Sleeping Cruelty

Chapter twelve

At nine William was served breakfast by Marta. He felt refreshed and alert, and ready to take control. He asked if Justin and Laura were still sleeping.

Marta looked surprised. ‘Goodness, no, they were up and out to the market at seven,’ she said. ‘They always like to buy their vegetables fresh from the vendors rather than the big supermarkets. They’ll have gone down to St Tropez to the fishmonger first.’

‘How long will they be?’

‘Maybe a couple more hours.’ She walked out, then paused in the doorway. ‘She is a child you know, sir. I blame Justin. He’s been so domineering all her life, she looks to him for everything.’

‘What about their parents?’ William asked.

‘They died when the children were small.’

‘Marta,’ he said sharply, ‘tell me more. I need to know.’

‘They are orphans. They were educated in England, and then they returned to France. This was their childhood home. Justin bought it a few years back.’

‘How long have you worked for them?’

‘Since they were in their teens.’

‘Have they always lived together?’

‘After England, I believe so. Money used to be very short at times, but Justin always found some way to provide. I think they’ve had difficult times, especially with Laura being the way she is...’

‘And what way is that?’ he asked not looking at her face.

‘I think you know, sir.’ He detected a tone of disapproval. ‘She was the reason I stayed, even when money was short. I love both of them as if they were my own.’

‘Educated in England?’ William mused. ‘Any idea where?’

Marta hesitated. ‘Their mother was French, their father English. Their father’s sister took care of them.’ The telephone rang, and Marta seemed relieved to escape. He was perplexed and wanted to ask her more about Laura but Marta returned to the room in a hurry. ‘It’s your secretary. He said it’s urgent.’

‘Charlie has been expelled from school,’ Michael stuttered. He had been accused of dealing in drugs. William called Katherine, his son’s mother. She took ten minutes to come to the phone. ‘William?’ It was his ex-wife’s nasal voice. ‘Where are you?’ When he told her she groaned. ‘I think you should make an effort to get here as soon as possible.’

‘Is he addicted?’ William asked.

‘He’s not spoken to me. His housemaster called and I went down. He got in with a bad crowd.’

‘Others have been expelled?’

‘No, they were local boys... I don’t really know. They found stuff in his room and his locker. He was caught in a seedy club and arrested.’

‘Jesus!’

‘I sent Daddy’s lawyer to get him bailed, and now I can’t find Charlie. I’ve called everyone I can think of. You’re his father, for God’s sake! Come and sort him out, and Sabrina too.’

‘Sabrina?’

‘Your daughter, in case you’ve forgotten. You have to go to her school parents’ day. I sent all the information to Michael. I can’t go and, as you’ve never been to one, I thought perhaps you should. I’ve not had time to think of anyone but Charlie. Cedric went into a frenzy.’

‘What the hell has your cousin got to do with it?’

‘He’s more of a father to Charlie than you ever were. I’d just like you to try and talk to Charlie. Our worry is the press’ll get hold of it. Anything linked to you seems to get us all on the front page.’

That was rich, coming from her, William thought. Katherine sold the story of her ‘terrible life’ with him to the press for a tidy sum. ‘I’ll get the next plane out,’ he said. ‘I’ll contact you as soon as I’m home. Leave Charlie’s address with Michael, if you trace him, and I’ll see Sabrina at the parents’ day thing. But—’ Before William could add that his ex-wife had never wanted him to be at any school social event in the past, she had hung up.

Justin charged down the stairs with William’s note. ‘The bloody idiot’s gone back to London,’ he shouted. ‘Marta!’

She appeared, drying her hands on a towel. ‘He got a call from his secretary and arranged to leave immediately. But he left most of his clothes here. I think he intends to come back.’

Justin read the note again, pacing up and down the hall.

‘It’ll be all right, Justin,’ Laura said, trying to soothe him.

‘What would you know about anything?’

‘Don’t speak to me like I’m stupid!’

Justin wheeled round and grabbed her arm. ‘Can’t you get this through your thick skull? We’ve lost the big fish. He’s off the hook. He’s backing out, Laura, everything we’ve planned has been a waste of time. My God! When I think of the time I’ve wasted on that buffoon.’

Laura ran upstairs and locked herself in her bedroom, trying to ignore the thuds, shouts and crashes from below. She tried to calm herself with the thought of the diamonds William had promised her. Her fascination for them had been sparked off when she was given her mother’s engagement ring. Now she took out the little Moroccan box in which she kept her collection. Each diamond was stored individually in a black velvet bag. In a notebook she had stuck cuttings from old De Beers diamond mine catalogues, which listed the carat, cut and cutter, and the estimated value of each stone. She liked to line up the diamonds on a piece of black velvet and knew every stone by touch alone. She liked their coldness and to watch them sparkle in the light. If she ever had to leave in a hurry all she would take with her were her darlings, the diamonds. Laura knew she was secure while she had them. No one knew about them, not even Justin. It was the only secret she had ever kept from him.

