The Legacy (24 page)

‘No thanks, Molly's got friends coming for dinner, so I'd better get home. You could join us if you're free; she loves having you to dinner, says you make everyone laugh. Irritates me, rather.'

‘How sweet of her,' Cunningham said, ‘but I'm busy, wining and dining an old friend who's over from Spain. Gorgeous lady—American, widowed and very rich. In fact, I rather hope she'll take
me
out! Give my love to Molly.'

‘I will,' Hubert promised. ‘Enjoy yourself, John. But about that case … don't be too sure you'll win; I know I'm going to. Night!'

Harry had chosen a small French restaurant near Holland Park. It was simple, even basic, but the food was famous. Christina found herself thinking of Richard; he had always loved provincial French cooking and he would have appreciated this. He was so much on her mind that evening, as if somehow he knew she needed him.

Harry's first question had been about the missing manuscript. Christina had said, ‘James took it, we were right about that. But he was held up at knifepoint and the mugger stole everything out of the safe in his flat, including the manuscript. So it's gone, Harry; it's probably been destroyed by now. No-one would know what it was, just scraps of old paper written in gibberish.'

And Harry had answered, ‘You sound relieved, Christa. Are you?'

‘Yes, it was never mine, or Richard's come to that. I couldn't have sold it and taken the money, not when I knew its history. So God or Fate, whatever, has solved that one.' She didn't mention Rolf Wallberg and to her surprise he didn't ask.

Harry ordered for her; he seemed determined to be light-hearted, as if he suspected that losing the chance of so much money to fight her lawsuit had really upset her and she wasn't admitting it. Her thoughts kept straying, from Richard to Wallberg, shying away from him in guilty panic, on to the prospect of taking Belinda to her new boarding-school.

Halfway through the evening, Harry said gently, ‘By the way, I've just heard I won the lottery …'

Christina said vaguely, ‘Sorry, what did you say?'

He sighed in mock exasperation. ‘I started by asking how Belinda was, but you weren't listening, so I said I'd won the lottery; you didn't hear that either. Where have you been all evening, Christa? Not with me, that's for sure.'

‘I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to be vague, Harry. It's been quite a traumatic day, and I
was
thinking about Belinda just then. She goes to St Mary's at the end of next week and I'm dreading it. I've never been separated from her before, and I'm so worried she'll miss me and be homesick after what's happened.'

‘She'll be fine,' he assured her. ‘Kids are much more resilient than we think. Poor old Mum was red-eyed for days after I'd gone to prep school … I never gave home a thought, I was so busy settling in. You're the one who's going to be miserable, and RussMore is a big old place to rattle around in. Where is St Mary's by the way? I'm not up on girls' schools.'

‘It's on the Essex-Suffolk border, about two hours' drive from home, and I can take her out on exeats and for a weekend. Richard said that all the Farrington girls went there.'

He said, ‘I expect Mum did too. She dropped the Catholic bit when she married Pop; he wasn't that keen on it, so we were brought up as Anglicans, whatever that means now. Can't say I worry about it. I'll ask Mum … and I've had a great idea!'

She smiled. ‘You're always having great ideas. What is it this time?'

‘Drop Belinda off at school and then drive up and spend a few days with us in Norfolk. We'd all love it, and Mum would keep you so busy you wouldn't have time to miss her. Come on, don't go back to RussMore on your own; you'll only sit and fret about Belinda and worry about this bloody case. Say yes. Say you'll come.'

‘I'd love to,' Christina admitted. ‘That really is a great idea, if it's all right with Jane. I just hate the idea of driving back to RussMore and not having her with me. A few days' break would be wonderful. When I get home I've got so much work to do with the probate application; Rolf Wallberg wants to come down and take depositions from the Mannings and the doctor about Richard's mental state when he changed his will. They won't win with the undue influence claim, but they'll push hard on every issue. God, Harry, sometimes I can't believe it's all happening!'

‘I'm not surprised,' he said. And then, almost as if he'd just thought of it, ‘What was the noble Swede's explanation for disappearing like that? Or didn't you ask him?'

‘No, once he told me the manuscript was gone it didn't seem to matter, and he was so upset about it, I had to convince him I didn't mind and it wasn't his fault. Harry, why do you call him that? The noble Swede?'

