Lynda Plante - The Talisman

He worked like a man possessed — he was everywhere, like a whirlwind. He seemed to have inexhaustible wealth, and soon the City was taking notice of Edward Barkley. The property company had expanded, and he was buying up land at such a rate that he swung the property boom even higher, and in doing so doubled his profits. The small building yard had now grown into a vast concern with over two hundred employees. Edward bought, rebuilt fast and sold. He used bombed-out areas as car parks, and with only one man required to sit in a small hut and take the money, it was an easy, lucrative business — one speculators began to watch out for. Edward Barkley had fingers in every pie, and yet no one seemed to know where he had come from.

Edward needed little sleep, often working right through the night in his office. He went through the stacks of files he had taken from the old Masks Club. Dora’s notes made more than interesting reading. Her lists of clients were what attracted him — not the ordinary customers but her own private business. Edward thumbed through the pages and what he found made him laugh aloud. ‘Dora, Dora Harris, you little slut... You lovely little muckraker!’ The lists contained not only the names, but also their references. From judges to politicians, film stars to the landed gentry and, under ‘R’ — the royals. With the lists were carefully documented films, tapes, photographs. Edward knew he had a small goldmine, and he was going to tap it to exhaustion.

The following morning Edward met with his PR company. There were now some extra names he wished to add to his guest list for the party at the chateau, ones he knew would not be able to refuse, thanks to Dora. However, they would be dependent on very high society names accepting the Barkleys’ invitation in order to swing them into the upper echelons on both sides of the Atlantic. If the Windsors agreed to be present, the floodgates would open.

The Duke and Duchess of Windsor now resided in the south of France with a hard core of both English and French society surrounding them like an army. It was known that the royals were not above being paid to make an appearance, and Edward suggested a possible approach on those lines. He was told, however, that Mr Barkley did not even warrant that.

Edward refused to take no for an answer, knowing that with the Duke and Duchess making a social appearance his and Alex’s names would be placed on society lists throughout the world. He persisted, never actually negotiating appearance fees, but offering vast amounts to charities the royal couple were known to lend their names to, and eventually he received a short cryptic note of acceptance. It was now ensured that the party would be one of the biggest and most aristocratic of the season. With the royal couple as bait, acceptances would be assured.

The preparations reached fever pitch. Teams of waiters and caterers flocked over the lawns, blooms were shipped in from all over the world for the ornate floral displays. The society columns had a field day, quoting the names of the guests, and soon there was a scramble for invitations to the opening of the chateau.

One hundred waiters and eighteen chefs had been inspected, and everything was ready. Edward admired himself in his dressing-table mirror, then went to see Alex.

‘Oh, you’re wearing a white tux, well...’

Alex looked far more sophisticated in the new, fashionable white tuxedo. Edward fingered the collar, stepped back to get a better look. ‘Excellent fit, who’s your tailor?’

Alex laughed, and told him that was rather a dated expression, his designer was a young Frenchman. Edward immediately took another look at himself. ‘Do I look all right, then?’

Alex nodded. He was more worried about his greetings to the royals, going over his carefully rehearsed instructions yet again.

‘Right, this is it, Alex. Let’s get it over with — we walk down together, okay, side by side.’

The two brothers moved to the head of the staircase and began to walk down to greet their guests.

Alex wondered how on earth he had arrived at this point in his life. He felt strange, ill at ease, and part of him knew that this was a turning point in his life. He didn’t want to let Edward down in front of their three hundred guests, but he felt like an actor about to open in his first play, shaking with first-night nerves. He wished he had someone he could at least feel close to, someone he could associate with, but there was no one. Did he want this charade? He didn’t know, couldn’t fathom how he felt, and suddenly it was too late for doubts.

He stood at his brother’s side, shaking hands and welcoming everyone, knowing no one. Time and time again Edward gestured for Alex to join him in a throng of people, and he smiled shyly, shaking hands, his face stiff from smiling and bowing and thanking everyone for their congratulations. He felt exhausted.

The party was going without a hitch, but there was tension as the guests waited for the Windsors to make their appearance. They murmured to each other, constantly watching the brothers, but were polite and cordial at the same time as they consumed vast quantities of champagne and the delicious food.

The Duke and Duchess of Windsor arrived two hours later, and set the chateau buzzing as everyone took sneaky looks at the couple standing talking to Edward Barkley. Alex was brought over to meet them, and was so desperately shy he could say nothing. The Duchess asked to be given a tour of the chateau, and Edward, about to lead them into the lounge, froze. ‘Please excuse me, Your Grace... Alex, please...’

Alex gestured for the couple to walk ahead of him, glancing at Edward for a moment, afraid to be left alone with them. ‘Edward, you all right?’

‘I’m fine, I’ll join you. Go on, don’t keep them waiting.’

Edward’s heart was pounding. He was sure, sure he had seen Harriet. He threaded his way among the guests, shaking hands automatically and smiling his thanks at their compliments. He reached the far end of the marquee, stared around. He told himself he must be mistaken, why would she be here? But he couldn’t stop searching every face. Memories flooded through him, swept over him. He had once read her name in a society magazine, and had even thought about trying to contact her, but decided against it. He straightened his bow tie, and was about to hurry back to Alex when he heard her laugh.

Harriet was standing with her back to Edward, wearing a simple white cotton dress. Edward could see the freckles on her back, even though she was tanned to a wonderful golden colour. She had a glass of champagne in one hand and a small white clutch bag in the other. Pierre Rochal was at her side and he, too, was laughing. One of their party turned and saw Edward.

‘Oh, you must let me introduce you... this is Edward Barkley, our esteemed host — Edward, come and meet some dear friends of mine.’

Harriet turned. As she was introduced, she tossed her champagne glass over her shoulder. It was an unconscious gesture as she held her hand out. Everyone thought it was very amusing, except for an elderly gentleman who looked on in stunned amazement.

‘We are gatecrashers, you don’t mind, do you?’ said Harriet brazenly. ‘Only, we couldn’t resist Jasper when he said we could tag along. Do you know Dr Pierre Rochal? And this is Daisy Millingford... and, oh, I’m so sorry, I’ve forgotten your name?’

A blonde woman introduced herself, nudging Harriet in irritation as they had been at school together. The moment of forgetfulness was the only indication Harriet gave that she was shocked at seeing Edward again. She showed no interest in him, and soon made her way to the buffet. Edward excused himself and followed. He stood behind her as she surveyed the vast spread of food and one of the staff stood poised to serve her. Harriet picked up a chicken leg and bit into it.