As Laura came out of her reverie, she realized that the house was quiet. She tiptoed to the door to listen, and could hear Justin crying. He was sitting hunched at the bottom of the stairs. Laura went to sit beside him and slipped an arm around his shoulder. ‘Well, that was short and sweet,’ she said softly.

He sniffed and wiped his face with the palm of his hand. ‘It’s just that I was so looking forward to it all, you know. I’ve been planning it for eighteen months, longer.’ Laura stroked her brother’s hair. ‘I wish I’d killed that bastard Matlock when I was a kid. They couldn’t have done much about it then,’ he said quietly.

‘You should sleep,’ she said, easing away from him.

Justin drew her back and held her tightly. ‘I can’t move right now. Don’t leave me.’

‘I’ll stay with you, always. Come on, now, let me take you to bed. You must sleep.’ She helped him stand, then took him into his own room. A single bed stood beneath the window and tucked into it was a ragged doll. He allowed her to turn back the covers, tuck him in and stay as he curled into a tight ball clutching the doll. She sang to him until he slept, then sat with him stroking his hair.

No one saw Justin like this but Laura and, once or twice, Marta had witnessed his regression into child-like fear. When Justin was like this, he lost his bravado, his energy, and his confidence in who he was. Sometimes he lay curled up for days before he found himself again. This time, though, he joined her in the garden that afternoon. ‘I’m being a ridiculous queen.’ He laughed. ‘I’ll phone him. Maybe it’s nothing to do with us. And even if it is we’ll get him back.’

‘Of course we will, my darling. You just needed to rest.’

He knelt down beside her. ‘Thank you for taking care of me,’ he whispered.

‘Thank you for taking care of me,’ she said, and they kissed and walked arm in arm back to the villa as they discussed their next plan of action.

William answered the phone personally, anxious for news of his son’s whereabouts. It was a while before he could piece together what Justin was saying.

‘I’m going to start sending out the invitations, William. They need to go out while the mags are showing the place off, and now that Meryl knows it’s your place, it’ll be all over the—’

William closed his eyes. ‘Justin, right now I can’t think about anything but my son. He’s in trouble.’

‘What’s the matter with him?’ Justin said impatiently.

William sighed. ‘Justin, Charlie is my son and right now I can’t think about entertaining a group of people in the Caribbean. Sometimes I really don’t understand your obsession.’

‘My obsession?’ Justin’s voice was strained. ‘Fuck you!’

‘Now don’t get like that—’

‘I am beginning to loathe the sound of your voice. I’ve been your friend, William, probably the best friend you ever had.’

The phone went dead, and almost immediately rang again. It was Katherine. ‘Panic over. He’s home,’ she said.

‘Thank God for that. Do you want me to come over and talk to him?’

‘Could you check out clinics and things? We should think about sending him somewhere where they know how to handle these things.’

‘Right, I’ll get on to it and be with you tomorrow.’

The long gravel drive crunched beneath the tyres as William’s car approached the large old manor house in Buckinghamshire. It had five acres of garden, a large paddock and a swimming-pool. As he drew up outside the front porch, two Labradors with muddy paws growled and padded off. William had never liked dogs.

His ex-wife was even paler than he remembered and age had not been kind to her. Her hair was tied back in a bun at the nape of her neck, and wisps of hair hung around her face. She was wearing a pink twinset, a tweed skirt and Gucci loafers. His emerald and diamond engagement ring was still on the third finger of her left hand.

‘He’s in the bath. He was filthy,’ Katherine said, pouring herself a large sherry and offering the bottle to William. He shook his head, and wondered why she was drinking so early in the day. ‘I can’t get any sense out of him.’ She paused. ‘You look odd. What on earth have you been doing to yourself? It’s your hair, you look awful. The Bellinghams have been on the phone,’ she went on. ‘They understand what I’m going through. Oliver was on some drug or other when he committed suicide. Lord B was saying that Ollie went to a rehab place in Cornwall. I asked him to talk to Charlie, give him all the grisly details, try to scare him into straightening out.’

‘I’ll pay,’ he said, with a resigned sigh.

‘Of course you will.’ She got up to refill her glass. ‘It’s already in the headlines. Have you seen it? “Terrible Tycoon’s son in drugs raid.” The press have been phoning here. Have they contacted you?’

‘No,’ he said warily.

‘He’s got to go before a magistrate. He was selling the stuff. No doubt the press will be in court.’