Harry grinned. ‘To make him look stupid. It's quite a neat trick. There was this big hulk who was after my dear wife, so I started rubbishing him and she couldn't meet him without laughing in his face. I should have made fun of my good friend and partner … Never mind, if it hadn't been him, there would have been somebody else; she'd got bored, you see.'

‘You don't have to rubbish Wallberg,' Christina suggested. ‘You've never even met him.'

‘No, but you've talked so much about him, Christa, saying you didn't like him, of course, and then saying it all over again. I was getting jealous.'

She laughed, ‘Don't be silly. Jealous of what?'

‘The noble Swede,' he retorted. ‘This mysterious stranger from the frozen north … Don't you know I'm madly in love with you? I always make fun of my rivals.'

‘You're impossible,' she said, ‘but you do make me laugh and you've been sweet to take me out this evening.'

He pulled a face, ‘You don't take me seriously, do you? You think I'm just acting the fool? Oh well, it's the story of my love life. My ex said she married me because I was so funny, then the jokes ran out. I'll get the bill. You look tired. And you're coming to stay; that's settled. No ringing up with excuses?'

‘No excuses. I'm looking forward to it.'

He drove her to the flat, got out and walked up the steps with her.

‘Good night, Harry,' she said gently.

‘I'll wait till you're inside,' he insisted. ‘Don't want some mugger leaping on you. Good night, Christa, see you in a week. I'll talk to you before, but there won't be any problem. Take care.'

It was the lightest brush on the cheek; affectionate, unthreatening. On an impulse, she kissed him back. The security lights went out as she opened the door, so she didn't see his face.

7

Ruben Stone put an arm round Wallberg's shoulders. ‘You don't have to stay on, my boy; your time with us is up, you know. Shouldn't you go back and take up your own practice?'

‘I told them a year,' Rolf answered. ‘They're not expecting me. In fact …' he glanced at Ruben, ‘I've been thinking about moving to England. Permanently.'

‘Have you?' Ruben's tone didn't alter. ‘That's quite a decision. Have you considered it carefully, or is this an impulse? You'd have to take English examinations. I can't offer you a place here, you know; there isn't room for a partner. You weren't expecting anything like that, I hope?'

‘No. I shall set up my own office if I do stay here,' was the reply. ‘What I would like is to see the Farrington case through to its end, I'm sure you won't object to that.'

‘I can't, can I, after all you've done—all the work you've done for us,' Ruben said quietly. ‘Which is what you're saying, isn't it?'

‘It's what I'm asking,' Wallberg answered. ‘I can't insist, of course, but I would like to stay.' The old man nodded. The avuncular manner didn't impress Rolf; there was a different status between them now.

‘That's no problem,' Ruben answered. ‘No problem at all. You'll learn a lot about our legal system, and it'll be very useful if you do decide to set up practice in England.' He sounded genuinely interested. ‘You'd have a good Swedish clientele to start with; there are a number of Swedish-owned companies who could use one of their own lawyers … Any business I could put your way, I'd be only too delighted.' The friendly arm slipped away in dismissal. ‘Now, let's get ready for war with Mr Farrington. This is one we have to win.'

He opened the door for Rolf. There was a moment when neither of them moved. Ruben looked into the wintry blue eyes and managed to hide his feelings. ‘I'm glad I can be a help,' he said.

‘I'm glad too. Thank you, Mr Stone.' Rolf went out and closed the door. When he had gone, Ruben Stone returned to his desk and sat down. An old proverb came to mind. ‘“He who sups with the devil …”' He murmured the ending out loud, ‘“needs a long spoon.” How true. How very true.'

‘Well,' Alan said roughly, ‘if you will live in a bloody awful place like New York, what can you expect?'

James's call had upset him. Mugged at knifepoint in his own apartment. Instinctively he saw James as the younger brother. When they were children, Alan had defended him at school. It was all right for him to bully James, but no-one else, nobody outside the family.

‘I'm all right,' James insisted. ‘It was just unnerving. There've been some gruesome sex murders on men … torture and mutilation.' He didn't mention that the victims were gay. Alan was his father's son; he wouldn't have admitted something or believed it if he didn't want to. He continued quickly, ‘Luckily I didn't challenge him and I didn't get hurt, but I'm going to move as soon as I find another place. Once you lose confidence in the security, you're never comfortable.'

