“And Lord Glenarthur is in cabin three. I looked him up in Who’s Who. He’s eighty-four, and was married to the sister of Lord Harvey, so must be the chairman’s great-uncle.”
“Why has he got a Do not disturb sign on his door?” asked the colonel.
“He told the steward he was exhausted after the long journey from Scotland.”
“Did he now?” said the colonel. “Still, we’d better keep an eye on him, although I can’t imagine what use the IRA would have for an eighty-four-year-old.”
The door opened, and they all looked around to see the chaplain enter. He smiled warmly at the four men, who were on their knees holding prayer books.
“Can I be of any assistance?” he asked as he walked up the aisle toward them.
“No, thank you, padre,” said the colonel. “We were just leaving.”
47
“AM I EXPECTED to wear a dinner jacket tonight?” asked Harry after he’d finished unpacking.
“No. The dress code is always informal on the first and last nights.”
“And what does that mean, because it seems to change with each generation.”
“For you, a suit and tie.”
“Will anyone be joining us for dinner?” asked Harry as he took his only suit out of the wardrobe.
“Giles, Seb and Sam, so it’s just family.”
“So is Sam now considered family?”
“Seb seems to think so.”
“Then he’s a lucky boy. Although I must confess I’m looking forward to getting to know Bob Bingham better. I hope we’ll have dinner with him and his wife one evening. What’s her name?”
“Priscilla. But be warned, they couldn’t be more different.”
“What do you mean?”
“I won’t say anything until you’ve met her, and then you can judge for yourself.”
“Sounds intriguing, although ‘be warned’ has to be a clue. In any case, I’ve already decided that Bob is going to fill several pages of my next book.”
“As a hero or a villain?”
“Haven’t decided yet.”
“What’s the theme?” asked Emma as she opened the wardrobe.
“William Warwick and his wife are on holiday aboard a luxury liner.”
“And who murders who?”
“The poor downtrodden husband of the chairman of the shipping line murders his wife, and runs off with the ship’s cook.”
“But William Warwick would solve the crime long before they reached port, and the wicked husband would spend the rest of his life in jail.”
“No he wouldn’t,” said Harry as he selected which of his two ties he would wear for dinner. “Warwick has no authority to arrest him on board ship, so the husband gets away with it.”
“But if it was an English vessel, her husband would be subject to English law.”
“Ah, there’s the twist. For tax reasons the ship sails under a flag of convenience, Liberia in this case, so all he has to do is bribe the local police chief and the case never gets to court.”
“Brilliant,” said Emma. “Why didn’t I think of that? It would solve all my problems.”
“You think that if I murdered you, it would solve all your problems?”
“No, you idiot. But not having to pay any tax might. I think I’ll put you on the board.”
“If you did that, I would murder you,” said Harry, taking her in his arms.
“A flag of convenience,” repeated Emma. “I wonder how the board would react to that idea?” She took two dresses out of the cupboard and held them up. “Which one, the red or the black?”
“I thought you said it was casual tonight.”
“For the chairman, it’s never casual,” she said as they heard a knock.
“Of course it isn’t,” said Harry. He walked across to open the door and was greeted by the senior steward.
“Good evening, sir. Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother has sent flowers for the chairman,” said Braithwaite, as if it happened every day.
“Lilies no doubt,” said Harry.
“How did you know that?” asked Emma as a heavily built young man entered the room carrying a large vase of lilies.
“The first flowers the Duke of York gave her, long before she became Queen.”
“Would you put them on the table in the center of the cabin,” Emma said to the young man as she looked at the card that had come with the flowers. She was about to thank him, but he’d already left.
“What does the card say?” asked Harry.
“‘Thank you for a memorable day in Bristol. I do hope my second home has a successful maiden voyage.’”
“What an old pro,” said Harry.
“Very thoughtful of her,” said Emma. “I don’t suppose the flowers will last much beyond New York, Braithwaite, but I’d like to keep the vase. A sort of keepsake.”
“I could replace the lilies while you’re ashore in New York, chairman.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Braithwaite. Thank you.”
* * *
“Emma tells me you want to be the next chairman of the board,” said Giles, taking a seat at the bar.
“Which board did she have in mind?” asked Sebastian.
“I presumed Barrington’s.”
“No, I think Mother still has a few gallons left in the tank. But if she asked me, I might consider joining the board.”
“That’s most considerate of you,” said Giles as the barman placed a whiskey and soda in front of him.
“No, I’m more interested in Farthings.”
“Don’t you think twenty-four is perhaps a little young to be chairman of a bank?”
“You’re probably right, which is why I’m trying to persuade Mr. Hardcastle not to retire before he’s seventy.”
“But you’d still only be twenty-nine.”
“That’s four years older than you were when you first entered Parliament.”
“True, but I didn’t become a minister until I was forty-four.”
“Only because you joined the wrong party.”
Giles laughed. “Perhaps you’ll end up in the House one day, Seb?”
“If I do, Uncle Giles, you’ll have to look across the floor if you hope to see me, because I’ll be sitting on the benches opposite. And in any case, I intend to make my fortune before I consider climbing that particular greasy pole.”