‘Probably,’ he said quietly. Then he asked, ‘Why did you talk to the papers, give them that load of bullshit about me?’

‘You deserved everything they threw at you!’ She turned on him, her thin lips set in a tight line. ‘I had them hanging round the house for days and it was the only way I could get rid of them. If you think I liked having my name, my children’s name, dragged through the gutter press then you’re very much mistaken.’ She was on a roll. ‘And if you think that this problem with Charlie isn’t anything to do with your shenanigans, then you’re wrong. It all stems from you and that wretched Maynard. Is it any wonder he’s gone off the rails?’ William didn’t rise to the bait. ‘I have never been so humiliated. I couldn’t even walk into the village. And it looks like you haven’t learned your lesson. You look like mutton dressed as lamb. That haircut!’

He felt his temper rising, but kept his mouth shut. ‘You were a laughing stock and we all had to pay for your antics. Then flaunting yourself with that lesbian! You have no idea what harm you caused my family.’

‘Katherine, you were paid handsomely for your contribution to my downfall. Lucky for you, I didn’t go right down. The business stayed firm so I was still around to pay your bills.’

‘Oh, yes!’ she screamed. ‘Money! That’s all you ever thought about. Money and sex.’

At that moment Charlie appeared, a half-smile on his lips. ‘Ah, happy families. I’d forgotten how it used to be!’

William watched the thin, pale-faced boy saunter into the room and sit on the arm of the settee, his skinny legs protruding from a towelling bathrobe. ‘Katherine, I’d like to talk to Charlie alone.’

She flounced out, slamming the door behind her.

Charlie dug into his pocket, took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, his hands shaking.

‘So you’ve cocked up,’ William said quietly. ‘You were caught selling drugs, you are to go before a magistrate and you could end up in prison.’

‘Doubt it. It was only a few tabs and I’m a first offender, under age and all that. They’ll let me off with a fine and a few months’ probation.’

His upper-class drawl grated on William. ‘What are you on?’

‘What am I on?’ Cigarette smoke drifted from his lips. ‘What are you offering?’

‘I’m your father. Show some respect, Charlie.’

‘That’s terrific coming from you, Pa. Any woofters slashed their wrists over you recently?’

William took a deep breath and held on to his temper. ‘I’ll pay for you to go to a rehab centre. If you don’t agree, then you get no money and neither will your mother nor your sister. I’ll force them to take me to court and I’ll drag the lot of you through the press.’

‘I don’t give a shit about your money.’

‘You’re throwing your life away if you give in to drugs. It’s stupid, and you are not stupid.’

Charlie patted his pocket for another cigarette.

‘So will you go to a clinic?’

‘Yep.’

For a brief moment William wanted to hug his son, but he couldn’t make the move. Charlie lit the cigarette with nicotine-stained fingers. He was close to tears but trying hard not to show it. As William moved to the door he said, ‘You were never around when we needed you, or when I needed you. But in some ways I understood it was Mother’s doing. She loathes you. Even at Christmas she hated it when you sent us presents. Sometimes she wouldn’t let us open them.’

William hadn’t expected this and he wasn’t sure how to handle it.

‘Oliver died. Did you know him?’ Charlie said suddenly. And started to cry. ‘He was my best friend.’ He wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand.

‘He was older than you, though, wasn’t he?’ William asked.

‘Yeah, but we sort of hit it off. In fact I got a letter from him after I was told he’d killed himself. It didn’t make any sense to me. I mean, he was arranging for us to go sailing together when he got back from the Caribbean and he had this girlfriend he was really keen on. I asked the Bellinghams about him at the memorial service, but they said it wasn’t the right place. Then when I went round to their place they didn’t want to talk about him. It’s like he never existed.’ He was looking down at his lap. ‘Do you know someone called Justin?’

‘Justin?’

‘Yes, Ollie said he’d met this fantastic guy out there, Justin Chalmers. In his letter he mentioned him, said I’d get on with him too.’

‘Yes, I know Justin very well.’

William sat down on the arm of the settee still wanting to put his arm around his forlorn son, but it hung limply at his side.

‘Ollie was really good about getting the other bastards off me when all that filth came out in the press. I had a really bad time. It just went on and on, especially with that chap Maynard being a pervert.’

‘Charlie, most of it was lies, you know.’

‘Then why didn’t you do something about it? Why didn’t you sue them?’

‘Whatever I did seemed to make it worse, so I buried my head in the sand. Reckoned if I kept quiet it would all go away, people would forget.’

‘They nicknamed you Willy Wanker at school. They used to pin up pictures of you and write things on them. I hated it — and I hated you more than you could believe. I used to pray you’d die, pray you weren’t my father.’

