Lynda Plante - The Talisman

Alex let Barbara do exactly as she wanted, content that she was out of his way, for he was in the midst of the takeover of Buchanan House. He had sold off numerous small businesses and was amassing the cash in readiness. He and Edward argued over virtually every sale, every clause, and their terrible rows echoed round the office. Alex was infuriated by his brother, who would appear and disappear at will, always on some deal or other that he had in mind. These were never of interest to Alex, he wanted more and more to move into the City, but Edward kicked against it. ‘Stocks and shares, buddy boy, why get into that, we do all right this way... Someone’s got to do the dirty little deals, and we’re way ahead of everyone else. You start playing the stock market and you’ll get your fingers burnt...’

Alex was insistent, just as his wife was climbing socially so he wanted to have the City’s respect. The Barkley Company had a bad name for under-dealing. Alex wanted to move up and out.

‘Edward, why break your balls on this club, close it, let it go.’

Edward hit the roof, screaming at his brother that if he would just go through the accounts he would see why not. They could launder money through it, cream it, just like the old days.

Trying to keep Edward on the straight and narrow was virtually a full-time job, and a desperate one for Alex. ‘Why? Why, for Chrissake, take these risks? We are legitimate, and yet you always want to branch out into back-alley deals.’

Edward lost patience, snapping at his brother that he had made the Barkley Company, not Alex. He had made it on the backs of his deals, and if Alex didn’t like what he was doing he could go fuck himself and see how well he would do without Edward. The rows between them became a daily occurrence, secretaries and typists would cringe as the bellowing rang through the office. Edward terrified them all, rampaging along the corridors arguing at the top of his voice.

Alex had to spend days trying to fathom out what new moves his brother had made. The Carnaby Street boutiques, which Alex had been against from the first, were going from strength to strength.

‘I got the nose, buddy boy, I got the nose... listen to me, and you’ll be where you want, believe me.’

The office was still in turmoil, with workmen carrying wires and monitor screens in and out of Edward’s office installing his elaborate security system. Every room was fitted with cameras. Edward’s new toys whirred and bleeped, and he was forever rushing down to the basement to check how they worked.

‘How long are these men going to be here, Edward? I’ve got two board meetings this morning, and I don’t want ladders everywhere and white overalls dodging in and out.’

Edward beamed and told Alex it was all completed, dragged him down to the basement. ‘Okay, now take a look — see, we get anyone breaking in and all the guys down here have to do is flick switches... see... There’s now a camera in every room, right? They can check out the place with a couple of switches... bingo!’

Alex looked around the room and sighed. He was beginning to think Edward was paranoid. At times he acted so crazily. His hair was longer than ever, and he wore his denim jeans and cowboy boots every day. While Alex was striving for respectability, Edward was joining in with the ‘Swinging Sixties’. The rock music from Edward’s office was so loud at times that Alex couldn’t hear himself think.

‘Edward, maybe you need some kind of rest, you know?’

Edward swore at him, said he was simply moving with the times.

‘Bit old, aren’t you, to be wandering around like a hippy?’

Edward roared with laughter. ‘Brother... maybe I’m making up for all the lost years of hard labour I put in, so what?’

Alex quietly reminded him that he himself was more than familiar with hard labour. Edward flung his arms around him in one of his crazy gestures. ‘Hey, trust me, you got to trust me, Alex old son. I know what I’m doing — you do your thing, man, and I’ll do mine, okay?’

Alex hesitated, then asked point-blank, ‘She’s bad again, isn’t she? Harry?’

Edward was suddenly deflated, and made a strange, half-hearted gesture. ‘Always comes out at strange times, you know. I was on tenterhooks when the Judge died, but she coped, right as rain. But she’s acting up now... I dunno what to do, Alex, I just don’t. She joined some fringe theatre, all I hear about is this bloody play, she’s obsessed with it... I don’t know if it’s in her mind or what, she’s wearing black from head to foot all the time now, and she’s started shutting herself up in her studio again.’

Alex suggested she should see a doctor.

‘Not as easy as all that, she’s so paranoid.’

‘Well, that makes two of you. With all this equipment you’ve been installing I’d say you were one and the same... if you like, I’ll invite her over, or call and see her.’

‘Sure you can fit her in? With your busy social schedule I’m amazed you have time to get into the office. But thanks and no thanks. How’s your takeover doing?’

Alex was immediately on guard, murmuring that it was going along fine. But Edward was already striding down the corridor, not even interested.

Barbara was not too pleased to be told at the last moment she had two extra guests, Edward and Harriet. She rearranged the table, moved her place cards in a desperate bid to seat Harriet where she would be the least trouble.

Dinner was set for nine o’clock, by eight forty-five there was still no sign of them. Alex called the manor only to be told they had just left. They did not make an appearance until after nine and Barbara was furious. Her guests sat very formally sipping cocktails as Edward, wearing a white tuxedo but no tie, strolled into the sitting room. Harriet remained in the hall wearing what could only be described as an assortment of scarves pulled together to form a dress... she also had one wrapped around her head, but worse than her appearance was the fact that she was holding a pigeon she had found in the drive. She appeared at the door as everyone turned to stare. ‘Edward, what should I do with it? It’s got a clubbed foot! The poor thing’s starving.’

‘Give it to the butler.’

Barbara’s butler, Scargill, turned from handing round the drinks tray. Barbara gave him a look, waved her hand, and knew by now the chef would be throwing a fit in the kitchen. In the end it was Alex who removed the pigeon and took it outside. He simply threw it out of the back door and then assured Harriet it was being fed and cared for.

Dinner was announced and Edward, deep in conversation with a New York banker, sat down in the wrong place. This put all the seating arrangements out, and so it was musical chairs until at last everyone was seated.

The consomme was being served by two white-gloved waiters. Harriet was seated next to a judge, and she fell into a deep conversation about her father and his prostate operation. Everyone had finished their soup and the waiters hovered as Harriet hadn’t touched hers. Edward leaned on his elbow and enquired if she had finished, everyone was waiting. ‘Oh sorry, you can take it away... sorry, Barbara, but we were talking about my father.’

Barbara enquired how Judge Simpson was and Harriet looked astonished. ‘Oh he’s dead, didn’t you know?’ Everyone murmured their condolences, and Alex quickly changed the conversation.

Harriet grew very quiet as she knew nothing about banking, and had no interest in political matters. She couldn’t help but notice how at ease Edward was and felt more than inadequate. She also noted what a very good hostess Barbara was...

As they drove home, Edward yawned. Harriet was biting her nails. He slipped his arm around her shoulders. ‘You went very quiet.’