Стивен Бут - Drowned Lives

‘So we’ll have no ad revenue to rely on either.’

‘Not a penny.’

‘How much are we talking about?’

‘We owe them six thousand pounds.’

‘I haven’t got half of that.’

‘Well, I haven’t got any of it. I’ve been putting my own money in, and it’s all gone. I’m totally broke. It’s up to you now, mate.’

‘There’s no way I can find six thousand pounds. No way.’

‘If you can’t, it’s court for both of us, and bankruptcy. They’ll make you sell the house, I expect. I only rent a flat, remember. I’ve got no assets to dispose of.’

‘This is a disaster. How the hell did it ever get to this?’

‘It was always a gamble. It didn’t come off, that’s all. It was the wrong time. In another couple of years, we could try again.’

‘You must be joking. I wouldn’t touch anything ever again that you were involved in.’

‘Hey, it’s not my fault, mate.’

‘Isn’t it? You kept telling me we were on to a good thing. You kept saying you’d done the market research and we’d make a killing. Those were your exact words.’

‘So I was wrong. It’s just one of those things.’

‘Crap. You’ve been a totally devious bastard over this, Dan.’

‘Calling me names isn’t going to help. We have to find a way out of the situation we’re in.’

‘A loan from the bank—’

‘We’ve already got one, remember? And that’s the next thing. Once the bank gets wind of the fact we’re in trouble, they’ll be calling in the loan. That’s another twenty grand.’

‘Oh great.’

‘If I were you, Chris, I’d start thinking about putting that house of yours on the market. Unless you can find somewhere else to lay your hands on a few thousand quid in the next few months. Otherwise, I suppose I’ll be seeing you in court.’

First thing on Monday morning, I went to Mr Elsworth’s office. I needed to ask him some questions. Rather to my surprise, I was shown in to see the solicitor almost straightaway.

‘Mr Buckley, how nice to see you again. I do have a few minutes, if there’s something I can help you with.’

‘It’s about the conditions in Samuel Longden’s will.’

‘Ah yes, that rather unusual bequest.’

‘I’m wondering how rigid the conditions are.’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, the deadline. The book has to be published within the next two years, and a copy delivered to you so the money can be released from the estate.’

‘Yes, I’m afraid the book must be published by the year 2000, that being the two hundredth anniversary of William Buckley’s death, I gather.’ He gave a dry, humourless laugh. ‘I say “must”, but only if you intend to claim the bequest of fifty thousand pounds, of course.’

‘And if I don’t?’

‘Well, if you decide you don’t wish to make a claim, or you’re unable to satisfy the executors that you’ve fulfilled the conditions, the relevant amount will be reabsorbed into the estate and added to the residue inherited by Mr Longden’s principal beneficiary.’

‘It will go to his daughter, Caroline.’

‘Quite so.’

‘Mr Elsworth, this is proving to be a major task. You realise it takes time to approach publishers, and even more to convince them you have a book worth publishing? Getting to the production stage can easily take another eighteen months. And I haven’t even started writing the book yet.’

‘Yes, so I believe. It’s true you don’t have much time, Mr Buckley. But then, there’s nothing like an approaching deadline for focusing the mind, I find.’

That sounded a bit rich coming from somebody in the legal profession, whose sole aim, in my experience, was to delay things as long as possible to maximise their fees. But I decided to let it pass. I couldn’t risk antagonising Mr Elsworth, because I needed his help. Besides, I had enough enemies already.

‘Also, you realise that if nobody is interested in publishing the thing as a commercial proposition, I’d have to spend money myself on having it produced?’ I said.

‘I dare say.’

‘Well, I can’t afford to do that. My financial circumstances are rather difficult at the moment. Not to put too fine a point on it, I may be facing bankruptcy.’

‘I’m very sorry to hear that, Mr Buckley. Very sorry indeed. How did this come about?’

‘A business enterprise has run into problems. There are debts to meet. I don’t see any way of being able to pay for the publication of the book myself. Unless some of Great-Uncle Samuel’s bequest could be released in advance.’

‘Ah.’ He looked genuinely sorry. ‘I really don’t think I can help you. There’s no provision in the will for releasing all, or even part, of this bequest in advance of the conditions being met.’ He stared thoughtfully at the ceiling for a moment. ‘Mmm. I suppose it might be argued that the executors have the power to make that concession on their own judgement.’

‘But you’re the executor, aren’t you, Mr Elsworth?’

‘I’m one of two,’ he said. ‘The other executor would have to be in full agreement before such a thing could even be considered.’

‘And the other executor?’ I asked. But I knew before he told me, and my hopes had already faded.

‘Miss Caroline Longden.’

Caroline thought her father had made a serious error in asking me to help him, maybe even a fatal error. She was suspicious of me, and perhaps a bit jealous. No doubt she would like to ask for the papers back, but once she’d seen the will, it wasn’t possible for her to do that. Yet as an executor of the will, she could make it impossible for me to get my hands on the money.

It had been only a faint hope to help me out of what seemed a deeper and deeper hole I was sinking into. But my meeting with Mr Elsworth had done one thing — it had finally convinced me that I’d have to concentrate my energies on the book. Circumstances had conspired to paint me into a corner, with no other options.

I’d rung Laura and arranged to take Rachel’s notes to her at the George on Wednesday night. I presented them to her proudly, as if I was offering a bouquet of flowers. She looked through them quizzically.

‘Who wrote this, Chris?’

‘Rachel. That’s my neighbour. It’s her theory, not mine.’

‘But who were these enemies? Why should William Buckley have had enemies? He was only the resident engineer. It couldn’t even have been a business rivalry. Why should anyone have bothered with him, unless he really was a thief or embezzler? Even then, the law would have dealt with him. Penalties were pretty severe in those days, you know.’

‘Hanging for stealing a sheep and all that. Yes, I know.’

‘Hanging or transportation, in the case of theft.’

She threw Rachel’s notes down on the table scornfully and picked up Samuel’s manuscript. ‘I’ll read this during the next day or two, then I might be able to do something for you. Quite honestly, if that’s the best you and your friend can do, it looks as though you need me. Otherwise, you’re never going to have anything worth publishing. Next year or at any other time.’

‘That’s great.’

‘Shall we meet up next weekend? How about Sunday?’

‘Well, actually, I’ve got to go and see somebody next Sunday.’

‘Oh?’ She looked at me sharply. ‘Somebody to do with the book?’

‘Yes, a friend of Samuel’s.’

‘Who is this? You haven’t mentioned him before.’

I told her about Godfrey Wheeldon, pleased at the concentrated attention she gave to what I was saying. Though I hadn’t spoken to the man himself, someone at the nursing home had assured me that Mr Wheeldon would be delighted to have visitors.

‘And you think you’ll be able to get anything out of this old man, do you?’