William stood up. ‘Charlie, I’ll make a deal with you. You really focus on getting straight, then come out to the Caribbean. Come and see the island. Get to know me. I have never stopped loving you — and you’re right, I should have kicked ass about those press articles. But at the time, I just didn’t have the...’ He tailed off. He was silent for a while, then said, ‘Sometimes, Charlie, we don’t always do the right thing. But I want your respect more than anything else in the world. I want you to be proud to say, “That’s my father.”’

Charlie stood up and went to the fireplace. He kicked at the grate, his shoulders hunched. ‘Okay, it’s a deal. Thanks.’

William went over to him, pulled him close and hugged him. ‘Got a lot of catching up to do, lot of straightening out, but we’ll do it.’

He could smell Pears soap on his son’s hair and neck and remembered that Katherine had always liked it. It took him back to when he had bathed his son as a baby. It was a clear, sweet memory, the feel of his son’s head beneath his hand. He cradled Charlie to his chest, and then did something he never had before. He cupped his son’s face between his hands and kissed him. ‘Everything will work out. We’ll do it together, all right? Let me back into your life, Charlie. Let me show you I love you.’

Charlie suddenly put his arms round William’s waist and held him tightly. Then he said, ‘I’d like to meet this Justin.’

William felt uneasy, he didn’t know why, but he smiled. ‘Yes, why not? He’s made a good job of rebuilding my villa on the island.’

‘Yes, I know, I’ve seen the pictures. It was in the papers this morning. Everyone’s talking about it. I’d like to come over.’

William was impressed at how quickly Meryl’s gossip machine had swung into action, but he only said, ‘Good, then that’s something to set your sights on.’

On the drive back to London, William felt elated. He’d got through to his son for the first time ever. As he left he’d kissed Katherine on both cheeks and told her she was still an attractive woman.

Katherine had flushed, becoming almost girlish, which amazed William. Just by using some of Justin’s phrases and a little of his manner, he was making more of an impact than ever before. He began to realize how much he had changed and how he owed it all to Justin. He saw it as a good omen that Charlie had mentioned Justin, although whether or not Justin represented a good example for his son was another thing; he doubted it. The first thing he did when he returned home was call Justin. There was no reply, so he went to bed, but he woke three times and made three further calls. He still received no reply.

William was preoccupied with business for a further three days as a costly legal case was looming: the German company had refused to accept they did not own the patent on the fox-and-hens toy. William’s lawyers pointed out to him that it would not be a good idea to bring up the reason von Garten had withdrawn from his original deal, as the story would no doubt resurface in the press.

‘I no longer care what is printed about me, and I’m going to kick a few arses!’ William thundered.

‘But it won’t be cost-effective, William,’ came the reply.

‘Sometimes the cost of proving you can’t be shat on is worth it,’ he snapped, and hung up. Therefore he was not party to the conversation that ensued between his lawyers and business advisers.

As he put the phone down, the man to whom William had been speaking said, exasperatedly, ‘We sue, no discussions. He wants us to hit hard and heavy no matter the cost. He also appears to be on another planet. Either that or he’s losing his marbles...’

One of the young assistants spoke up nervously: ‘Perhaps Sir William has a point. Rumours are rife that Geffin’s may go public. A contact in Germany sent us some information about a Max von Garten, the Baron’s son. Apparently, Max von Garten has recently bought shares in Geffin’s Toys. You can bet that the purchase has been made on behalf of his father. The Baron must know the company is going to float; I’d say he’s got hold of information that has not yet gone public. He already has a fifty per cent share in the company, and now he has used his son to buy up even more, based on this inside information. Well, that’s illegal share trading! All we have to do is prove that he knew the company was going on the market before he bought the shares, and we can nail him for rogue trading as well as copyright. Double whammy!’

The senior men looked at each other, then began to sift through the mounds of paperwork already accrued on the case. They read and re-read it. The trouble-shooters William had hired had dug deep and dirty. They even had transcripts of private phone calls, not to mention private bank accounts.

‘Sir William’s right,’ said one of the seniors. ‘This’ll take more time but it will be worth it. We’ll have proof of insider share trading and that von Garten’s company have stolen — four patents, is it now?’

‘Five,’ said the eager young man. ‘And their share price has gone through the roof. Sir William’s been monitoring them for months. It just goes to show that his designs were worth stealing.’

The team were a little uneasy at the methods used to acquire some of the damning material, but it became obvious that Sir William and his business acumen had run rings round them as always. An elderly man, Douglas Alexander, who had worked with William for many years, tapped the table with his pen. ‘It seems to me that Sir William has some personal grievance against Baron von Garten. Do we know whether anything might crawl out of the woodwork, so to speak?’

