Дик Фрэнсис - Decider

It was at that point that I heard voices out in the hall, near, coming nearer.

‘But, Father,’ Dart’s voice reached me loudly, desperately, ‘I want you to come and look at the fence along the five-acre covert—’

‘Not now, Dart,’ Conrad’s voice said. ‘And why were you not at the meeting?’

Bloody hell , I thought. I snatched up the tape and stuck it into my trousers pocket, and leaned over the set of grandstand plans as if they were the only interest in my life.

Conrad pushed open the door of the room, his until-then friendly expression becoming rapidly surprised and then thunderous, as anyone’s would on seeing their most private heartland invaded.

Worse; behind him came Keith.

Conrad looked at his open cupboard with the light shining within, and at me by his desk. His bullish features darkened, his heavy eyebrows lowered, his mouth hardened implacably.

‘Explain yourself!’ he demanded, his voice harsh and scathing.

‘I’m very sorry,’ I said awkwardly. I put the plans into the folder and closed it. ‘I can’t excuse myself. I can only apologise. I do, very sincerely, apologise.’

‘It’s not good enough!’ His anger was deep and all the worse for being alien to his everyday nature, which was not quick to violence, like Keith’s. ‘That cupboard was locked. I always lock it. How did you open it?’

I didn’t answer him. The shaved key I’d used was still in the keyhole. I felt appallingly embarrassed, which no doubt he could see.

In an access of real rage he snatched up my walking stick, which lay on his desk, and raised it as if he would strike me.

‘Oh no, Conrad,’ I said. ‘Don’t.’

He hesitated, his arm high. ‘Why not? Why bloody not? You deserve it.’

‘It’s not your sort of thing.’

‘It’s mine,’ Keith said loudly. He tugged the walking stick unceremoniously from his unprotesting twin and took a quick slash at my head.

I put an arm up in a reflex parrying action, caught the stick in my hand and, with more force than he’d envisaged, pulled it vigorously towards me. He held on long enough to overbalance, his weight coming forward, and he let go only in order to put both hands on the desk to steady himself.

All three of them, Conrad, Keith and Dart, looked stunned, but in truth that morning I’d felt some of my old strength returning like an incoming, welcome and familiar tide. They’d grown used to my weakness: had been unprepared for anything else.

I leaned on the stick, nevertheless; and Keith straightened himself, and in his eyes promised me death.

I said to Conrad, ‘I wanted to look at the plans.’

‘But why?’

‘He’s an architect,’ Dart said, defending me, though I wished he hadn’t.

‘A builder,’ contradicted his father.

‘Both,’ I said briefly, ‘I’m very sorry. Very. I should have asked you to give me a sight of them, and not broken in here. I’m humbled... mortified...’ And so I was, but not repentant nor truly ashamed.

Conrad interrupted my grovelling, saying, ‘How did you know where the plans were?’ He turned to Dart. ‘How did he know? He couldn’t have found that cupboard by himself. It’s practically invisible.’

Dart, looking as uncomfortable as I felt, came round the desk and stopped a pace behind my left shoulder, almost as if sheltering from the parental ire brewing in Conrad.

‘You told him where to look,’ Conrad accused his son indignantly. ‘You showed him.’

Dart said weakly, ‘I didn’t think it would matter. What’s the big deal?’

Conrad gaped at him. ‘How can I explain if you can’t see? But you ,’ he turned to me, ‘I’d just begun to think we might trust you.’ He shrugged defeatedly. ‘Get out, both of you. You disgust me.’

‘No,’ Keith protested, ‘how do you know he’s not stolen anything?’ He looked round the room. ‘You have all these silver and gold pieces in here. He’s a thief .’

Damn bloody Keith, I thought, smothering panic. I’d stolen better than gold, and intended to keep what I’d taken. Stronger I might be, but couldn’t yet swear to the outcome of a straightforward brawl, one against two. Guile , I told myself: all I had in the locker.

I raised my chin, until then tucked down in abashment. I looked as unworried as I could manage. I propped the walking stick against the desk, unzipped the front of the easy jacket which had spent several days earlier draped over the chair in Roger’s office, slid my arms out of it and threw it to Conrad.

‘Search it,’ I said.

He caught the bunched cloth. Keith seized the jacket and went through the pockets. No silver or gold. Nothing stolen.

I was wearing my loose wool checked shirt. I unbuttoned the cuffs and undid the front buttons, tugged off the shirt and threw it too to Conrad.

I stood bare to the waist. I smiled. I unzipped my fly and began to unbuckle my belt.

‘Trousers next?’ I asked Conrad lightly. ‘Shoes? Socks? Anything else?’

‘No. No.’ He was confused. He made an upzipping gesture. ‘Put your shirt on again.’ He threw the shirt back to me. ‘You may be untrustworthy — I’m disappointed, I admit — but not a petty thief.’ He turned to Keith. ‘Let him go, Keith. Pick your fight somewhere else. Not in this room.’

I put my shirt on and did up the buttons, but left the tails hanging down, like a coat.

Dart said abjectly, ‘Father, I’m sorry.’

Conrad made a dismissive gesture. Dart edged round the desk, looking warily at Keith, who still held my jacket.

I followed Dart, limping slowly, the walking stick both a prop and a defence.

Conrad said mordantly, ‘I don’t want to see you again, Mr Morris.’

I ducked my head, acknowledging fault.

Keith clung onto my jacket.

I was not going to ask for it back. Don’t push your luck, I thought: the slightest quiver could erupt the volcano. I was glad simply to reach the door unmolested and to creep through into the hall, and scuttle across it ignominiously, as low in Conrad’s esteem as a cockroach.

I held my breath until we were out of the house, but no angry yells stopped us. Dart scurried into his car, now flanked by Keith’s Jaguar, and waited impatiently during my slower progress.

He let out an agonised ‘Whew’ of relief as his engine fired and we sped to the road. ‘My God, he was angry.’

‘You’re a bloody lousy look-out,’ I said bitterly. ‘Where was my warning?’

‘Yes, well, look, sorry .’

‘Were you asleep?’

‘No... no... I was reading.’

Comprehension arrived. ‘You were reading that damned magazine about hair loss!’

‘Well... I...’ He grinned, shamefacedly, admitting it.

There was nothing to be done about it. The toots on the horn would have given me time to transfer from Conrad’s sanctum to the innocence of the bathroom near the rear entrance. Being caught with my hand in the till, so to speak, had not only been a rotten experience but might set Conrad checking the contents of the boxes. The consequences could be utterly disastrous.

‘You took such a long time,’ Dart complained. ‘What kept you so long?’

‘Just looking around.’

‘And it was Keith’s car they came back in,’ Dart said, excusing himself. ‘I was on the look-out for Father’s.’

‘Not much of a look-out.’

‘You looked terribly guilty,’ Dart said accusingly, shifting the blame.

‘Yes, I felt it.’

‘But as for Keith thinking you’d steal...’ He paused. ‘When you took your shirt off... I mean, I knew parts of the stands fell on you, but all those stitches and bruises... they must hurt .’