Jeffrey Archer - Only Time Will Tell

‘Let’s keep in touch, old fellow,’ said Hugo as he climbed into his car. ‘I have no doubt I’ll be calling on the bank’s services again.’ Prendergast smiled.

As Hugo drove towards the city, his thoughts returned to Maisie Clifton. He had dealt her a blow from which she was unlikely to recover, but he now intended to deliver the knockout punch.

He drove into Bristol wondering where she was at that moment. Probably sitting her son down to explain to him why he would have to leave BGS at the end of the summer term. Had she even for one fleeting moment imagined that Harry might be able to continue his studies as if nothing had happened? Hugo decided that he wouldn’t raise the subject with Giles until the boy told him the sad news that his friend Harry would not be returning to BGS to join him in the sixth form.

Even the thought of his own son having to go to Bristol Grammar School still made him pulse with anger, but he had never let Elizabeth or his father know the real reason Giles had failed to get a place at Eton.

Once he’d driven past the cathedral, he continued across College Green before turning into the entrance of the Royal Hotel. He was a few minutes early for his appointment, but he was confident the manager would not keep him waiting. He pushed his way through the revolving doors and strolled across the lobby, not needing to be told where Mr Frampton’s office was.

The manager’s secretary leapt up the moment Hugo entered the room. ‘I’ll let Mr Frampton know you’re here,’ she said, almost running into the adjoining office. The manager appeared a moment later.

‘What a pleasure to see you, Mr Barrington,’ he said, ushering him into his office. ‘I do hope you and Mrs Barrington are both well.’ Hugo nodded and took a seat opposite the hotel manager, but didn’t shake hands.

‘When you asked to see me, I took the liberty of checking over the arrangements for your company’s annual dinner,’ said Frampton. ‘Just over three hundred guests will be attending, I understand?’

‘I have no interest how many guests are attending,’ said Hugo. ‘That isn’t the reason I came to see you, Frampton. I wish to discuss a private matter that I find most distasteful.’

‘I’m very sorry to hear that,’ said Frampton, sitting bolt upright.

‘One of our non-executive directors was staying at the hotel on Thursday night, and the following day he made a most serious allegation that I feel it is my duty to bring to your attention.’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Frampton, rubbing his sweating palms on his trousers. ‘The last thing we would want to do is annoy one of our most valued customers.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Hugo. ‘The gentleman in question checked into the hotel after the restaurant had closed and went into the Palm Court in the hope of being provided with some light refreshment.’

‘A service I myself instituted,’ said Frampton, allowing himself a strained smile.

‘He gave his order to a young lady who appeared to be in charge,’ continued Hugo, ignoring the comment.

‘Yes, that would be our Mrs Clifton.’

‘I’ve no idea who it was,’ said Hugo. ‘However, as she was serving him with a cup of coffee and some sandwiches, another gentleman entered the Palm Court, made an order and asked if it could be sent up to his room. The only thing my friend recalls about the man was that he had a slight Irish accent. My friend then signed his bill and retired for the night. He rose early the following morning, as he wished to have breakfast and go over his papers before the board meeting. When he came out of his room he observed the same woman, still dressed in her hotel uniform, leaving room 371. She then walked to the end of the corridor, climbed through the window and out on to the fire escape.’

‘I’m absolutely appalled, sir. I…’

‘The board member concerned has requested that whenever he comes to Bristol in the future, he should be booked into another hotel. Now, I don’t wish to appear prudish, Frampton, but the Royal has always been somewhere I’ve been happy to bring my wife and children.’

‘Be assured, Mr Barrington, the person concerned will be dismissed immediately, and not supplied with a reference. May I add how grateful I am that you have brought this matter to my attention.’

Hugo rose from his place. ‘Of course, I wouldn’t want any reference made to me or the company should you feel it necessary to dismiss the lady in question.’

‘You can be assured of my discretion,’ said Frampton.

Hugo smiled for the first time. ‘On a happier note, may I say how much we’re all looking forward to the annual dinner, which no doubt will be up to your usual high standard. Next year we’ll be celebrating the company’s centenary, so I feel sure my father will want to push the boat out.’ Both men laughed a little too loudly.

‘You can rely on us, Mr Barrington,’ said Frampton as he followed his client out of the office.

‘And one more thing, Frampton,’ said Hugo, as they walked across the foyer. ‘I’d rather you didn’t say anything to Sir Walter about this. My father can be a little old-fashioned when it comes to such matters, so I think it’s best kept between ourselves.’

‘I couldn’t agree more, Mr Barrington,’ said Frampton. ‘You can be assured I shall deal with the matter personally.’

As Hugo pushed his way back through the revolving doors, he couldn’t help wondering just how many hours Mitchell must have spent at the Royal before he was able to supply him with such a priceless piece of information.

He jumped back into his car, switched on the engine and continued on his journey home. He was still thinking about Maisie Clifton when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He experienced a moment of blind panic as he turned around and saw who was sitting on the back seat. He even wondered if somehow she’d found out about his meeting with Frampton.

‘What do you want?’ he demanded, not slowing down for fear that someone might see them together.

As he listened to her demands, he could only wonder how she was so well informed. Once she’d finished, he readily agreed to her terms, knowing that it would be the easiest way of getting her out of the car.

Mrs Clifton placed a thin brown envelope on the passenger seat next to him. ‘I’ll wait to hear from you,’ she said.

Hugo put the envelope in an inside pocket. He only slowed down when he came to an unlit alley, but didn’t stop until he was certain no one else could see them. He leapt out of the car and opened the back door. When he saw the look on her face, it was clear she felt she’d more than achieved her purpose.

Hugo allowed her a moment of triumph, before he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her as if he was trying to remove an obstinate apple from a tree. Once he’d left her in no doubt what would happen if she ever bothered him again, he punched her in the face with all his strength. She collapsed to the ground curled up into a ball, and didn’t stop shaking. Hugo thought about kicking her in the stomach but didn’t want to risk being witnessed by a passer-by. He drove away without giving her another thought.

On a balmy Thursday afternoon in the Northern Transvaal, I killed eleven men, and a grateful nation awarded me the Victoria Cross for service above and beyond the call of duty. I haven’t had a peaceful night’s sleep since.

If I’d killed one Englishman in my homeland, a judge would have sentenced me to hang by the neck until I was dead. Instead, I have been sentenced to life imprisonment, because I still see the faces of those eleven wretched young men every day, like an image on a coin that never fades. I’ve often considered suicide, but that would be the coward’s way out.