He was reminded that von Garten had sold his factory to William’s strongest competitor and had poached his employees. Maybe that was reason enough for him to be hell-bent on hitting the von Garten company hard.

‘But Sir William has never been vindictive. I hope there is no ulterior motive as this case will make headlines.’ Douglas closed his files. ‘I have also been asked by Sir William to look into the financial situation with regard to Cedric Hangerford, particularly in regard to substantial loans Sir William wishes to be repaid. If that is not possible, we are to file bankruptcy orders. Again, this is rather a delicate matter as Lord Cedric is his ex-wife’s cousin, so I suggest we are polite in our dealings with him. In the past we have corresponded with him on this matter but got little response. This time, Sir William appears to want him pressured.’

William was looking forward to seeing his daughter. He wanted to get closer to her, as he had with Charlie. He was driving down the motorway on the way to Parents’ Day when Douglas Alexander called him on his mobile. What he had to say made William feel even better: Douglas felt now that they could nail von Garten to the proverbial mast.

‘I don’t suppose there’s anything personal in this, is there, William?’ he asked.

‘It’s just business, Douglas. You’ve known me long enough by now, surely?’

‘Indeed I have. But it’ll create a fuss and, after what you’ve been subjected to already by the media, I wondered whether you wanted to open yourself up to any further trouble.’

William’s lips tightened. ‘If you are referring to the scandal surrounding Andrew Maynard surfacing again...’

‘Of course not.’

‘Good.’

William hung up. He had not thought of Andrew Maynard for some time. Now he did, and he felt more than saddened. His suicide had made him weep, but had not really grieved him. In many ways his sadness now was that he had not, for inexplicable reasons, ever formed a closer friendship with Maynard. The truth was, he had wanted Maynard to like him. He had wanted to be his friend the way he had so wanted to be Peter Jenkins’ friend! Peter Jenkins, William muttered, shaking his head at himself. Dear God, why was he suddenly recalling Peter Jenkins, the freckled-face kid that sat next to him at grammar school? He remembered his overlong, curling eyelashes that made his tawny eyes look like a cat’s. Poor little Jenkins who had such a bad stammer he was bullied and constantly the butt of daily jokes. Jenkins had kissed him once. Suddenly, unexpectedly, he had kissed William’s neck and the shock of his small, wet lips had sent waves through William’s young, pubescent body. Only now did William ask himself why Jenkins had kissed him. Perhaps he just wanted to be his friend and this was the only way he knew of expressing it. Jenkins knew that William was often bullied too. Perhaps he thought that if they became best friends, they would at least have each other. But for some reason, the kiss had only annoyed William and he had ignored Jenkins after that. He had so wanted to be close to Peter, so why had he rejected him? Shortly afterwards, Peter Jenkins was killed on a level crossing on his way home from school. William couldn’t recall what had happened next, even now, but he could remember how he had felt, seated next to Peter Jenkins’ empty desk, because he had felt the same way after Andrew Maynard’s suicide.

William had to pull the car over and park on the hard shoulder of the motorway. He had never gone into Andrew’s death this way, never asked himself so many questions. He was now even questioning why he had believed that Maynard was worth the vast sums of money he had paid out. But deep down he knew he was. He recalled how he felt on the last afternoon he had seen him. He remembered his suit with the emerald green satin lining, and he remembered his attractive smile. His eyelashes were as long as little Jenkins’, but dark like his eyes. That afternoon he had known Maynard was in some kind of emotional turmoil. That was why he had asked him for dinner. If he had accepted, if that dinner had taken place, would he still be alive? Or would William have avoided probing into his private life or taking their relationship one step further?

He turned on the radio and felt a strange feeling of relief, as if opening the memories and facing them was yet another step in his progress towards understanding himself. Then he continued driving to his daughter’s school, looking forward to seeing her and hoping to have the same success with her as he felt he had started with Charlie.

‘Sir William Benedict,’ said Sabrina’s school secretary, rather loudly, ‘would you like to come through?’

‘Thank you,’ he said, and followed her to the headmistress’s study.

‘Sir William Benedict to see you, Mrs Harper-Nathan.’

They shook hands and he sat.

‘I am so pleased you were able to join us today. We have great hopes for Sabrina. She’s certainly Oxbridge material.’

He leaned forward. ‘I’m very aware of how difficult it must have been for her, for all my family, during my recent troubles. But everything has settled down now and I am grateful for the way you and your staff have protected my daughter. In gratitude I would like you to accept a small donation towards the building fund.’ He withdrew an envelope from his pocket and passed it to Miss Harper-Nathan. She glanced at the cheque for a second, then did a double-take. ‘This is really most generous, Sir William,’ she spluttered. ‘A quarter of a million pounds. Thank you so very much.’

