Be Careful What You Wish For

15

‘GOOD MORNING, Mr Morita. What a pleasure to meet you,’ said Cedric, giving a smart nod.

‘And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Hardcastle,’ he ventured, returning the compliment. ‘May I introduce my managing director, Mr Ueyama?’ He in turn stepped forward and bowed respectfully. Cedric nodded again. ‘And my private secretary, Mr Ono,’ who bowed even lower, but, once again, Cedric only gave a curt nod.

‘Please have a seat, Mr Morita,’ said Cedric, and then waited for his guest to sit down before he took his place behind his desk. ‘I hope you had a pleasant flight?’

‘Yes, thank you. I was able to catch a few hours’ sleep between Hong Kong and London, and it was most considerate of you to send a car and your personal assistant to meet us at the airport.’

‘My pleasure. And is your hotel comfortable?’

‘Very satisfactory, thank you, and most convenient for the City.’

‘I’m delighted to hear that. So, shall we get down to business?’

‘No, no, no!’ said Sebastian, jumping up. ‘No Japanese gentleman would consider discussing business until he has been offered tea. In Tokyo, the tea ceremony would be conducted by a geisha and can last for thirty minutes or more, depending on how senior you are. Of course, he may turn the offer down, but he will still expect you to make it.’

‘I forgot,’ said Cedric. ‘A foolish mistake and I won’t make it on the day. Thank heavens you’ll be there to rescue me if I do.’

‘But I won’t be able to,’ said Sebastian. ‘I’ll be sitting at the back of the room with Mr Ono. We’ll be making notes of your conversation, and neither of us would ever consider interrupting our masters.’

‘So when am I allowed to talk to him about business?’

‘Not until Mr Morita has taken the first sip of his second cup of tea.’

‘But during the pre-business chat, should I mention my wife and family?’

‘Not unless he raises the subject first. He’s been married to Yoshiko for eleven years, and she occasionally accompanies him on his trips abroad.’

‘Do they have any children?’

‘He has three young children: two sons, Hideo, aged six, and Masao, four, and a daughter, Naoko, who’s only two.’

‘Am I allowed to tell him that my son is a barrister and has recently become a QC?’

‘Only if he raises the subject of his own children first, which is most unlikely.’

‘I understand,’ said Cedric. ‘Or at least I think I do. Do you think the chairmen of the other banks will be taking this much trouble?’

‘They’d better be, if they want the contract as much as you do.’

‘I’m very grateful, Seb. So how’s your Japanese coming along?’

‘It was going well until I made a complete fool of myself and tried to pick up the professor’s wife.’

Cedric couldn’t stop laughing when Sebastian gave him a blow-by-blow account of what had happened the previous evening. ‘Soaked, you say?’

‘To the skin. I don’t know what it is with me and women, because I don’t seem to have the same pulling power as the other lads in the bank.’

‘I’ll tell you about the other lads,’ said Cedric. ‘Once they’ve got a couple of pints in them, they’d have you believe they give James Bond lessons. And I can tell you, with most of them, it’s all talk.’

‘Did you have the same problem when you were my age?’

‘Certainly not,’ said Cedric. ‘But then I met Beryl when I was six, and I haven’t looked at another woman since.’

‘Six?’ said Sebastian. ‘You’re worse than my mother. She fell for my dad when she was ten, and after that the poor man never had a chance.’

‘Neither did I,’ admitted Cedric. ‘You see, Beryl was the milk monitor at Huddersfield primary, and if I wanted an extra third of a pint . . . bossy little thing. Still is, come to think of it. But I’ve never wanted anyone else.’

‘And you’ve never even looked at another woman?’

‘Looked, yes, but that’s as far as it goes. If you’ve struck gold, why go in search of brass?’

Sebastian smiled. ‘So how will I know when I’ve struck gold?’

‘You’ll know, my boy. Believe me, you’ll know.’

Sebastian spent the last two weeks before Mr Morita’s plane was due to touch down at London Airport attending every lecture Professor Marsh had on offer, never once so much as glancing back at his wife. In the evening, he returned to his uncle Giles’s home in Smith Square, and after a light supper, when he abandoned his knife and fork in favour of chopsticks, he would return to his room, read, listen to tapes and regularly bow in front of a full-length mirror.

The night before the curtain was due to go up, he felt he was ready. Well, half ready.

Giles was becoming accustomed to Sebastian bowing every morning when he entered the breakfast room.

‘And you must acknowledge me with a nod, otherwise I can’t sit down,’ said Sebastian.

‘I’m beginning to enjoy this,’ said Giles, as Gwyneth walked in to join them. ‘Good morning, my darling,’ he said, as both men rose from their places.

‘There’s a smart Daimler parked outside the front door,’ said Gwyneth, taking a seat opposite Giles.

‘Yes, it’s taking me to London Airport to pick up Mr Morita.’

‘Ah, of course, today’s the big day.’

