Jeffrey Archer - The Sins of the Father

‘Yes, guv, some geezer offered her two hundred quid for it.’

‘Is that right?’ said Hugo, removing his wallet from an inside pocket. He extracted a crisp five-pound note and laid it on the desk. Hugo remembered the same licking of the lips and the same piggy eyes the last time he’d bribed the man. ‘I want you to make sure, Tancock, that your sister accepts the offer, without the suggestion that I’m in any way involved.’

He slid the five-pound note across the desk.

‘No problem,’ said Stan, no longer looking at the chairman, only at the five-pound note.

‘There will be another of those,’ Hugo said, tapping his wallet, ‘the day she signs the contract.’

‘Consider it done, guv.’

Hugo added casually, ‘I was sorry to hear about your nephew.’

‘Don’t make much odds to me,’ said Stan. ‘Got far too big for his boots, in my opinion.’

‘Buried at sea, I was told.’

‘Yeah, more’n two years back.’

‘How did you find out?’

‘Ship’s doctor came to visit me sister, didn’t he.’

‘And was he able to confirm that young Clifton was buried at sea?’

‘Sure did. Even brought a letter from some mate who was on board the ship when Harry died.’

‘A letter?’ said Hugo leaning forward. ‘What did this letter say?’

‘No idea, guv. Maisie never opened it.’

‘So what did she do with the letter?’

‘Still on the mantelpiece isn’t it?’

Hugo extracted another five-pound note.

‘I’d like to see that letter.’

HUGO THREW ON the brakes of his new Lagonda when he heard a paperboy shouting his name from a street corner.

‘Sir Hugo Barrington’s son decorated for gallantry at Tobruk. Read all about it!’

Hugo leapt out of his car, handed the paperboy a halfpenny and looked at a photograph of his son when he was school captain of Bristol Grammar that dominated the front page. He climbed back into his car, turned off the ignition and read all about it.

Second Lieutenant Giles Barrington of the 1st Battalion, the Wessex, son of Sir Hugo Barrington Bt, has been awarded the Military Cross following action in Tobruk. Lt Barrington led a platoon across eighty yards of open desert, killing a German officer and five other soldiers, before over-running an enemy dugout and capturing 63 German infantry men from Rommel’s crack Afrika Korps. Lt/Col. Robertson of the Wessex described Lt Barrington’s action as displaying remarkable leadership and selfless courage in the face of overwhelming odds.

2/Lt Barrington’s platoon commander, Captain Alex Fisher, also an Old Bristolian, was involved in the same action, and mentioned in dispatches, as was Corporal Terry Bates, a local butcher from Broad Street. Lt Giles Barrington MC was later captured by the Germans when Rommel sacked Tobruk. Neither Barrington, nor Bates, is aware of their award for gallantry, because both of them are currently prisoners of war in Germany. Captain Fisher has been reported as missing in action. Full story pages 6 & 7.

Hugo sped home to share the news with his mother.

‘How proud Walter would have been,’ she said once she’d finished reading the report. ‘I must call Elizabeth immediately, in case she hasn’t heard the news.’

It was the first time anyone had mentioned his former wife’s name for a long while.

‘I thought you’d be interested to know,’ said Mitchell, ‘that Mrs Clifton is wearing an engagement ring.’

‘Who would want to marry that bitch?’

‘A Mr Arnold Holcombe, it seems.’

‘Who’s he?’

‘A schoolmaster. Teaches English at Merrywood Elementary. In fact, he used to teach Harry Clifton before he went to St Bede’s.’

‘But that was years ago. Why haven’t you mentioned his name before?’

‘They’ve only recently met up again, when Mrs Clifton began attending evening classes.’

‘Evening classes?’ repeated Hugo.

‘Yes,’ said Mitchell. ‘She’s been learning to read and write. Seems she’s a chip off the young block.’

‘What do you mean?’ snapped Hugo.

‘When the class took their final exam at the end of the course, she came top.’

‘Did she now?’ said Hugo. ‘Perhaps I should visit Mr Holcombe and let him know exactly what his fiancée was up to during the years he lost touch with her.’

‘Perhaps I should mention that Holcombe boxed for Bristol University, as Stan Tancock found to his cost.’

‘I can handle myself,’ said Hugo. ‘Meanwhile I want you to keep an eye on another woman, who just might prove every bit as dangerous for my future as Maisie Clifton.’

Mitchell removed a tiny notebook and pencil from an inside pocket.

‘Her name is Olga Piotrovska, and she lives in London, at number forty-two Lowndes Square. I need to know everyone she comes into contact with, particularly if she’s ever interviewed by any members of your former profession. Spare no details, however trivial or unpleasant you may consider them.’

Once Hugo had finished speaking, the notebook and pencil disappeared. He then handed Mitchell an envelope, a sign that the meeting was over. Mitchell slipped his pay packet into his jacket pocket, stood up and limped away.

Hugo was surprised how quickly he became bored with being chairman of Barrington’s. Endless meetings to attend, countless papers to read, minutes to be circulated, memos to be considered, and a stack of mail that should have been replied to by return of post. And on top of that, before he left every evening, Miss Potts would hand him a briefcase bulging with even more papers that had to be gone over by the time he was back behind his desk at eight the following morning.

Hugo invited three chums to join the board, including Archie Fenwick and Toby Dunstable, in the hope that they would lessen his load. They rarely showed up for meetings, but still expected to receive their stipend.

As the weeks passed, Hugo began turning up at the office later and later, and after Bill Lockwood reminded the chairman that it was only a few days to his sixtieth birthday, when he would be retiring, Hugo capitulated and said that he’d decided Lockwood could stay on for another couple of years.

‘How kind of you to reconsider my position, chairman,’ said Lockwood. ‘But I feel that, having served the company for almost forty years, the time has come for me to make way for a younger man.’

Hugo cancelled Lockwood’s farewell party.

That younger man was Ray Compton, Lockwood’s deputy, who had only been with the company for a few months, and certainly hadn’t got his feet under the table. When he presented Barrington’s year results to the board, Hugo accepted for the first time that the company was only just breaking even, and agreed with Compton that the time had come to start laying off some of the dock labourers before the company couldn’t afford to pay their wages.

As Barrington’s fortunes dwindled, the nation’s future looked more hopeful.

With the German army retreating from Stalingrad the British people began to believe for the first time that the Allies could win the war. Confidence in the future started to seep back into the nation’s psyche as theatres, clubs and restaurants began to reopen all over the country.

Hugo longed to be back in town and to rejoin his social set, but Mitchell’s reports continued to make it clear that London was one city he’d be wise to steer clear of.

The year 1943 didn’t begin well for Barrington’s.