William rose. ‘It’s been a pleasure,’ he said, and shook hands with her. The secretary told him that his daughter was waiting for him in room Four Omega. She would take him there.

He found Sabrina sitting half-way down the room facing the blackboard with a book open in front of her. She didn’t look up when William came in.

‘Sabrina?’ he said quietly, and closed the door. She didn’t speak, so he walked further in and sat on the edge of the teacher’s desk. ‘Is this your classroom?’

‘We move around,’ she said.

He sighed, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. ‘Well, I didn’t think this was going to be easy, but you might make some effort to be pleasant. I’ve driven a long way.’

‘What do you want me to do? Clap?’

He laughed. ‘I got a call from Charlie. He’s at a rehab place in Wales. Has he written to you?’

‘No.’

‘I’ll leave his address, then you can write to him. He needs all the support he can get.’ He shifted his weight. ‘I’m sorry your mother couldn’t come with me. She had a doctor’s appointment, but she sends her love.’

‘Playing happy families, are you?’ She looked up and glared at him.

‘It’s about time, isn’t it? Sabrina?’

‘You think you can just pick up being Daddy? What a farce! You make me sick. I didn’t want to see you. They forced me. They all make me sick, two-faced bitches! You should have seen the way they whispered about you.’

‘They seem to think you’re very clever. You’ve had impressive exam results.’ She chewed her nails and kicked the side of her desk. He continued, ‘Especially your computer studies. I’m pleased about that. Maybe one day you’ll take over the firm. There’s plenty of opportunities for you to think about. According to Mrs Harper-Nathan you’re top of the league, Oxford or Cambridge. I’d have given my eye-teeth to go to either.’ Sabrina said nothing. ‘Why don’t we try to be friends?’

‘You may be able to buy Charlie, because he’s as thick as two short planks. You might even be able to buy off Mother. She’s in need of cash right now — that’ll be the only reason she’s even talking to you. She hates you, and Charlie’s only being nice for what he can get out of you. And I’ve got a life of my own... a secret life. There’ll be no Oxford or Cambridge.’

‘All right,’ said William. ‘That’s fine. But I want you to know that if you ever need me, I’ll be there for you. I always have been, you know, not just financially. It was impossible for me to be a good father when your mother refused to let me see you.’

‘Bullshit.’ Sabrina picked up her book, snapped it shut and walked to the door. ‘You’re in for a big surprise soon, Daddy-oh.’ And with that she strode out.

As William drove back to London fog was drawing in. The drive was murderous and he was angry with himself. He realized he’d allowed Katherine to turn his children against him. She had forbidden him to keep in touch with them and had poisoned them against him.

It was just after midnight when he arrived home. He was about to head straight upstairs to bed, but heard the soft murmur of voices. He wondered if it might be Michael, or perhaps his valet. But then he heard music, some dreadful rap beat. He switched on the hall light, and saw a leather valise in the hall, a sports bag and a tennis racket. Puzzled, he headed towards the drawing room. When he opened the door, he was surprised to come face to face with Charlie, who was dancing around the room, a cigarette hanging from his lips. ‘Oh, hi, Dad!’ he said nonchalantly. ‘We wondered when you’d get back.’

William turned to see Justin sitting on the sofa with a glass of champagne in his hand. ‘Hope you don’t mind, but Charlie let me in.’ Justin stood and wrapped his arms around William’s shoulders. ‘I missed you,’ he said, and kissed him on both cheeks.

William was at a loss for words. Charlie poured him a glass of champagne and handed it to him. William rounded on him. ‘I only spoke to you this afternoon, for God’s sake. What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at the clinic?’

Charlie looked evasive. ‘Oh, we get weekend leave, Dad, didn’t I tell you? It’s a fantastic coincidence that Justin’s here.’

William accepted the chilled champagne. Justin gave William a covert look and almost mimicked Charlie’s voice. ‘Thanks, Dad.’ William raised his glass but felt a deep undercurrent. What was going on? Having Justin turn up out of the blue with Charlie felt ominous.

‘When do we leave for the island, Dad?’ said Charlie.

William downed his drink in one. ‘I’ll think about it in the morning after a good night’s sleep. Go to bed, Charlie. It’s late, and I want to talk to Justin.’

Charlie groaned, but his father hadn’t made a fuss about his departure from the clinic and he was grateful for that so he trudged off. That is, he hadn’t made a fuss yet — but he would when he discovered that Charlie had lied about the weekend leave.

William stood at the bottom of the stairs watching Charlie disappear. He called goodnight, then turned his attention to Justin and indicated the study. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.

Justin raised his eyebrows. ‘What on earth do you think is going on? I missed you so I came over. You called enough times, I thought you’d be pleased to see me.’ He laid his hand on William’s arm.