‘That’s for sure,’ said Sebastian. He drained his orange juice, jumped up, ran out into the corridor and took one more look in the mirror.

‘I like the shirt,’ said Gwyneth, buttering a piece of toast, ‘but the tie’s a little . . . old school. I think the blue silk one you wore at our wedding would be more appropriate.’

‘You’re right,’ said Sebastian, and immediately dashed upstairs and disappeared into his bedroom.

‘Good luck,’ said Giles as he came bounding back down the stairs.

‘Thank you,’ Sebastian shouted over his shoulder as he headed out of the house.

Mr Hardcastle’s chauffeur was standing by the back door of the Daimler.

‘I think I’ll join you in the front, Tom, as that’s where I’ll be sitting on the way back.’

‘Suit yourself,’ said Tom, climbing in behind the wheel.

‘Tell me,’ said Sebastian as the car turned right out of Smith Square and on to the Embankment, ‘when you were a young man—’

‘Steady on, my lad. I’m only thirty-four.’

‘Sorry. I’ll try again. When you were single, how many women did you, you know, before you were married?’

‘Fuck?’ said Tom.

Sebastian turned bright red, but managed, ‘Yes.’

‘Having trouble with the birds, are we?’

‘In a word, yes.’

‘Well, I’ve no intention of answering that question, m’lud, on account of the fact that it would undoubtedly incriminate me.’ Sebastian laughed. ‘But not as many as I’d have liked, and not as many as I told my mates I had.’

Sebastian laughed again. ‘And what’s married life like?’

‘Up and down like Tower Bridge. What’s brought all this on, Seb?’ asked Tom as they passed Earl’s Court. ‘Found someone you fancy, have you?’

‘If only. No, it’s just that I’m useless when it comes to women. I seem to blow it whenever I meet a girl I like. I somehow manage to send out all the wrong signals.’

‘Which isn’t that clever when you’ve got everythin’ goin’ for you, is it?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re a good-lookin’ lad, in a toffee-nosed sort of way, well-educated, talk proper, come from a good family, so what more do you want?’

‘But I’m penniless.’

‘Possibly. But you’ve got potential, and girls like potential. Always think they can harness it, turn it to their advantage. So believe me, you won’t have any problems in that department. Once you get goin’, you’ll never look back.’

‘You’re wasted, Tom, you should have been a philosopher.’

‘None of your cheek, lad. It’s not me what’s got a place booked at Cambridge. ’Cause I tell you what, given half a chance, I’d swap places with you.’

A thought that had never crossed Sebastian’s mind.

‘Mind you, I’m not complainin’. Got a good job, Mr Hardcastle’s a diamond, and Linda’s all right. But if I’d had your start in life, I wouldn’t be a chauffeur, that’s for sure.’

‘What would you be?’

‘I’d own a fleet of cars, by now, and you’d be callin’ me sir.’

Sebastian suddenly felt guilty. He took so much for granted, never giving a thought to what was going on in other people’s lives, or how privileged they might think he was. He remained silent for the rest of the journey, having been made painfully aware that birth is life’s first lottery ticket.

Tom broke the silence as he turned off the Great West Road. ‘Is it right we’re picking up three Nips?’

‘Behave yourself, Tom. We’re picking up three Japanese gentlemen.’

‘Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothin’ against the little yellow bastards. Stands to reason doesn’t it, they only went to war ’cause they were told to.’

‘You’re a historian as well,’ said Sebastian as the car came to a halt outside the airport terminal. ‘Have the back door open and the engine running when you next see me, Tom, because these three gentlemen are very important to Mr Hardcastle.’

‘I’ll be right ’ere, standin’ to attention,’ said Tom. ‘Even practised my bow, ’aven’t I?’

‘Very low, in your case,’ said Sebastian, grinning.

Although the arrivals board showed that the aircraft was on time, Sebastian was an hour early. He bought a lukewarm coffee from a small, overcrowded café, picked up a copy of the Daily Mail, and read about two monkeys the Americans had sent into space that had just returned safely to Earth. He went to the lavatory, twice, checked his tie in the mirror, three times – Gwyneth had been right – and walked up and down the concourse countless times rehearsing ‘Good morning, Mr Morita, welcome to England’, in Japanese, followed by a low bow.

‘Japan Airlines flight number 1027 from Tokyo has just landed,’ announced a prim voice over the loudspeaker.

Sebastian immediately selected a place outside the arrivals gate from where he would have a good view of the passengers as they came out of customs. What he hadn’t anticipated was that there would be a large number of Japanese businessmen disembarking from flight 1027, and he had no idea what Mr Morita or his colleagues looked like.

Every time three passengers came through the gate together, he immediately stepped forward, bowed low and introduced himself. He managed to get it right the fourth time, but he had become so flustered that he delivered his little speech in English.

‘Good morning, Mr Morita, welcome to England,’ he said before bowing low. ‘I am Mr Hardcastle’s personal assistant, and I have a car waiting to take you to the Savoy.’

