Jeffrey Archer - A Prisoner Of Birth

"Yes," said Danny, aware that concealing anything from his probation officer would be regarded as a breach of his parole conditions. "My former driver has just been released on bail, and is currently staying with me."

"Is there enough room in the house for both of you?"

"More than enough, thank you, Ms. Bennett."

"And does he have a job?"

"Yes, he's going to be my driver."

"I think you're in enough trouble as it is, Nicholas, without being facetious."

"It's no more than the truth, Ms. Bennett. My grandfather has left me with sufficient funds to allow me to employ a driver."

Ms. Bennett looked down at the questions that the Home Office expected her to ask at monthly meetings. There didn't appear to be anything there about employing your own driver. She tried again.

"Have you been tempted to commit a crime since our last meeting?"

"No, Ms. Bennett."

"Have you been taking any drugs?"

"No, Ms. Bennett."

"Are you at present drawing unemployment benefit?"

"No, Ms. Bennett."

"Do you require any other assistance from the probation service?"

"No, thank you, Ms. Bennett."

Ms. Bennett had come to the end of her list of questions, but had only spent half the time she was allocated for each client. "Why don't you tell me what you've been up to for the past month?" she asked desperately.

"I'm going to have to let you go," said Beth, resorting to the euphemism Mr. Thomas always fell back on whenever he sacked a member of staff.

"But why?" asked Trevor Sutton. "If I go, you won't have a manager. Unless you've already got someone else lined up to replace me."

"I have no plans to replace you," said Beth. "But since my father's death, the garage has been steadily losing money. I can't afford this state of affairs to continue any longer," she added, reading from the script Mr. Thomas had prepared for her.

"But you haven't given me enough time to prove myself," protested Sutton.

Beth wished that it was Danny who was sitting in her place-but if Danny had been around, the problem would never have arisen in the first place.

"If we have another three months like the last three," Beth said, "we'll be out of business."

"What am I expected to do?" demanded Sutton, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table. "Because I know one thing, the boss would never have treated me this way."

Beth felt angry that he had mentioned her father. But Mr. Thomas had advised her to try to put herself in Trevor's shoes, and to imagine how he must be feeling, especially since he'd never worked anywhere else since the day he left Clement Attlee Comprehensive.

"I've had a word with Monty Hughes," said Beth, trying to remain calm, "and he assured me that he'd be able to find you a place on his staff." What she didn't add was that Mr. Hughes only had a junior mechanic's job available, which would mean a considerable drop in pay for Trevor.

"That's all very well," he said angrily, "but what about compensation? I know my rights."

"I'm willing to pay you three months' wages," said Beth, "and also to give you a reference saying that you've been among the hardest workers." And among your most stupid , Monty Hughes had added when Beth had consulted him. While she waited for Trevor's response, she recalled Danny's words, but only because he can't add up. Beth pulled open the drawer of her father's desk and extracted a bulky package and a single sheet of paper. She ripped open the package and emptied its contents onto the desk. Sutton stared down at the pile of fifty-pound notes and licked his lips as he tried to calculate just how much money was on the table. Beth slid a contract across the desk that Mr. Thomas had prepared for her the previous afternoon. "If you sign here," she said, placing her finger on a dotted line, "the seven thousand pounds will be yours." Trevor hesitated, while Beth tried not to show just how desperate she was for him to sign the contract. She waited for Trevor to spend the money, although it seemed an age before he eventually picked up the proffered pen and wrote the only two words he could spell with confidence. He suddenly gathered up the cash and, without uttering another word, turned his back on Beth and marched out of the room.

Once Trevor had kicked the door closed behind him, Beth breathed a sigh of relief that wouldn't have left him in any doubt that he could have demanded far more than seven thousand, though, in truth, withdrawing that amount of cash from the bank had just about emptied the garage's account. All that was left for Beth to do now was to sell off the property as quickly as possible.

The young estate agent who had looked over the property had assured her that the garage was worth at least two hundred thousand. After all, it was a freehold site, situated in an excellent location with easy access to the City. Two hundred thousand pounds would solve all of Beth's financial problems, and mean there was enough left over to ensure that Christy could have the education she and Danny had always planned for her.

DANNY WAS READING Milton Friedman's Tax Limitation, Inflation and the Role of Government and taking notes on the chapter about the property cycle and the effects of negative equity when the phone rang. After two hours of studying, he was beginning to feel that anything would be an improvement on Professor Friedman. He picked up the phone to hear a woman's voice.

"Hi, Nick. It's a voice from your past."

"Hi, voice from my past," said Danny, desperately trying to put a name to it.

"You said you were going to come and see me while I was on tour. Well, I keep looking out into the audience, but you're never there."

"So where are you performing at the moment?" asked Danny, still racking his brains, but no name came to his rescue.

" Cambridge, the Arts Theatre."

"Great, which play?"

" A Woman of No Importance. "

"Oscar Wilde again," said Danny, aware that he didn't have much longer.

"Nick, you don't even remember my name, do you?"

"Don't be silly, Katie," he said, just in time. "How could I ever forget my favorite understudy?"

"Well, I've got the lead now, and I was hoping you'd come and see me."

"Sounds good," said Danny, flicking through the pages of his diary, although he knew that almost every evening was free. "How about Friday?"

"Couldn't be better. We can spend the weekend together."

"I have to be back in London for a meeting on Saturday morning," said Danny, looking at a blank page in his diary.

"So it will have to be another one-night stand," said Katie. "I can live with that." Danny didn't respond. "Curtain's up at seven-thirty. I'll leave a ticket for you at the box office. Come alone, because I don't intend to share you with anybody."

Danny put the phone down and stared at the photograph of Beth that was in a silver frame on the corner of his desk.

"There are three men coming up the path," said Molly as she looked out of the kitchen window. "They look foreign."

"They're quite harmless," Danny assured her. "Just show them into the living room and tell them I'll join them in a moment."

Danny ran up the stairs to his study and grabbed the three files that he had been working on in preparation for the meeting, then quickly made his way back downstairs.

The three men who were waiting for him looked identical in every way except for their age. They wore well-tailored dark blue suits, white shirts and anonymous ties, and each carried a black leather briefcase. You would have passed them in the street without giving them a second look-which would have pleased them.

"How nice to see you again, Baron," said Danny.