb and green beans, followed by crème brûlée, the conversation ranged from the Prince of Wales’s visit to Cardiff and his less than helpful remarks about sympathizing with the mine workers, to Lloyd George’s latest import tariffs and the effect they would have on the shipping industry, and George Bernard Shaw’s
Heartbreak House
, which had recently opened to mixed reviews at the Old Vic Theatre, before returning to the Prince of Wales and the vexed question of how to find him a suitable wife.

When the servants had cleared the table after dessert, the ladies retired to the drawing room to enjoy coffee, while the butler offered the gentlemen brandy or port.

‘Shipped by me and imported by you,’ said Sir Walter, raising a glass to Lord Harvey while the butler circled the table offering cigars to the guests. Once Lord Harvey’s Romeo y Julieta had been lit to his satisfaction, he turned to his son-in-law and said, ‘Your father tells me that some blighter broke into your office and stole a large amount of cash.’

‘Yes, that’s correct,’ Hugo replied. ‘But I’m pleased to say they’ve caught the thief. Sadly he turned out to be one of our stevedores.’

‘Is that right, Danvers?’ asked Sir Walter. ‘You’ve caught the man?’

‘I did hear something about it,’ responded the chief constable, ‘but I wasn’t told that anybody had been charged yet.’

‘Why not?’ demanded Lord Harvey.

‘Because the man is saying that I
gave
him the money,’ Hugo interjected. ‘In fact, when the detective inspector questioned me this morning, I began to wonder which one of us was the criminal, and which the injured party.’

‘I’m sorry to hear you feel that way,’ said Colonel Danvers. ‘May I ask who the officer in charge of the investigation was?’

‘Detective Inspector Blakemore,’ said Hugo, before adding, ‘I got the impression he might have a grudge against our family.’

‘When you employ as many people as we do,’ said Sir Walter, placing his glass back on the table, ‘there’s bound to be the odd person who bears a grudge.’

‘I must admit,’ said Danvers, ‘that Blakemore’s not known for his tact. But I’ll look into the matter, and if I feel he’s overstepped the mark I’ll assign someone else to the case.’

22

S
CHOOLDAYS ARE THE
happiest days of your life, claimed R.C. Sherriff, but that had not been Hugo Barrington’s experience. Although he had a feeling that Giles would, as his father put it, ‘make a better fist of things’.

Hugo tried to forget what had happened on his first day at school, some twenty-four years ago. He’d been driven to St Bede’s in a hansom carriage, accompanied by his father, mother and elder brother Nicholas, who had just been appointed school captain. Hugo had burst into tears when another new bug had innocently asked, ‘Is it true your grandfather was a docker?’ Sir Walter was proud his father had ‘pulled himself up by his bootstraps’, but with eight-year-olds, first impressions stick. ‘Grandpa was a docker! Grandpa was a docker! Cry baby! Cry baby!’ chanted the rest of the dorm.

Today his son Giles would be driven to St Bede’s in Sir Walter Barrington’s Rolls-Royce. Hugo had wanted to take his son to school in his own car, but his father wouldn’t hear of it. ‘Three generations of Barringtons have been educated at St Bede’s and Eton. My heir must arrive in style.’

Hugo didn’t point out to his father that Giles hadn’t, as yet, been offered a place at Eton, and that it was even possible the boy might have ideas of his own as to where he would like to be educated. ‘Heaven forbid,’ he could hear his father saying. ‘Ideas smack of rebellion and rebellions must be put down.’

Giles hadn’t spoken since they’d left the house, although his mother hadn’t stopped fussing over her only son for the past hour. Emma had started to sob when she was told she couldn’t accompany them, while Grace – another girl; he wouldn’t bother to try again – just clung on to Nanny’s hand and waved from the top step as they drove away.

Hugo had other things than the family’s female line on his mind as the car manoeuvred its way slowly through the country lanes towards the city. Was he about to see Harry Clifton for the first time? Would he recognize him as the other son he’d wanted but would never have, or would he be left in no doubt the moment he saw the boy that he couldn’t be his kinsman?