William shook it off. ‘Cut the crap. What do you want?’

‘Oh!’ squealed Justin. ‘Mr Tough Guy.’

‘Is it money you’re after?’

Justin sat down beside him, and pulled out a large file from his case. ‘Look, the trap is set.’ He tossed a wad of newspaper cuttings about the island on to William’s lap. ‘It’s finished, all set up. It’s up to you now. If you need my help you can have it. If not I’ll be off.’

William started to look over the cuttings. Suddenly the phone rang. ‘Who the hell...?’ William lifted the receiver. ‘Yup?’

It was Mrs Harper-Nathan. ‘Thank goodness you’re there, Sir William. I’ve been trying to get hold of Lady Benedict but there’s no reply.’ William wished she’d get to the point. ‘Sir William, I’m afraid your daughter has gone missing.’

‘But I only saw her this afternoon.’

‘Well, she did leave a note, but she’s packed her case and left. We were rather hoping she might have come to you.’

‘What does the note say?’ There was an embarrassed pause. ‘Well?’ asked William.

‘Well,’ said Mrs Harper-Nathan, ‘it seems she has eloped with the school caretaker’s son. She says in the note that she’s pregnant by him. I’ve spoken to the caretaker. He thinks his son is staying in a squat in Notting Hill Gate, above a pub. The Six Bells, I think he said.’ There was a short silence. ‘I’m so sorry, Sir William.’

‘The boy’s name?’

‘Jacob Mkomazi.’

‘Fax me that note. And, Mrs Harper-Nathan, no police, no press.’ He hung up.

‘Bad news?’ Justin asked.

William gave a gesture of despair and went into Michael’s office. Justin trailed after him, and by the time the fax had come through, William had told him about Sabrina. ‘It’s one bloody thing after another,’ he muttered, passing the fax for Justin to read. ‘First my son, now my daughter. Dear God, if the press get hold of either story they’ll have a field day.’

Justin was pulling on his jacket. ‘Look, William, you may be knackered, you certainly look it, and I know there’s trouble, but the best way of dealing with trouble is action. Okay?’ He was holding the door open. ‘I’ll drive you wherever you want to go.’

Justin and William sped off in William’s sports car to Notting Hill Gate. They cruised the streets until William spotted the Ten Bells. ‘That must be it,’ he shouted.

Justin swerved into the kerb. It was pouring with rain. William got out; crossed the pavement and pushed open the graffiti-covered side-door. The dank, carpetless hall smelt of urine and stale food, overridden by the powerful smell of ganja, which made William’s head reel. There were several doors, and the sound of a jazz trumpet mingled with televisions and muted voices, then, eerily, a loud, cackling laugh.

He knocked at one door and received no reply. Looking down the dingy hall he saw that there was a basement, and another apartment further along. He decided to listen at each flat, rather than knocking. On the third floor, he heard Sabrina laugh, a joyful sound, so unlike the bitter, hard little girl he had encountered that afternoon.

He rapped lightly and waited. The door inched open and a tall, handsome boy with shoulder-length dreadlocks looked down at him. ‘Yeah?’

‘I’m Sabrina’s father,’ William said. The boy gave a half-smile before he turned back to the room.

‘Tell him to go fuck himself!’ came Sabrina’s high-pitched voice.

The boy turned back to William and his beautiful, dark, slanting eyes twinkled. ‘Guess she don’t want to see you, sir.’

‘Don’t call him “sir”, Jacob. You don’t ever have to call anyone sir, and especially not him. Shut the door.’

Jacob turned to William. ‘She don’t want to see you.’

He was about to shut the door when William stuck out his hand. ‘Listen, Jacob. I want to see my daughter, and I want to talk to her. It’ll take a few minutes then I’ll walk away. She need never see me again if that’s what she wants.’

Jacob hesitated, then swung the door open.

Sabrina was lying on a moth-eaten couch, with a portable TV set balanced at one end amongst cans of Coke, packets of crisps and a bowl of apples. The room was untidy and dirty. Even the bed in one corner had not been made. Jacob gestured to a dilapidated wing-back armchair, the stuffing and springs bulging out, barely concealed by a big wool rug that had been thrown over it. Two guitars and a set of conga drums were stashed beside it.

‘Sit down,’ Jacob said, hitching up his jeans. He wore an old miner’s shirt with a knitted sweater over it, dirty sneakers and no socks. ‘You want some coffee?’ he asked.

‘Yes, please,’ William said, easing himself into the chair, afraid it would collapse under him.

‘You want a milkshake, Sabby?’

‘Okay.’ She had not even looked at her father.