“And who is this beautiful creature?” asked Giles, climbing off his stool as Sam joined them.
“This is my girlfriend, Sam,” said Sebastian, unable to mask his pride.
“You could have done better,” Giles said, smiling at her.
“I know,” said Sam, “but a poor immigrant girl can’t be too fussy.”
“You’re American,” said Giles.
“Yes. I think you know my father, Patrick Sullivan.”
“I do indeed know Pat, and I hold him in the highest regard. In fact, I’ve always thought that London is nothing more than a stepping stone in his already glittering career.”
“That’s exactly how I feel about Sebastian,” said Sam, taking his hand. Giles laughed as Emma and Harry walked into the grill room.
“What’s the joke?” asked Emma.
“Sam has just put your son properly in his place. I could marry this wench for this device,” said Giles, giving Sam a bow.
“Oh, I don’t think Sebastian is at all like Sir Toby Belch,” said Sam. “Come to think of it, he’s like Sebastian.”
“So too could I,” said Emma.
“No,” said Harry. “So could I too. And ask no other dowry with her, but such another jest.”
“I’m lost,” said Sebastian.
“As I said, Sam, you could have done better. But I’m sure you’ll explain it to Seb later. By the way, Emma,” said Giles, “knockout dress. Red suits you.”
“Thank you, Giles. I’ll be wearing blue tomorrow, when you’ll have to think of another line.”
“Can I get you a drink, chairman?” te
ased Harry, who was desperate for a gin and tonic.
“No, thank you, darling. I’m famished, so why don’t we go and sit down.”
Giles winked at Harry. “I did warn you when we were twelve to avoid the women, but you chose to ignore my advice.”
As they made their way to a table in the center of the room, Emma stopped to chat to Ross and Jean Buchanan. “I see you got your wife back, Ross, but what about your car?”
“By the time I went back to Edinburgh a few days later,” said Ross, rising from his place, “it was locked up in a police pound. It cost me a fortune to retrieve it.”
“Not as much as these,” said Jean, touching a string of pearls.
“A get-me-off-the-hook present,” explained Ross.
“And you got the company off the hook at the same time,” said Emma, “for which we’ll always be grateful.”
“Don’t thank me,” said Ross, “thank Cedric.”
“I wish he’d felt able to come on the voyage,” said Emma.
* * *
“Were you hoping for a boy or a girl?” asked Sam as the head waiter pulled back a chair for her.
“I didn’t give Gwyneth a choice,” said Giles. “Told her it had to be a boy.”
“Why?”
“For purely practical reasons. A girl can’t inherit the family title. In England, everything has to pass through the male line.”
“How archaic,” said Sam. “And I always thought of the British as being such a civilized race.”
“Not when it comes to primogeniture,” said Giles. The three men rose from their seats as Emma arrived at the table.
“But Mrs. Clifton is chairman of the board of Barrington’s.”
“And we have a queen on the throne. But don’t worry, Sam, we’ll defeat those old reactionaries in the end.”
“Not if my party gets back into power,” said Sebastian.
“When the dinosaurs will be on the roam again,” said Giles, looking at him.
“Who said that?” asked Sam.
“The man who defeated me.”
* * *
Brendan didn’t knock on the door, just turned the handle and slipped inside, looking back as he did so to be sure no one had seen him. He didn’t want to have to explain what a young man from cabin class was doing in an elderly peer’s room at that time of night. Not that anyone would have commented.
“Are we likely to be interrupted?” asked Brendan, once he had closed the door.
“No one will disturb us before seven tomorrow morning, and by then there will be nothing left to disturb.”
“Good,” said Brendan. He dropped on his knees, unlocked the large trunk, pulled open its lid and studied the complex piece of machinery that had taken him over a month to construct. He spent the next half hour checking that there were no loose wires, that every dial was at its correct setting and that the clock started at the flick of a switch. Not until he was satisfied that everything was in perfect working order did he get back off his knees.
“It’s all ready,” he said. “When do you want it activated?”
“Three a.m. And I’ll need thirty minutes to remove all this,” Glenarthur added, touching his double chin, “and still have enough time to get to my other cabin.”
Brendan returned to the trunk and set the timer for three o’clock. “All you have to do is flick the switch just before you leave, and double-check that the second hand is moving.”
“So what can go wrong?”
“If the lilies are still in her cabin, nothing. No one on this corridor, and probably no one on the deck below can hope to survive. There’s six pounds of dynamite embedded in the earth beneath those flowers, far more than we need, but that way we can be sure of collecting our money.”
“Have you got my key?”
“Yes,” said Brendan. “Cabin seven zero six. You’ll find your new passport and ticket under the pillow.”
“Anything else I ought to be worrying about?”
“No. Just make sure the second hand is moving before you leave.”
Glenarthur smiled. “See you back in Belfast. And if we should end up in the same lifeboat, ignore me.”