‘Thank you,’ said Mr Morita, immediately revealing that his English was far superior to Sebastian’s Japanese. ‘It was most considerate of Mr Hardcastle to go to so much trouble.’

As Morita made no attempt to introduce his two colleagues, Sebastian immediately led them out of the terminal. He was relieved to find Tom standing to attention by the open back door of the car.

‘Good morning, sir,’ said Tom, bowing low, but Mr Morita and his colleagues climbed into the car without acknowledging him.

Sebastian jumped into the front seat, and the car joined the slow-moving traffic into London. He remained silent during the journey to the Savoy, while Mr Morita chatted quietly to his colleagues in their native tongue. Forty minutes later, the Daimler came to a halt outside the hotel. Three porters rushed to the back of the car and began unloading the luggage.

When Mr Morita stepped out on to the pavement, Sebastian bowed low. ‘I will return at eleven thirty, sir,’ he said in English, ‘so that you will be in time for your meeting with Mr Hardcastle at twelve o’clock.’

Mr Morita managed a nod as the manager of the hotel stepped forward and said, ‘Welcome back to the Savoy, Morita San.’ He bowed low.

Sebastian didn’t get back into the car until Mr Morita had disappeared through the hotel’s revolving doors. ‘We need to get back to the office, and as quickly as possible.’

‘But my instructions are to stay put,’ said Tom, not budging, ‘in case Mr Morita needs to use the car.’

‘I don’t give a damn what your instructions were,’ said Sebastian. ‘We’re going back to the office, and right now, so step on it.’

‘On your head be it,’ said Tom, before shooting down the wrong side of the road and out on to the Strand.

Twenty-two minutes later, they drew up outside Farthings. ‘Turn the car round and keep the engine running,’ said Sebastian. ‘I’ll be back as quickly as I can.’ He leapt out of the car, ran into the building, headed for the nearest lift and, on arriving on the fifth floor, charged down the corridor and marched into the chairman’s office without knocking. Adrian Sloane turned round, and made no attempt to hide his disapproval at having his meeting with the chairman interrupted so abruptly.

‘I thought I gave you instructions to remain at the Savoy,’ said Cedric.

‘Something’s come up, chairman, and I’ve only got a few minutes to brief you.’

Sloane looked even less pleased when Hardcastle asked him to leave them and to come back in a few minutes. ‘So what’s the problem?’ he asked Sebastian once the door was closed.

‘Mr Morita has an appointment with the Westminster Bank at three this afternoon, and another with Barclays at ten tomorrow morning. He and his advisers are concerned that Farthings hasn’t done many company loans before, and you’ll have to convince them that you’re capable of handling such a large deal. And by the way, they know everything about you, including the fact that you left school at fifteen.’

‘So he can read English,’ said Cedric. ‘But how did you come across the rest of the information, because I can’t believe they volunteered it.’

‘They didn’t. But then, they have no idea that I speak Japanese.’

‘Let’s keep it that way,’ said Cedric. ‘It might come in useful later. But for now, you’d better get back to the Savoy, and sharpish.’

‘One more thing,’ said Sebastian as he headed towards the door. ‘It’s not the first time Mr Morita has stayed at the Savoy. In fact, the hotel manager greeted him as if he was a regular guest. And I’ve just remembered, they’re hoping to get three tickets for My Fair Lady, but they’ve been told it’s sold out.’

The chairman picked up the phone and said, ‘Find out which theatre My Fair Lady is playing at, and get the box office on the line.’

Sebastian ran out of the room and down the corridor, willing the lift to be on the top floor. It wasn’t, and it seemed to take forever to return. When it finally appeared, it stopped at every floor on the way down. He ran out of the building, jumped into the car, checked his watch and said, ‘We’ve got twenty-six minutes to be back at the Savoy.’

Sebastian could never remember the traffic moving so slowly. Every light seemed to turn red just as they approached it. And why were the zebra crossings so packed with pedestrians at this time in the morning?

Tom turned into Savoy Place at twenty-seven minutes past eleven, to face a fleet of stationary limousines disgorging their passengers outside the hotel. Sebastian couldn’t afford to wait, so, with Professor Marsh’s words ringing in his ears, The Japanese are never late for a meeting and consider it an insult if you fail to be on time, he jumped out and began running down the street towards the hotel.

Why didn’t I use the hotel phone, he was asking himself long before he’d reached the front entrance. But it was too late to worry about that. He ran past the doorman, and pushed through the revolving doors propelling a lady out on to the street far more quickly than she had intended.

He looked up at the foyer clock: 11.29. He walked quickly across to the lifts, checked his tie in the mirror and took a deep breath. The clock struck twice, the lift doors opened and out stepped Mr Morita and his two colleagues. He graced Sebastian with a smile, but then, he assumed the young man had been standing there for the past hour.