Lynda Plante - The Talisman

Padding across to the record player he selected an album, dusted the record off, and put it on the turntable. Jimi Hendrix — ‘All Along The Watch Tower’. Edward swung his hips and danced, singing along at the top of his voice.

Way up at the top of the house, Dewint cocked an ear to the music and Edward’s loud singing. He closed his eyes. ‘Dear God,’ he thought, ‘not again. Why can’t he play something soft and gentle?’ If it wasn’t this record it was Bob Dylan and his ruddy ‘Tambourine Man’. It appeared that Mr Barkley was swinging along through the sixties with a vengeance.

Everyone said ‘good morning’ to Alex: the receptionist, the doorman, and the lift man. The lift doors opened as Miss Henderson was walking by with a thick pile of letters.

‘Mr Barkley’s waiting in his office, sir, I’ll bring coffee.’

Alex pursed his lips and let himself into his own office. Putting his briefcase down he took off his raincoat, hung it carefully on a bronze coat stand, checked his hair and tie and then walked along the corridor to his brother’s office.

Edward was on the phone when Alex entered, and waved him in, paying no other attention to him. ‘Well, if it’s a popular street we’ll make it even more so, run a string of boutiques along the whole length of it, stocking all the newfangled gear the kids want... Yeah, okay, I’ll be in touch.’ Replacing the receiver, he clapped his hands. ‘We’re going into the fashion business, Alex. I’ve been reading all these mags, the Carnaby Street boutiques are doing a roaring trade — fancy the mini-skirts myself... How you doing, old fella, long time no see?’

Alex couldn’t speak, he simply stared. The cowboy boots, the denims, they were not the reason... Edward, with his long hair, looked like a ghost.

‘What the hell’s the matter? The gear? Don’t worry about it, I’ll get organized soon... Alex?’

His face white, Alex dropped into the chair opposite his brother’s. He swallowed, Edward carried on talking, heaving files on to his desk and slapping the top one. ‘We got trouble, eh? They want to close the club down, right? Fucking bastards... I’ll find a way round it, Jesus, what the hell is the matter with you?’

Alex snapped at him that perhaps he should take a look in the mirror. If it was some kind of joke, it was sick. ‘We build this whole thing up and for what, you want the world to know, is that it? You changed your tune, look at you — Freedom, want me to start calling you Freedom?’

Edward ran his hands through his long hair, then he leaned back in his chair and roared with laughter. The gold chain was visible round his neck; with his tan he looked fit.

‘Oh, Jesus, Alex, it never occurred to me, I just never bothered to cut it... hey, easy, take it easy, man, I’ll get it cut... we gotta talk business now, and fast.’

Barbara was furious. She had changed her dress eighteen times, had her hair done, and was about to set out for the Ritz when Alex called to say the lunch was cancelled. He gave no reason, irritated at her questions.

‘When do I get to meet him, then?’

Covering the phone with his hand, Alex asked Edward if he would be available for dinner that evening. Edward, caught up in the mound of files, shrugged. ‘Come over to my place, we’ll eat there, meet her there, right now we’ve got more important things to discuss...’

He swung back and forth in his chair, and then stuck a match between his lips and cocked his head to one side. ‘So you want to buy in, eh? Fine by me, but I want the money placed in a bank in Geneva, this wife of yours arrange that? And the other condition is, as partners, we go hand in glove, no cheque, no letter, not one document leaves this building without a double signature. You agree to that, then let’s get the lawyers in and away we go.’

Alex agreed readily, and they spent the rest of the morning discussing their massive network of business activities. One by one. They were only a quarter of the way through when Edward threw in the towel, yawned and said he had had enough. ‘We have to start selling, Edward. Lot of these small businesses take up too much time, and with the club going bust on us we’ll need more funds to lay out on certain projects we’ve not yet discussed. But the more of the smaller businesses we release the more finances we’ll have to buy bigger concerns. I think we should put in a bid for Buchanan House, they have a tremendous turnover and they are on the market right now.’

Edward sniffed, then concentrated on the heel of his cowboy boot. ‘Why, if Buchanan House has such a big turnover, do they want to sell; it doesn’t quite add up?’

With pride, Alex handed him a neat file. ‘They don’t, not yet, but I have inside information that there’s one hell of a family feud going on. We can buy a major stake, they have guaranteed three other members of the family will follow suit — it’s all here, Edward, read for yourself.’

Edward yawned, picked up the file and scratched his head. ‘I’ll take a look at it at home, see you around.’

‘Edward, we’ll be over about eight-thirty, is that all right?’

Edward shrugged his shoulders and walked out.

As Alex returned to his office he overheard Edward at the reception desk, asking about the new security system he had ordered to be installed.

‘They had begun work, sir, but we were unsure about certain specifications you had made, and they have to wait for some parts to come from Japan...’ Edward swore, and then the doors banged closed.

‘What was that about the security system?’

The receptionist explained that Mr Barkley had requested monitor cameras to be wired into all the offices, and then the night watchmen would be able to watch on screens in the basement.

It was already after eight when Edward returned home. He had been discussing the security system with the company, and was armed with a vast number of leaflets. He bellowed for Dewint. ‘I’ll have something to eat in the bedroom, I’m... shit! Look, can you knock up some kind of meal, my brother’s coming over, anything’ll do...’

Edward could hear Alex’s Rolls coming up the drive, and he swore, tossing the leaflets aside. He hadn’t bathed, changed, nothing... ‘Dewint, they’re here, get them drinks and I’ll be down.’

Barbara was wearing a sequinned, full-length white evening gown, off the shoulder on one side, a single sleeve on the other side reaching to a point on the back of her hand. The skirt fluted out from the knee, and she carried a matching sequinned handbag and a silver-fox wrap. Alex was dressed in a white evening suit and black tie, more to suit Barbara than for Edward. He had told Barbara little, just that Edward was as difficult as ever but had agreed to the buy-in, and was considering the Buchanan House deal.

Dewint served chilled champagne and murmured that Mr Edward would be down shortly. Then he shot up the stairs to warn Edward to dress, and found him still soaking in the bath.

‘Are you expecting any other guests, sah? They are wearing formal attire.’

Edward swore, heaved himself out of the bath and grabbed the proffered towel. Then he fetched his address book. ‘Call a few regulars, some from a show, and tell them to come on later — make it about eight to ten of them, okay?’

‘Would that be for dinner, sah?’

Pulling out clothes from the closet, Edward told Dewint just to get a few faces along after they had dined.

‘Stars, Dewint, look under “S” for stars, they’ll be here.’

Dewint hovered, squinting at Edward’s scrawling writing and shook his head as Edward held up a grey suit.

‘I don’t think so, sah, they are, as I said, dressed.’