19
‘WHAT MAKES YOU THINK Mr Hugo would be willing to help?’ asked Old Jack, leaning back in his seat. ‘He’s never shown any sign of caring about Harry in the past. On the contrary . . .’
‘Because if there’s one person on earth who ought to feel some responsibility for Harry’s future, it’s that man.’ Maisie immediately regretted her words.
Old Jack was silent for a moment before he asked, ‘Is there something you’re not telling me, Maisie?’
‘No,’ she replied, a little too quickly. She hated lying, especially to Old Jack, but she was determined that this was one secret she would take to her grave.
‘Have you given any thought to when and where you will confront Mr Hugo?’
‘I know exactly what I’m going to do. He rarely leaves his office before six in the evening, and by then most of the other staff in the building have already left for the night. I know his office is on the fifth floor, I know it’s the third door on the left. I know—’
‘But do you know about Miss Potts?’ interrupted Old Jack. ‘Even if you did manage to get past reception and somehow made it to the fifth floor unnoticed, there’s no way of avoiding her.’
‘Miss Potts? I’ve never heard of her.’
‘She’s been Mr Hugo’s private secretary for the past fifteen years. I can tell you from personal experience, you don’t need a guard dog if you’ve got Miss Potts as a secretary.’
‘Then I’ll just have to wait until she goes home.’
‘Miss Potts never goes home before the boss, and she’s always behind her desk thirty minutes before he arrives in the morning.’
‘But I’ll have even less chance of getting into the Manor House,’ said Maisie, ‘where they have a guard dog too. He’s called Jenkins.’
‘Then you’ll have to find a time and place when Mr Hugo will be on his own, can’t escape and can’t rely on Miss Potts or Jenkins to come to his rescue.’
‘Is there such a time and place?’ asked Maisie.
‘Oh yes,’ said Old Jack. ‘But you’ll have to get your timing right.’
Maisie waited until it was dark before she slipped out of Old Jack’s railway carriage. She tiptoed across the gravel path, eased open the back door, climbed in, and shut it behind her. Resigned to a long wait, she settled herself down on the comfortable leather seat. She had a clear view of the building through a side window. Maisie waited patiently for each light to go out. Old Jack had warned her that his would be among the last.
She used the time to go over the questions she planned to ask him. Questions she’d rehearsed for several days before trying them out on Old Jack that afternoon. He’d made several suggestions, which she’d happily agreed to.
Just after six, a Rolls-Royce drew up and parked outside the front of the building. A chauffeur got out and stationed himself alongside. A few moments later Sir Walter Barrington, the chairman of the company, marched out of the front door, climbed into the back of the car and was whisked away.
More and more lights went out, until finally only one was still aglow, like a single star on the top of a Christmas tree. Suddenly Maisie heard feet crunching across the gravel. She slipped off the seat and crouched down on the floor. She could hear two men, deep in conversation, heading towards her. Her plan didn’t include two men, and she was about to leap out of the other side and try to disappear into the night when they came to a halt.
‘. . . But despite that,’ said a voice she recognized, ‘I’d be obliged if my involvement could remain strictly between the two of us.’
‘Of course, sir, you can rely on me,’ said another voice she’d heard before, although she couldn’t remember where.
‘Let’s keep in touch, old fellow,’ said the first voice. ‘I have no doubt I’ll be calling on the bank’s services again.’
Maisie heard one set of footsteps moving away. She froze when the car door opened.
He got in, took his place behind the wheel and pulled the door closed. Doesn’t have a chauffeur, prefers to drive the Bugatti himself, fancies himself behind the wheel – all priceless pieces of information supplied by Old Jack.
He switched on the ignition and the vehicle shuddered into life. He revved the engine several times before crunching the gear lever into first. The man on the gate saluted as Mr Barrington drove out on to the main road and headed towards the city, just as he did every night, on his way back to the Manor House.
‘Don’t let him know you’re in the back until he’s reached the city centre,’ Old Jack had advised. ‘He won’t risk stopping there, because he’ll be afraid someone might see you together and recognize him. But once he reaches the outskirts of the city, he won’t hesitate to chuck you out. You’ll have ten to fifteen minutes at most.’
