In the taxi on the way back to Lowndes Square, Hugo wondered how long it would be before Olga discovered that her diamonds were missing. Sooner than he’d bargained for, because when they opened the front door, they found the whole place had been ransacked. All that was left on the walls where the paintings had once hung were clear outlines to show what size they had been.
While Olga broke down in hysterics, Hugo picked up the phone and dialled 999. It took the police several hours to complete an inventory of everything that was missing, because Olga couldn’t remain calm enough to answer their questions for more than a few moments at a time. The chief inspector in charge of the case assured them that the details of the stolen items would be circulated to all the leading diamond merchants and art dealers in London within forty-eight hours.
Hugo hit the roof when he caught up with Toby Dunstable in Fulham the following afternoon. His old school chum calmly took it on the chin like a heavyweight boxer. When Hugo was finally spent, Toby pushed a shoebox across the table.
‘I don’t need a new pair of shoes,’ Hugo snapped.
‘Perhaps not, but you’ll be able to buy a shoe shop with what’s inside there,’ he said tapping the box.
Hugo lifted the lid and stared into the box, which contained no shoes, but was packed with five-pound notes.
‘You needn’t bother to count them,’ said Toby. ‘You’ll find there’s ten thousand pounds in readies.’
Hugo smiled, suddenly calm again. ‘You’re a good fellow,’ he said as he placed the lid back and ordered another two double gin-and-tonics.
As the weeks passed, and the police failed to come up with any suspects, the chief inspector didn’t leave Hugo in much doubt that he thought it was an inside job, an expression he used again and again whenever they met. However, Toby reassured him that they would never consider arresting the son of Sir Walter Barrington, unless they had cast-iron proof of his guilt that would convince a jury beyond reasonable doubt.
Olga asked Hugo where his new suits had come from and how he could possibly afford a Bugatti. He showed her the car’s logbook, which confirmed that he’d owned it before they met. What he didn’t tell her was how fortunate he’d been that the dealer he’d reluctantly sold it to still had it on his books.
As the end of the period after which the decree absolute would be granted was fast approaching, Hugo began to prepare for what they call in military circles an exit strategy. That was when Olga announced that she had some wonderful news to share with him.
Wellington once told a junior officer that timing was everything in life, and who was Hugo to disagree with the victor of Waterloo, especially when the great man’s prophecy was about to apply to him?
He was reading The Times over breakfast, when he turned to the obituaries and saw a picture of his father staring out at him. He tried to read it without Olga discovering that both their lives were about to change.
In Hugo’s opinion, the Thunderer had given the old man a good send-off, but it was the last paragraph of his record that most interested him. Sir Walter Barrington is succeeded by his only surviving son, Hugo, who will inherit the title.
However, what The Times didn’t add was, and all that therein is.
MAISIE CLIFTON
1939–1942
25
MAISIE COULD STILL REMEMBER the pain she’d experienced when her husband didn’t come home at the end of his evening shift. She knew Arthur was dead, even though it would be years before her brother Stan was willing to tell her the truth about how her husband had died at the dockyard that afternoon.
But that pain was nothing compared to being told that her only son had been buried at sea after the Devonian had been struck by a German torpedo, hours after war had been declared.
Maisie could still recall the last time she’d seen Harry. He’d come to visit her at the Grand Hotel that Thursday morning. The restaurant was packed, with a long queue of customers waiting to be seated. He’d stood in line, but when he saw his mother bustling in and out of the kitchen without a moment to spare, he slipped away, assuming she hadn’t noticed him. He was always a thoughtful boy, and he knew she didn’t approve of being interrupted at work, and, if the truth be told, he also knew she wouldn’t have wanted to hear that he’d left Oxford to join the navy.
Sir Walter Barrington dropped by the next day to let Maisie know that Harry had sailed on the morning tide as fourth officer on the SS Devonian, and would be back within the month to join the crew of HMS Resolution as an ordinary seaman, as he intended to go off in search of German U-boats in the Atlantic. What he didn’t realize was that they were already searching for him.
Maisie planned to take the day off when Harry returned, but it was not to be. Knowing how many other mothers had lost their offspring because of this evil and barbaric war didn’t help.