Jeffrey Archer - Only Time Will Tell

‘I am, sir,’ he replied. ‘How can I help you?’

‘We’re looking for Mrs Clifton.’

‘Maisie don’t work here any longer, sir. She must have left at least a couple of years back.’

‘Do you know where she is working now?’

‘I’ve no idea, sir.’

Giles took out his purse, extracted half a crown and placed it on the counter. The porter eyed it for some time before he spoke again. ‘It’s just possible you’ll find her at Eddie’s Nightclub.’

‘Eddie Atkins?’ enquired Harry.

‘I believe that’s correct, sir.’

‘Well, that explains it,’ said Harry. ‘And where is Eddie’s Nightclub?’

‘Welsh Back, sir,’ replied the porter as he pocketed the half a crown.

Harry left the hotel without another word and jumped into the back of a waiting cab. Giles got in beside him. ‘Don’t you think we should get back to school?’ said Giles, looking at his watch. ‘You can always tell your mother in the morning.’

Harry shook his head. ‘It was you who said you’d interrupt your mother even if she was addressing the Mothers’ Union,’ Harry reminded him. ‘Eddie’s Nightclub, Welsh Back, please, cabbie,’ he said firmly.

Harry didn’t speak during the short journey. When the cab turned into a dark alley and came to a halt outside Eddie’s, he got out and walked towards the entrance.

Harry banged firmly on the door. A shutter slid open and a pair of eyes stared at the two young men. ‘The entrance fee is five shillings each,’ said a voice behind the eyes. Giles pushed a ten-shilling note through the hole. The door swung open immediately.

The two of them made their way down a dimly lit staircase to the basement. Giles saw her first and quickly turned to leave, but it was too late. Harry was staring, transfixed, at a row of girls seated on stools at the bar, some chatting to men, others on their own. One of them, wearing a white see-through blouse, a short black leather skirt and black stockings, approached them and said, ‘Can I help you, gents?’

Harry ignored her. His eyes had settled on a woman at the far end of the bar who was listening intently to an older man who had his hand on her thigh. The girl looked to see who he was staring at. ‘I must say, you know class when you see it,’ she said. ‘Mind you, Maisie can be choosy, and I have to warn you, she doesn’t come cheap.’

Harry turned and bolted back up the steps, pulled open the door and ran out on to the street, with Giles chasing after him. Once Harry was on the pavement, he fell to his knees and was violently sick. Giles knelt and put his arm around his friend, trying to comfort him.

A man who had been standing in the shadows on the other side of the road limped away.

I’ll never forget the first time I saw him.

He came to tea at the Manor House to celebrate my brother’s twelfth birthday. He was so quiet and reserved that I wondered how he could possibly be Giles’s best friend. The other one, Deakins, was really strange. He never stopped eating and hardly said a word all afternoon.

And then Harry spoke, a soft, gentle voice that made you want to listen. The birthday party had apparently been going swimmingly until my father burst into the room, and then he hardly spoke again. I’d never known my father to be so off-hand with anyone, and I couldn’t understand why he should behave in that way towards a complete stranger. But even more inexplicable was Papa’s reaction when he asked Harry when his birthday was. How could such an innocuous question bring on such an extreme reaction? A moment later my father got up and left the room, without even saying goodbye to Giles and his guests. I could see that Mama was embarrassed by his behaviour, although she poured another cup of tea and pretended not to notice.

A few minutes later, my brother and his two friends left to go back to school. He turned and smiled at me before leaving, but just like my mother, I pretended not to notice. But when the front door closed I stood by the drawing-room window and watched as the car disappeared down the driveway and out of sight. I thought I saw him looking out of the back window, but I couldn’t be sure.

After they had left, Mama went straight to my father’s study and I could hear raised voices, which had recently become more and more common. When she came back out, she smiled at me as if nothing unusual had happened.

‘What’s the name of Giles’s best friend?’ I asked.

‘Harry Clifton,’ she replied.

The next time I saw Harry Clifton was at the Advent carol service at St Mary Redcliffe. He sang O Little Town of Bethlehem, and my best friend, Jessica Braithwaite, accused me of swooning as if he was the new Bing Crosby. I didn’t bother to deny it. I saw him chatting to Giles after the service and I would have liked to congratulate him, but Papa seemed to be in a hurry to get home. As we left, I saw his nanny giving him a huge hug.

I was also at St Mary Redcliffe the evening his voice broke, but at the time I didn’t understand why so many heads were turning and some members of the congregation began to whisper among themselves. All I know is that I never heard him sing again.

When Giles was driven to the grammar school on his first day, I begged my mother to let me go along, but only because I wanted to meet Harry. But my father wouldn’t hear of it, and despite my bursting into controlled tears, they still left me standing on the top step with my younger sister Grace. I knew Papa was cross about Giles not being offered a place at Eton, something I still don’t understand, because a lot of boys more stupid than my brother passed the exam. Mama didn’t seem to mind which school Giles went to, whereas I was delighted he was going to Bristol Grammar, because it meant I’d have a better chance of seeing Harry again.

In fact I must have seen him at least a dozen times during the next three years, but he was never able to recall any of those occasions, until we met up in Rome.

The family were all staying at our villa in Tuscany that summer when Giles took me to one side and said he needed to ask my advice. He only ever did that when he wanted something. But this time it turned out to be something I wanted just as much as he did.

‘So what are you expecting me to do this time?’ I asked.

‘I need an excuse to go into Rome tomorrow,’ he said, ‘because I’m meant to be meeting up with Harry.’

‘Harry who?’ I said, feigning indifference.

‘Harry Clifton, stupid. He’s on a school trip to Rome and I promised to get away and spend the day with him.’ He didn’t need to spell out that Papa wouldn’t have approved. ‘All you have to do,’ he continued, ‘is ask Mama if she could take you to Rome for the day.’

‘But she’ll need to know why I want to go into Rome.’

‘Tell her you’ve always wanted to visit the Villa Borghese.’

‘Why the Villa Borghese?’

‘Because that’s where Harry will be at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.’

‘But what happens if Mama agrees to take me? Then you’ll be stymied.’

‘She won’t. They’re having lunch with the Hendersons in Arezzo tomorrow, so I’ll volunteer to be your chaperone.’

‘And what do I get in exchange?’ I demanded, as I didn’t want Giles to know how keen I was to see Harry.

‘My gramophone,’ he said.

‘For keeps, or just to borrow?’

Giles didn’t speak for some time. ‘For ever,’ he said reluctantly.

‘Hand it over now,’ I said, ‘or you can forget it.’ To my surprise he did.

I was even more amazed when, the next day, my mother fell for his little ploy. Giles didn’t even have to offer to act as my chaperone; Papa insisted that he accompany me. My deceitful brother made a show of protesting, but finally gave in.