‘That’s all I’ll need,’ Maisie had told him.
Maisie waited until he’d driven past the cathedral and across College Green, which was always busy at that time of night. But just as she was about to sit up and tap him on the shoulder, the car began to slow down and then came to a halt. The door opened, he got out, the door closed. Maisie peered between the front seats and was horrified to see that he had parked outside the Royal Hotel.
A dozen thoughts flashed through her mind. Should she jump out before it was too late? Why was he visiting the Royal? Was it a coincidence that it was on her day off? How long did he plan to be there? She decided to stay put, fearing she would be spotted if she got out in such a public place. Besides, this could well be her last chance to confront him face to face before the bill had to be paid.
The answer to one of her questions turned out to be twenty minutes, but long before he got back into the driver’s seat and drove off, Maisie was in a cold sweat. She had no idea her heart could beat that fast. She waited until he had gone about half a mile before she sat up and tapped him on the shoulder.
He looked shocked as he turned round, which was followed by a look of recognition, and then realization. ‘What do you want?’ he demanded, recovering slightly.
‘I have a feeling you know exactly what I want,’ said Maisie. ‘My only interest is Harry, and making sure his school fees are paid for the next two years.’
‘Give me one good reason why I should pay your son’s school fees.’
‘Because he’s your son,’ Maisie replied calmly.
‘And what makes you so sure of that?’
‘I watched you when you first saw him at St Bede’s,’ said Maisie, ‘and every Sunday at St Mary’s when he sang in the choir. I saw the look in your eyes then, and I saw it again when you refused to shake hands with him on the first day of term.’
‘That’s not proof,’ said Barrington, sounding a little more confident. ‘It’s nothing more than a woman’s intuition.’
‘Then perhaps the time has come to let another woman know what you get up to on a works outing.’
‘What makes you think she’d believe you?’
‘Nothing more than a woman’s intuition,’ said Maisie. This silenced him, and gave her the confidence to continue. ‘Mrs Barrington might also be interested to know why you went to so much trouble to have my brother arrested the day after Arthur disappeared.’
‘A coincidence, nothing more.’
‘And is it also just a coincidence that my husband has never been seen since?’
‘I had nothing to do with Clifton’s death!’ shouted Barrington as he swerved across the road, narrowly missing an oncoming vehicle.
Maisie sat bolt upright, stunned by what she’d heard. ‘So it was you who was responsible for my husband’s death.’
‘You have no proof of that,’ he said defiantly.
‘I don’t need any more proof. But in spite of all the damage you’ve done to my family over the years, I’ll still give you an easy way out. You take care of Harry’s education while he’s still at Bristol Grammar School, and I won’t bother you again.’
It was some time before Barrington responded. He eventually said, ‘I’ll need a few days to work out the best way to handle the payments.’
‘The company’s charitable trust could easily take care of such a small amount,’ said Maisie. ‘After all, your father is chairman of the governors.’
This time he didn’t have a ready response. Was he wondering how she’d come across that piece of information? He wasn’t the first person to underestimate Old Jack. Maisie opened her handbag, pulled out the thin brown envelope and placed it on the seat beside him.
The car swung into an unlit alley. Barrington jumped out and opened the back door. Maisie stepped out, feeling that the confrontation couldn’t have gone much better. As her feet touched the ground, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her violently.
‘Now you listen to me, Maisie Clifton, and listen carefully,’ he said, a look of fury in his eyes. ‘If you ever threaten me again, I’ll not only see that your brother is sacked, but I’ll make sure he never works in this city again. And if you’re ever foolish enough to even hint to my wife that I’m that boy’s father, I’ll have you arrested, and it won’t be a prison you’ll end up in, but a mental asylum.’
He let go of her, clenched a fist and then punched her full in the face. She collapsed on to the ground and curled up into a ball, expecting him to kick her again and again. When nothing happened, she looked up to see him standing over her. He was tearing the thin brown envelope into little pieces and scattering them like confetti over a bride.
Without another word, he jumped back into the car and sped away.