‘Be two minutes.’ Jacob opened her purse and took out some money.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d have to go out for it,’ William said, but the door closed. Then he turned to his daughter. ‘You’re pregnant?’ he said.

‘I’m not going back to school. Never, never, never. Okay?’

William looked at the guitars and asked if Jacob played in a band. She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Right now he’s cleaning tables in a bar,’ she said defiantly.

‘You need money?’ he asked.

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, it didn’t take you long to get around to that, did it? Listen, I don’t need a cent from you, I’ve got my trust fund.’

‘And the fairies made that up for you, did they? Well, you can’t get your hands on that till you’re twenty-one. That’s quite a few years to wait. If you’re having a baby, you’re gonna need more space than one room.’

She was unsure how to take what he had said. He hadn’t been angry — in fact he seemed to have accepted her situation.

‘Are you going to get married?’ he asked.

She laughed humourlessly. ‘Yeah, all in white with four bridesmaids.’

‘Do you love him, or are you just doing this to get back at me?’ He moved closer.

She nodded as tears spilled down her cheeks. ‘Please go away,’ she whispered.

‘I will, but we need to talk about maternity bills, hospitals...’

‘For fuck’s sake don’t tell me to get a nanny! I had my fill of those. This baby is all mine. At last, something of my own that no one can take away from me. We’re going to bring it up, me and Jacob.’

William reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. Again she asked him to leave, but this time without anger. He stood up and laid his hand on her head. ‘I love you. If you ever need me, I’ll be there. Take care of yourself, Sabrina, and I hope you’ll be a lot happier with Jacob than I ever was with your mother. I’ll call her and tell her you’re looking well and happy.’

William sat on the stairs waiting for Jacob to return. He came in carrying a cardboard tray with their coffees and the milkshake.

‘Hi,’ William said, trying to appear relaxed.

‘Hi. She’s into these milkshakes and crisps.’

‘You’re lucky. With her mother it was pâté de foie gras and champagne. Sit down, Jacob.’

Jacob squashed down beside him, his long legs stretched out as he passed over the coffee.

‘You are going to marry my daughter?’ William asked, removing the lid and dripping coffee over his raincoat.

‘Yep, when we got some cash. Right now we’re having to be real careful. She’s half-way. We’ve got to take care of the baby.’

‘You love her?’ asked William, sipping the strong coffee.

Jacob’s dark eyes bored into William’s. ‘No, I’m after her trust fund, man!’

‘No need for sarcasm. Anyway, you’re going to have a long wait. She’s only sixteen, and she can’t touch it until she’s—’

‘Twenty-one. Yeah, I know.’

‘You work in a bar?’ William asked, and sipped the coffee.

‘Yeah. Sorry I’m not no accountant.’

‘Jacob, I don’t give a fuck what you are just so long as you’re going to take care of my daughter. Listen to what I have to say.’

‘I’m all ears.’ Jacob drained his coffee and crushed the cup in one hand.

‘You needn’t tell Sabrina, if you don’t want to, but I’m going to open a bank account in your name. All I ask is for you to take care of her and contact me when she’s in labour. I’d like to see the baby. After all, it’ll be my grandchild.’

‘No thanks, no bank account. I’ll take care of her ’cos I’m crazy about her and we’ll get along fine.’

William stood up and looked down into Jacob’s face. ‘Don’t turn it down. Everyone needs a break. It won’t be millions, just enough to get you started in some kind of job, whatever you want. Get a decent place to bring up your kids. I may not have been a decent father, but...’

‘Money’s no object, huh?’

William leaned over him. ‘I earned every cent I’ve ever made. If you love her you’ll take what I’m offering, because if you don’t you’ll not stand a chance of making it work between you. It’s a game for her right now, but she’s scared shitless.’

Jacob bowed his head as William took out a visiting card. ‘Ask to speak to Michael. He’ll have all the details.’

Jacob held the card loosely in his hand before he stood up to face his soon-to-be father-in-law. ‘Thank you.’ William reached out and hugged him.

When William reached the car he saw that Justin was asleep, his head resting against the car window and his mouth slightly open. He looked like a small boy. William tapped on the window and Justin’s eyes sprang open. There was a moment, it came and went so fast, but for that second, as Justin stirred, he seemed terror-struck: his hands flailed and he covered his face as if protecting himself from a beating.

‘Sorry,’ William found himself apologizing, ‘do you want me to drive?’

‘No, get in. Did it all go okay?’

‘Yep, but I don’t want to talk about it. All I can think of is getting some shut-eye.’

Justin grinned as he started the engine. ‘Right, home it is.’

When they got home William directed Justin to a spare bedroom and was thankful that Justin said that they’d talk in the morning. But when he leaned close and kissed his cheek, it was perhaps the best moment of William’s wretched day.