Brendan nodded, walked across to the door and opened it slowly. He peered out into the corridor. No sign of anyone returning to their cabins from dinner. He walked quickly to the end of the corridor and pushed open a door marked Only to be used in an emergency. He closed the door quietly behind him and walked down the noisy metal steps. He didn’t pass anyone on the staircase. In about five hours’ time, those steps would be crammed with panicking people wondering if the ship had hit an iceberg.
When he reached deck seven, he pushed the emergency door open and checked again. Still no one in sight. He made his way along the narrow corridor and back to his cabin. A few people were returning to their rooms after dinner, but no one showed the slightest interest in him. Over the years, Brendan had turned anonymity into an art form. He unlocked the door of his cabin, and once he was inside collapsed on to the bed, job done. He checked his watch: 9:50 p.m. It was going to be a long wait.
* * *
“Someone slipped into Lord Glenarthur’s cabin just after nine,” said Hartley, “but I haven’t seen him come out yet.”
“It could have been the steward.”
“Unlikely, colonel, because there was a Do not disturb sign on the door, and anyway, whoever it was didn’t knock. In fact, he went in as if it was his own cabin.”
“Then you’d better keep an eye on that door, and if anyone comes out, make sure you don’t lose sight of them. I’m going to check on Crann down in cabin class and see if he’s got anything to report. If not, I’m going to try and catch a few hours’ shut-eye. I’ll take over from you at two. If anything happens that you’re not sure about, don’t hesitate to wake me.”
* * *
“So what have you got planned for us when we get to New York?” asked Sebastian.
“We’ll only be in the Big Apple for thirty-six hours,” replied Sam, “so we can’t afford to waste a moment. In the morning we’ll visit the Metropolitan Museum, followed by a brisk walk around Central Park and then lunch at Sardi’s. In the afternoon we’ll go on to the Frick, and in the evening Dad’s got us a couple of tickets for Hello, Dolly! with Carol Channing.”
“So, no time to shop?”
“I’ll allow you to walk up and down Fifth Avenue, but only to window-shop. You couldn’t even afford a Tiffany’s box, let alone what I’d expect you to put in it. But if you want a memento of your visit, we’ll head across to Macy’s at West Thirty-fourth Street, where you can choose from a thousand items at less than a dollar.”
“Sounds about my expenditure level. By the way, what’s the Frick?”
“Your sister’s favorite art gallery.”
“But Jessica never visited New York.”
“That wouldn’t have stopped her knowing every picture in every room. You’ll see her all-time favorite there.”
“Vermeer, Girl Interrupted at Her Music.”
“Not bad,” said Sam.
“One more question before I switch the light off. Who is Sebastian?”
“He’s not Viola.”
* * *
“Sam’s quite something, isn’t she?” said Emma as she and Harry left the grill room and walked back up the grand staircase to their cabin on the premier deck.
“And Seb can thank Jessica for that,” said Harry as he took her hand.
“I wish she was with us on this trip. By now she would have drawn everyone, from the captain on the bridge, to Braithwaite serving afternoon tea, and even Perseus.”
Harry frowned as they walked silently down the corridor together. Not a day went by when he didn’t reproach himself for not having told Jessica the truth about who her father was.
“Have you come across the gentleman in cabin three?” asked Emma, breaking into his thoughts.
“Lord Glenarthur? No, but I saw his name on the passenger list.”
“Cou
ld he be the same Lord Glenarthur who was married to my great-aunt Isobel?”
“Possibly. We met him once when we stayed at your grandfather’s castle in Scotland. Such a gentle man. He must be well over eighty by now.”
“I wonder why he decided to come on the maiden voyage and not let us know?”
“He probably didn’t want to bother you. Let’s invite him to dinner tomorrow night. After all, he’s the last link with that generation.”
“Nice idea, my darling,” said Emma. “I’ll write him a note and slip it under his door first thing in the morning.” Harry unlocked the cabin door and stood aside to let her in.
“I’m exhausted,” said Emma, bending down to smell the lilies. “I don’t know how the Queen Mother manages it day in and day out.”
“It’s what she does, and she’s good at it, but I bet she’d be exhausted if she tried a few days of being chairman of Barrington’s.”
“I’d still rather have my job than hers,” said Emma as she stepped out of her dress, and hung it up in the wardrobe before disappearing into the bathroom.
Harry read the card from HRH the Queen Mother once again. Such a personal message. Emma had already decided to put the vase in her office when they got back to Bristol, and to fill it with lilies every Monday morning. Harry smiled. And why not?
When Emma came out of the bathroom, Harry took her place and closed the door behind him. She slipped off her dressing gown and climbed into bed, far too tired even to consider reading a few pages of The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, by a new author Harry had recommended. She switched off the light by the side of her bed and said, “Good night, darling,” even though she knew Harry couldn’t hear her.
By the time Harry came out of the bathroom, she was sound asleep. He tucked her in as if she were a child, kissed her on the forehead and whispered, “Good night, my darling,” then climbed into his bed, amused by her gentle purr. He would never have dreamed of suggesting that she snored.
He lay awake, so proud of her. The launch couldn’t have gone better. He turned on his side, assuming he’d drift off within moments but, although his eyes were leaden and he felt exhausted, he couldn’t get to sleep. Something wasn’t right.