‘Look, why not come over,' Alan suggested. He was shocked by what he had heard; it only confirmed his dislike of America and Americans. ‘You can stay with us if you like.'

James couldn't help it; he was moved by the sudden concern for him and the generous invitation. They were brothers, and Alan did really love him in his own way. James had never been able to resist him when he was kind.

‘I wouldn't want to put Fay out,' he said. She wouldn't want him staying. ‘But thanks, Alan, it's nice of you to offer. I might just take a trip over. I can book into a hotel; I'd like to see you. Any date set for the big day in court?'

‘I hope we'll get a listing some time next week. I'd like you to be there, James. Whatever happens you won't lose your legacy, so don't worry about that. When I win, I'll give you Langley.'

When I win.
James noted the certainty, the supreme confidence. Alan had always been like that, but this was something more, not just arrogance and bravado. His curiosity was like a nagging tooth. What did Alan know that made him so cast-iron sure of winning the case?

‘Yes, I'd like to be there too. We're family; we should stand together on this. I tell you what, Alan, when you get the date, let me know and I'll arrange to take a vacation; I'm due to go to Connecticut, but I'll come home instead.'

Alan said briskly, ‘If you had any sense you'd come home, period, but we'll talk about that. Soon as I hear I'll call you, and don't open the door to any strange men! See you.' Fay had come into the room while he was talking. ‘That was James,' he explained. ‘Some bloody mugger attacked him.'

‘How awful,' she said. ‘Was he hurt?'

‘No, luckily he didn't try being a hero.'

‘As if he would,' she retorted. If Alan was blind to his orientation, Fay was not. Suddenly she irritated him.

‘Don't be such a cow,' he said sharply. ‘He could have been killed. He's my brother, after all.'

Fay didn't back down. ‘As if I didn't know,' she snapped. ‘I've never liked him or trusted him and I'm not changing my mind because he gets mugged. You said he wasn't hurt, so what's the big deal?'

He knew her in this mood. She could be aggressive and combatant too and, in his way, he admired her for standing up to him. ‘No big deal,' he countered. ‘Just don't be a cow about it. I asked him to come over and stay.' He saw her pretty face harden angrily and he added, ‘But he wouldn't; he knows you don't like him. But he's coming for the case.'

Fay shrugged; she sensed a retreat and she was satisfied. ‘Well, that's all right then. Good. Are you going to get the car out or are we going to be late arguing about James?'

He scowled at her. ‘I'm going to get the car out,' he said, and slammed the door hard as he went out. Fay inspected herself in the mirror in the hallway; her hair looked good, make-up fine, and her new sapphire ear-rings glittered when she turned her head. Alan was so generous; she shouldn't have riled him, but she hated that mimsy creep and she would never trust him to be loyal.
He's my brother.
How often she'd heard that said in explanation, as if blood relationship conferred some special immunity from ordinary judgement. Alan needed him, that was the trouble. She and the children had filled the emotional void in his life, but there was still a gap, and James was needed to fill it. She heard a long impatient blast on the horn and went to the front door.

He leaned across and opened the car door for her. He wasn't a man who held doors for women or carried their cases; she wasn't a woman who expected him to—she was quite independent. The car moved away and she said, ‘I love my ear-rings. And I'll be nice to James, OK?' He nodded.

‘OK.' He visibly relaxed; he hated quarrelling with her. ‘It should be fun tonight,' he said. They were dining at Quaglino's with another couple; a rich successful couple in the despised Yuppie mode of the Eighties; their children were friends and went to the same smart school. She was bird-brained and giggled when Alan was rude to her, as if he was flirting; he rather liked her because she was a good foil to Fay. He liked the husband who had made even more money out of property management than Alan had out of fast food. They'd eat well, drink the best, and soon get down to talking business while their wives chattered about children and domestic trivia. He glanced at her; the ear-rings did look good. Blue was her colour and sapphires were her stones; he might think about getting her a brooch to go with the ear-rings for Christmas. And to celebrate winning the lawsuit …