Hugo would have to be careful to avoid Clifton’s mother. Would he even recognize her? He’d recently discovered that she was working as a waitress in the Palm Court room at the Royal Hotel, which he used to frequent whenever he had business meetings in the city. Now he would have to confine himself to the occasional visit in the evening, and then only if he was certain she’d left for the day.

Maisie’s brother, Stan Tancock, had been released from prison after serving eighteen months of his three-year sentence. Hugo never did find out what had happened to Detective Inspector Blakemore but he never saw the man again following his father’s dinner party. A young detective sergeant gave evidence at Tancock’s trial, and he clearly wasn’t in any doubt who the guilty party was.

Once Tancock was safely behind bars, speculation about what had happened to Arthur Clifton quickly dried up. In a business where death is commonplace, Arthur Clifton became just another statistic. However, when Lady Harvey launched the
Maple Leaf
six months later, Hugo couldn’t help thinking that
Davy Jones’s Locker
would have been a more appropriate name for the vessel.

When the final figures were presented to the board, Barrington’s ended up showing a loss of £13,712 on the project. Hugo didn’t suggest that they tender for any more shipbuilding contracts in the future, and Sir Walter never referred to the subject again. In the years that followed, Barrington’s returned to its traditional business as a shipping line, and continued to go from strength to strength.

After Stan had been carted off to the local prison, Hugo had assumed that would be the last he heard of him. But shortly before Tancock was due to be released, the deputy governor of HMP Bristol rang Miss Potts and asked for an appointment. When they met, the deputy governor pleaded with Barrington to give Tancock his old job back, otherwise he would have little hope of ever being employed again. At first, Hugo was delighted to hear this piece of news, but after giving the matter some thought, changed his mind and dispatched Phil Haskins, his chief ganger, to visit Tancock in prison and tell him he could have his job back on one condition: he was never to mention the name of Arthur Clifton again. If he did, he could collect his cards and look for work elsewhere. Tancock had accepted the offer gratefully, and as the years passed it became clear that he had kept his side of the bargain.

The Rolls-Royce drew up outside the front gate of St Bede’s and the chauffeur leapt out to open the back door. Several pairs of eyes turned to look in their direction, some with admiration, others with envy.

Giles clearly didn’t enjoy the attention and quickly walked away, disowning the chauffeur as well as his parents. His mother chased after him, bent down and pulled his socks up, before giving his fingernails one last inspection. Hugo spent his time looking into the faces of countless children, wondering if he would instantly recognize someone he’d never seen before.

And then he saw a boy walking up the hill, unaccompanied by a mother or father. He looked past the boy to see a woman watching him, a woman he could never forget. Both of them must have been wondering if he had one son or two reporting for their first day at St Bede’s.

When Giles caught chicken pox and had to spend a few days in the sanatorium, his father realized this might be his chance to prove that Harry Clifton wasn’t his son. He didn’t tell Elizabeth he was going to visit Giles while he was in the san, as he didn’t want her around when he asked Matron a seemingly innocuous question.

Once he’d dealt with the morning post, Hugo told Miss Potts that he would be popping into St Bede’s to see his son and she shouldn’t expect him back for at least a couple of hours. He drove into the city and parked outside Frobisher House. He remembered only too well where the san was, as he’d had to visit it regularly when he was at St Bede’s.

Giles was sitting up in bed having his temperature taken when his father strode into the room. The boy’s face lit up the moment he saw him.

Matron was standing by the bed, checking her patient’s temperature. ‘Down to ninety-nine. We’ll have you back in time for the first lesson on Monday morning, young man,’ she declared as she shook the thermometer. ‘I’ll leave you now, Mr Barrington, so you can spend a little time with your son.’

‘Thank you, Matron,’ said Hugo. ‘I wonder if I might have a word with you before I leave?’

