Jeffrey Archer - As the Crow Flies

"You're a gentleman, Charlie, I always said you were. Didn't I always say he was, Hilda?"

Mrs. Wrexall nodded enthusiastically as Charlie smiled, picked up the contract and placed all the papers inside his briefcase and then shook hands with the publican and his wife.

"How much is the damage?" he asked after he had drained the last drop of his beer.

"It's on the house," said Wrexall.

"But, Syd—"

"No, I insist, wouldn't dream of treating an old friend like a customer, Charlie. On the house," he repeated as the telephone rang and Hilda Wrexall went off to answer it.

"Well, I must be on my way," said Charlie. "Otherwise I'll be late for this conference, and I'm meant to be delivering another speech tonight. Nice to have done business with you, Syd." He had just reached the door of the pub as Mrs. Wrexall came rushing back to the counter.

"There's a lady on the line for you, Syd. Calling long distance. Says her name is Mrs. Trentham."

As the months passed Charlie became the master of his brief. No port directors could be sure when he might burst into their offices, no suppliers were surprised when he demanded to check their invoices and the president of the National Farmers' Union positively purred whenever Charlie's name came up in conversation.

He never found it necessary to phone the Prime Minister, although Mr. Churchill did phone him on one occasion. It was four forty-five in the morning when Charlie picked up the receiver on his desk.

"Good morning," he said.

"Trumper?"

"Yes, who's that?"

"Churchill."

"Good morning, Prime Minister. What can I do for you, sir?"

"Nothing. I was just checking that it was true what they say about you. By the way, thank you." The phone went dead.

Charlie even managed from time to time to have lunch with Daniel. The boy was now attached to the War Office, but would never talk about the work he was involved in. After he was promoted to captain, Charlie's only worry became what Becky's reaction would be if she ever saw him in uniform.

When Charlie visited Tom Arnold at the end of the month he learned that Mr. Hadlow had retired as manager of the bank and his replacement, a Mr. Paul Merrick, was not proving to be quite as amenable. "Says our overdraft is reaching unacceptable levels and perhaps it's time we did something about it," explained Tom.

"Does he?" said Charlie. "Then I shall obviously have to see this Mr. Merrick and tell him a few home truths."

Although Trumper's now owned all the shops in Chelsea Terrace, with the exception of the bookshop, Charlie was still faced with the problem of Mrs. Trentham and her bombed-out flats, not to mention the additional worry of Herr Hitler and his unfinished war: these he tended to place in roughly the same category, and nearly always in that order.

The war with Herr Hitler began to take a step in the right direction towards the end of 1942 with the victory of the Eighth Army at El Alamein. Charlie felt confident that Churchill was right when he declared that the tide had turned, as first Africa, followed by Italy, France and finally Germany were invaded.

But by then it was Mr. Merrick who was insisting on seeing Charlie.

When Charlie entered Mr. Merrick's office for the first time he was surprised to find how young Mr. Hadlow's replacement was. It also took him a few moments to get used to a bank manager who didn't wear a waistcoat or a black tie. Paul Merrick was a shade taller than Charlie and every bit as broad in everything except his smile. Charlie quickly discovered that Mr. Merrick had no small talk.

"Are you aware, Mr. Trumper, that your company account is overdrawn by some forty-seven thousand pounds and your present income doesn't even cover—"

"But the property must be worth four or five times that amount."

"Only if you're able to find someone who's willing to buy it."

"But I'm not a seller."

"You may be left with no choice, Mr. Trumper, if the bank decides to foreclose on you."

"Then I'll just have to change banks, won't I," said Charlie.

"You have obviously not had the time recently to read the minutes of your own board meetings because when they last met, your managing director Mr. Arnold reported that he had visited six banks in the past month and none of them had showed the slightest interest in taking over Trumper's account."

Merrick waited for his customer's response but as Charlie remained silent he continued. "Mr. Crowther also explained to the board on that occasion that the problem you are now facing has been caused by property prices being lower now than they have been at any time since the 1930s."

"But that will change overnight once the war is over."

"Possibly, but that might not be for several years and you could be insolvent long before then—"

"More like twelve months would be my guess."

"—especially if you continue to sign checks to the value of six thousand pounds for property worth about half that amount."

"But if I hadn't—"

"You might not be in such a precarious position."

Charlie remained silent for some time. "So what do you expect me to do about it?" he asked finally.

"I require you to sign over all the properties and stock held by your company as collateral against the overdraft. I have already drawn up the necessary papers."

Merrick swiveled round a document that lay on the middle of his desk. "If you feel able to sign," he added, pointing to a dotted line near the bottom of the page marked by two pencil crosses, "I would be willing to extend your credit for a further twelve months."

"And if I refuse?"

"I'll be left with no choice but to issue an insolvency notice within twenty-eight days."

Charlie stared down at the document and saw that Becky had already signed on the line above his. Both men remained silent for some time as Charlie weighed up the alternatives. Then without offering any further comment Charlie took out his pen, scrawled a signature between the two penciled crosses, swiveled the document back round, turned and marched out of the room without another word.

The surrender of Germany was signed by General Jodl and accepted on behalf of the Allies by General Bedell Smith at Reims on 7 May 1945.

Charlie would have joined the VE Day celebrations in Trafalgar Square had Becky not reminded him that their overdraft had reached nearly sixty thousand pounds and Merrick was once again threatening them with bankruptcy.

"He's got his hands on the property and all our stock—what else does he expect me to do?" demanded Charlie.

"He's now suggesting that we sell the one thing that could clear the debt, and would even leave some capital over to see us through the next couple of years."

"And what's that?"

"Van Gogh's The Potato Eaters ."

"Never!"

"But Charlie, the painting belongs to . . ."

Charlie made an appointment to see Lord Woolton the following morning and explained to the minister he was now faced with his own problems that required his immediate attention. He therefore asked, now that the war in Europe was over, if he could be released from his present duties.

Lord Woolton fully understood Charlie's dilemma and made it clear how sad he and all at the department would be to see him go.

When Charlie left his office a month later the only thing he took with him was Jessica Allen.

Charlie's problems didn't ease up during 1945 as property prices continued to fall and inflation continued to rise. He was nevertheless touched when, after peace had been declared with Japan, the Prime Minister held a dinner in his honor at Number 10. Daphne admitted that she had never entered the building, and told Becky that she wasn't even sure she wanted to. Percy admitted he wanted to, and was envious.

There were several leading cabinet ministers present for the occasion. Becky was placed between Churchill and the rising young star Rab Butler, while Charlie was seated next to Mrs. Churchill and Lady Woolton. Becky watched her husband as he chatted in a relaxed way with the Prime Minister and Lord Woolton, and had to smile when Charlie had the nerve to offer the old man a cigar he had specially selected that afternoon from Number 139. No one in that room could possibly have guessed that they were on the verge of bankruptcy.