Jeffrey Archer - A Twist in the Tale

Gerald couldn’t believe his ears.

Tumultuous applause greeted a surprised Gerald as he made his way up toward their Majesties. He came to a standstill behind the throned chairs somewhere between the Queen of England and the King of Multavia. The King smiled at the new recipient of the Order of the Peacock (Second Class) as the two men shook hands. But before bestowing the new honor upon him, King Alfons leaned forward and with some difficulty removed from Gerald’s shoulders his Order of the Peacock (Third Class).

‘You won’t be needing this any longer,’ the King whispered in Gerald’s ear.

Gerald watched in horror as his prize possession disappeared into a red leather box held open by the King’s private secretary, who stood poised behind his sovereign. Gerald continued to stare at the private secretary, who was either a diplomat of the highest order or had not been privy to the King’s plan, for his face showed no sign of anything untoward. Once Gerald’s magnificent prize had been safely removed, the box snapped closed like a safe of which Gerald had not been given the combination.

Gerald wanted to protest, but the Queen smiled benignly up at him.

King Alfons then removed from another box the Order of the Peacock (Second Class) and placed it over Gerald’s shoulders. Gerald, staring at the indifferent colored glass stones, hesitated for a few moments before stumbling a pace back, bowing and then returning to his place in the great dining room. He did not hear the waves of applause that accompanied him; his only thought was how he could possibly retrieve his lost chain immediately the speeches were over. He dumped down in the chair next to his wife.

‘And now,’ continued the King, ‘I wish to present a decoration that has not been bestowed on anyone since my late father’s death. The Order of the Peacock (First Class), which it gives me special delight to bestow on Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.’

The Queen rose from her place as the King’s private secretary once again stepped forward. In his hands was held the same red leather case that had snapped shut so firmly on Gerald’s unique possession. The case was reopened and the King removed the magnificent Order from the box and placed it on the shoulders of the Queen. The jewels sparkled in the candlelight and the guests gasped at the sheer magnificence of the piece.

Gerald was the only person in the room who knew its true value.

‘Well, you always said it was fit for a monarch,’ his wife remarked as she touched her string of pearls.

‘Aye,’ said Gerald. ‘But what’s Ramsbottom going to say when he sees this?’ he added sadly, fingering the Order of the Peacock (Second Class). ‘He’ll know it’s not the real thing.’

‘I don’t see it matters that much,’ said Angela.

‘What do you mean, lass?’ asked Gerald. ‘I’ll be the laughingstock of Hull on Mayor-making day.’

‘You should spend more time reading the evening papers, Gerald, and spend less time looking in mirrors and then you’d know Walter isn’t going to be Mayor this year.’

‘Not going to be Mayor?’ repeated Gerald.

‘No. The present Mayor has opted to do a second term so Walter won’t be Mayor until next year.’

‘Is that right?’ said Gerald with a smile.

‘And if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, Gerald Haskins, this time it’s going to cost you a tiara.’

I woke up before him feeling slightly randy but I knew there was nothing I could do about it.

I blinked and my eyes immediately accustomed themselves to the half light. I raised my head and gazed at the large expanse of motionless white flesh lying next to me. If only he took as much exercise as I did he wouldn’t have that spare tire, I thought unsympathetically.

Roger stirred restlessly and even turned over to face me, but I knew he would not be fully awake until the alarm on his side of the bed started ringing. I pondered for a moment whether I could go back to sleep again or should get up and find myself some breakfast before he woke. In the end I settled for just lying still on my side daydreaming, but making sure I didn’t disturb him. When he did eventually open his eyes I planned to pretend I was still asleep — that way he would end up getting breakfast for me. I began to go over the things that needed to be done after he had left for the office. As long as I was at home ready to greet him when he returned from work, he didn’t seem to mind what I got up to during the day.

A gentle rumble emanated from his side of the bed. Roger’s snoring never disturbed me. My affection for him was unbounded, and I only wished I could find the words to let him know. In truth, he was the first man I had really appreciated. As I gazed at his unshaven face I was reminded that it hadn’t been his looks which had attracted me in the pub that night.

I had first come across Roger in the Cat and Whistle, a public house situated on the corner of Mafeking Road. You might say it was our local. He used to come in around eight, order a pint of mild and take it to a small table in the corner of the room just beyond the dartboard. Mostly he would sit alone, watching the darts being thrown toward double top but more often settling in one or five, if they managed to land on the board at all. He never played the game himself, and I often wondered, from my vantage point behind the bar, if he were fearful of relinquishing his favorite seat or just had no interest in the sport.

Then things suddenly changed for Roger — for the better, was no doubt how he saw it — when one evening in early spring a blonde named Madeleine, wearing an imitation fur coat and drinking double gin and its, perched on the stool beside him. I had never seen her in the pub before but she was obviously known locally, and loose bar talk led me to believe it couldn’t last. You see, word was about that she was looking for someone whose horizons stretched beyond the Cat and Whistle.

In fact the affair — if that’s what it ever came to — lasted for only twenty days. I know because I counted every one of them. Then one night voices were raised and heads turned as she left the small stool just as suddenly as she had come. His tired eyes watched her as she walked to a vacant place at the corner of the bar, but he didn’t show any surprise at her departure and made no attempt to pursue her.

Her exit was my cue to enter. I almost leaped from behind the bar and, moving as quickly as dignity allowed, was seconds later sitting on the now empty stool beside him. He didn’t comment and certainly made no attempt to offer me a drink, but the one glance he shot in my direction did not suggest he found me an unacceptable replacement. I looked around to see if anyone else had plans to usurp my position. The men standing round the dartboard didn’t seem to care. Treble seventeen, twelve and a five kept them more than occupied. I glanced toward the bar to check if the boss had noticed my absence, but he was busy taking orders. I saw Madeleine was already sipping a glass of champagne from the pub’s only bottle, purchased by a stranger whose stylish double-breasted blazer and striped bow tie convinced me she wouldn’t be bothering with Roger again. She looked well set for at least another twenty days.

I looked up at Roger — I had known his name for some time, although I had never addressed him as such and I couldn’t be sure that he was aware of mine. I began to flutter my eyelashes in a rather exaggerated way. I felt a little stupid but at least it elicited a gentle smile. He leaned over and touched my cheek, his hands surprisingly gentle. Neither of us felt the need to speak. We were both lonely and it seemed unnecessary to explain why. We sat in silence, he occasionally sipping his beer, I from time to time rearranging my legs, while a few feet from us the darts pursued their undetermined course.