‘Of course, Mr Barrington. You’ll find me in my office.’

‘You don’t look too bad to me, Giles,’ said Hugo once Matron had left the room.

‘I’m fine, Papa. In fact, I was rather hoping Matron would let me out on Saturday morning so I can play football.’

‘I’ll have a word with her before I go.’

‘Thank you, Papa.’

‘So, how’s the work coming along?’

‘Not bad,’ said Giles. ‘But that’s only because I share a study with the two brightest boys in my class.’

‘And who are they?’ asked his father, dreading the reply.

‘There’s Deakins, he’s the cleverest boy in the school. In fact, the other boys won’t even talk to him because they think he’s a swot. But my best friend is Harry Clifton. He’s very clever too, but not as clever as Deakins. You’ve probably heard him singing in the choir. I know you’ll like him.’

‘But isn’t Clifton the son of a stevedore?’ Hugo said.

‘Yes, and just like Grandpa he doesn’t hide the fact. But how did you know that, Papa?’

‘I think Clifton used to work for the company,’ Hugo said, immediately regretting his words.

‘It must have been before your time, Papa,’ said Giles, ‘because his father was killed in the war.’

‘Who told you that?’ said Hugo.

‘Harry’s mother. She’s a waitress at the Royal Hotel. We went to tea there on his birthday.’

Hugo would have liked to have asked when Clifton’s birthday was, but feared it might be one question too many. Instead, he said, ‘Your mother sends her love. I think she and Emma plan to visit you later this week.’

‘Yuk. That’s all I need,’ said Giles. ‘Chicken pox and a visit from my dreadful sister.’

‘She’s not that bad,’ said his father, laughing.

‘She’s worse,’ said Giles. ‘And Grace doesn’t look as if she’s going to be any better. Do they have to come on holiday with us, Papa?’

‘Yes, of course they do.’

‘I was wondering if Harry Clifton could join us in Tuscany this summer. He’s never been abroad.’

‘No,’ said Hugo a little too firmly. ‘Holidays are strictly for the family, not to be shared with strangers.’

‘But he’s not a stranger,’ said Giles. ‘He’s my best friend.’

‘No,’ Hugo repeated, ‘and that’s an end of the matter.’ Giles looked disappointed. ‘So what would you like for your birthday, my boy?’ Hugo asked, quickly changing the subject.

‘The latest radio,’ said Giles without hesitation. ‘It’s called a Roberts Reliable.’

‘Are you allowed to have radios at school?’

‘Yes,’ said Giles, ‘but you can only play them at weekends. If you’re caught listening after lights out or during the week, they get confiscated.’

‘I’ll see what I can do. Will you be coming home on your birthday?’

‘Yes, but only for tea. I have to be back at school in time for prep.’

Then I’ll try and drop in,’ said Hugo. I’ll be off now. I want a word with Matron before I leave.’

‘Don’t forget to ask her if she’ll let me out on Saturday morning,’ Giles reminded him as his father left the room to carry out the real purpose of his visit.

‘I’m so glad you were able to drop by, Mr Barrington. It will perk Giles up no end,’ said Matron as he walked into her office. ‘But as you can see, he’s almost fully recovered.’

‘Yes, and he’s hoping you’ll let him out on Saturday morning so he can play in a football match.’

‘I’m sure that will be possible,’ said Matron. ‘But you said there was something else you wanted to talk about?’

‘Yes, Matron. As you know, Giles is colour-blind. I just wanted to ask if it was causing him any difficulties.’

‘Not that I’m aware of,’ said Matron. ‘If it is, it certainly doesn’t stop him hitting a red ball across a green field until it reaches a white boundary.’

Barrington laughed before he delivered his next well-prepared line. ‘When I was at St Bede’s, I used to be teased because I was the only boy who suffered from colour-blindness.’

‘Let me assure you,’ said Matron, ‘no one teases Giles. And in any case, his best friend is also colour-blind.’