Jeffrey Archer - Mightier than the Sword

“Oh yes, there are so many wonderful shops on Fifth Avenue that have so much more to offer than London, although I did find the whole experience quite exhausting. In fact, when I got back to the ship, I simply collapsed on the bed and fell asleep. And you, Mr. Clifton, did you manage to do any shopping?”

“No, I had an appointment with my publishers, while Emma went in search of a long-lost cousin.”

“Of course, I’d quite forgotten you’re the one who writes novels. I just don’t find the time to read books,” said Priscilla as a bowl of piping hot tomato soup was placed in front of her. “I didn’t order soup,” she said, looking up at the waiter. “I asked for the smoked salmon.”

“I’m sorry, madam,” said the waiter, who removed the soup. While he was still in earshot, Priscilla said, “I suppose it must be quite difficult to recruit experienced staff for a cruise ship.”

“I hope you won’t mind if we start,” said Emma as she picked up her soup spoon.

“Did you catch up with your cousin?” asked Bob.

“Unfortunately not. He was visiting Connecticut, so I joined Harry later, and we were lucky enough to get a couple of tickets for an afternoon concert at Lincoln Center.”

“Who was performing?” asked Bob as a plate of smoked salmon was placed in front of Priscilla.

“Leonard Bernstein, who was conducting his Candide overture, before he played a Mozart piano concerto.”

“I just don’t know how you find the time,” said Priscilla between mouthfuls.

Emma was about to say she didn’t spend her life shopping, but looked up to see Harry frowning at her.

“I once saw Bernstein conducting the LSO at the Royal Festival Hall,” said Bob. “Brahms. Quite magnificent.”

“And did you accompany Priscilla on her exhausting shopping trip up and down Fifth Avenue?” asked Emma.

“No, I checked out the lower East Side, to see if there was any point in trying to break into the American market.”

“And your conclusion?” asked Harry.

“The Americans aren’t quite ready for Bingham’s fish paste.”

“So which countries are ready?” asked Harry.

“Only Russia and India, if the truth be known. And they come with their own problems.”

“Like what?” asked Emma, sounding genuinely interested.

“The Russians don’t like paying their bills, and the Indians often can’t.”

“Perhaps you have a one-product problem?” Emma suggested.

“I’ve thought about diversifying, but—”

“Can we possibly talk about something other than fish paste,” said Priscilla. “After all, we are meant to be on holiday.”

“Of course,” said Harry. “How is Clive?” he asked, regretting his words immediately.

“He’s just fine, thank you,” said Bob, jumping in quickly. “And you must both be so proud of Sebastian being invited to join the board.”

Emma smiled.

“Well, that’s hardly a surprise,” said Priscilla. “Let’s face it, if your mother is the chairman of the company, and your family owns a majority of the stock, frankly you could appoint a cocker spaniel to the board and the rest of the directors would wag their tails.”

Harry thought Emma was about to explode, but luckily her mouth was full, so a long silence followed.

“Is that rare?” Priscilla demanded as a steak was placed in front of her.

The waiter checked her order. “No, madam, it’s medium.”

“I ordered rare. I couldn’t have made it clearer. Take it away and try again.”

The waiter deftly removed the plate without comment, as Priscilla turned to Harry. “Can you make a living as a writer?”

“It’s tough,” admitted Harry, “not least because there are so many excellent authors out there. However—”

“Still, you married a rich woman, so it really doesn’t matter all that much, does it?”

This silenced Harry, but not Emma. “Well, at last we’ve discovered something we have in common, Priscilla.”

“I agree,” said Priscilla, not missing a beat, “but then I’m old-fashioned, and was brought up to believe it’s the natural order of things for a man to take care of a woman. It somehow doesn’t seem right the other way around.” She took a sip of wine, and Emma was about to respond when she added with a warm smile, “I think you’ll find the wine is corked.”

“I thought it was excellent,” said Bob.

“Dear Robert still doesn’t know the difference between a claret and a burgundy. Whenever we throw a dinner party, it’s always left to me to select the wine. Waiter!” she said, turning to the sommelier. “We’ll need another bottle of the Merlot.”

“Yes of course, madam.”

“I don’t suppose you get to the north of England much,” said Bob.

“Not that often,” said Emma. “But a branch of my family hails from the Highlands.”

“Mine too,” said Priscilla. “I was born a Campbell.”

“I think you’ll find that’s the Lowlands,” said Emma, as Harry kicked her under the table.

“I’m sure you’re right, as always,” said Priscilla. “So I know you won’t mind me asking you a personal question.” Bob put down his knife and fork and looked anxiously across at his wife. “What really happened on the first night of the voyage? Because I know the Home Fleet was nowhere to be seen.”

“How can you possibly know that, when you were fast asleep at the time?” said Bob.

“So what do you think happened, Priscilla?” asked Emma, reverting to a tactic her brother often used when he didn’t want to answer a question.

“Some passengers are saying that one of the turbines exploded.”

“The engine room is open for inspection by the passengers at any time,” said Emma. “In fact, I believe there was a well-attended guided tour this morning.”

“I also heard that a bomb exploded in your cabin,” said Priscilla, undaunted.

“You are most welcome to visit our cabin at any time so you can correct the ill-informed rumormonger who suggested that.”

“And someone else told me,” said Priscilla, plowing on, “that a group of Irish terrorists boarded the ship at around midnight—”

“Only to find we were fully booked, and as there wasn’t a cabin available, they were made to walk the plank and swim all the way back to Belfast?”

“And did you hear the one about some Martians flying in from outer space and landing inside one of the funnels?” said Harry, as the waiter reappeared with a rare steak.

Priscilla gave it no more than a glance, before she rose from her place. “You’re all hiding something,” she said, dropping her napkin on the table, “and I intend to find out what it is before we reach Avonmouth.”

The three of them watched as she glided serenely across the floor and out of the dining room.

“I apologize,” said Bob. “That turned out even worse than I feared.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Harry. “My wife snores.”

“I do not,” said Emma, as the two men burst out laughing.

“I’d give half my fortune to have the relationship you two enjoy.”

“I’ll take it,” said Harry. This time it was Emma’s turn to kick her husband under the table.

“Well, I’m grateful for one thing, Bob,” said Emma, reverting to her chairman’s voice. “Your wife clearly has no idea what really happened on our first night at sea. But if she ever found out...”

“I’d like to open this meeting by welcoming my son Sebastian Clifton onto the board.”

Hear, hears echoed around the ballroom.

“While being inordinately proud of his achievement at such a young age, I feel I should warn Mr. Clifton that the rest of the board will be observing his contributions with considerable interest.”