“In my opinion, you have two choices,” said Seb. “You can come back home and find out if it’s possible to pick up the pieces, or you can leave, and return to your other life.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Jessica, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I know what I did was unforgivable. I don’t want to go back, and I promise I’ll do everything I can to make it up to both of you if you’ll just give me another chance.”
“Of course we will,” said Samantha, “but I can’t speak for the Slade.”
* * *
Sebastian left the flat a couple of hours later to pick up an early edition of The Evening Standard. The headline screamed out at him from a poster long before he’d reached the newsagent:
HEALTH MINISTER’S GRANDDAUGHTER INVOLVED IN DRUGS SCANDAL
He read the article as he walked slowly back home. It included almost all of the details Jessie had volunteered earlier. A night spent in a police cell, champagne, marijuana, two bottles of expensive wine followed by brandy Alexanders consumed at Annabel’s in Mayfair. A police chase that ended up with a £100,000 Ferrari crashing head-on into a squad car, and even the suggestion of four in a bed.
Mr. Paulo Reinaldo warranted only a passing mention, but then the reporter was far more interested in making sure the Baroness Emma Clifton, undersecretary of state for health; Sir Harry Clifton, popular author and civil rights campaigner; Lord Barrington, former leader of the House of Lords; and Sebastian Clifton, chairman of a leading city bank, all got a mention, despite the fact that they were all fast asleep at the time Jessica Clifton was arrested.
Sebastian let out a deep sigh. He could only hope that his beloved daughter would eventually be able to chalk this down to experience and, given time, not only fully recover but be stronger for it. It wasn’t until he reached the last paragraph that he realized that wasn’t going to be possible.
* * *
Virginia also purchased an early edition of The Evening Standard, and couldn’t stop smiling as she read the “exclusive” word for word. Ten pounds well spent, she thought to herself. Her only disappointment was that Paulo Reinaldo had pleaded guilty, and received a fine of £500 after assuring the judge he would be returning to Brazil in the next few days.
However, the smile reappeared on Virginia’s face when she came to the last paragraph of the article. Mr. Gerald Knight, the principal of the Slade School of Fine Art, told the reporter he had been left with no choice but to expel both Mr. Reinaldo and Miss Jessica Clifton from the college. He added that he had done so reluctantly in the case of Miss Clifton, as she was an extremely gifted student.
* * *
“It’s a great pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. Barrington. I’ve long been an admirer of yours.”
“That’s kind of you, Sir James, but I had no idea you’d even heard of me.”
“You taught my wife Helen when she was up at Cambridge,” said Sir James as they sat down by the fire.
“Remind me of her maiden name, Sir James?”
“Helen Prentice. We met when I was reading Law at Trinity.”
“Ah, yes, I remember Helen. She played the cello in the college orchestra. Does she still play?”
“Only at weekends when no one is listening.” They both laughed.
“Well, do pass on my best wishes to her.”
“I will indeed, Dr. Barrington. But I confess, neither of us could work out why you would want to see me, unless you’re on one of your well-known fund-raising drives, in which case I should remind you that British Petroleum has recently increased its annual grant to the Newnham College scholarship fund.”
Grace smiled. “You’re wearing the wrong hat, Sir James. I didn’t come to see the chairman of BP but the president of the Slade School of Fine Art.”
“I’m still none the wiser.”
“Try not to think of me as a Barrington, but as being related to several Cliftons, and one in particular, my great-niece Jessica, whose case I come to plead on her behalf.”
Sir James Neville’s warm and relaxed demeanor was quickly replaced with a sullen frown.
“Even if you were Portia, I’m afraid your pleas would fall on deaf ears, Dr. Barrington. The board voted unanimously to expel Miss Clifton from the Slade. Not only was she drunk, and possibly under the influence of drugs, when she was arrested, but she assaulted a police officer while in custody. I personally felt she was most fortunate not to have been charged, and even given a custodial sentence.”
“But that’s the whole point, Sir James. She wasn’t charged, or sentenced.”
“The young man who was driving the car at the time, if I remember correctly, was charged, given a heavy fine, and deported.”
“An older and much more sophisticated individual, with whom Jessica was unfortunately besotted.”
“Quite possibly, Dr. Barrington. But are you also aware that Miss Clifton’s scholarship was rescinded earlier this year after she was caught smoking marijuana on college premises?”
“Yes, I am, Sir James. Jessica has told me everything that happened during the past year, and I can assure you she deeply regrets her actions, but if you reinstate her, she will not let you down a second time.”
“Whose word do we have for that?”
“Mine.”
Sir James hesitated, before saying, “I’m afraid it’s out of the question, Dr. Barrington. Did Miss Clifton also mention that she only attended three lectures and seven classes last term, and during that time her work went from excellent to unacceptable?”
“Yes, she did.”
“And when her supervisor, Professor Howard, raised the matter with her, she told him, and I apologize for my language, to fuck off?”
“And you’ve never resorted to such language, Sir James?”
“Not when addressing my tutor, and I doubt if your great-niece has resorted to such language in front of you, Dr. Barrington, or any other members of your family.”
“So you’ve never known a student to rebel against what you and I would consider acceptable behavior? After all, you have a son and two daughters of your own.” Sir James was silenced for a moment, which allowed Grace to continue. “I’ve had the privilege of teaching many talented young women over the years, but rarely have I encountered one as gifted as my great-niece.”
“Talent is not an excuse to flout college rules, while expecting everyone else to behave properly, as the principal clearly spelled out in his report on this unhappy state of affairs.”
“In that same report, Sir James, Professor Howard addressed the board on Jessica’s behalf, and if I recall his words correctly, he said that she possessed a rare talent that should be nurtured, not stamped out.”
“The board considered Professor Howard’s words most carefully before we came to our decision, and I’m afraid the attendant publicity left us with no choice but to—”
“The attendant publicity, Sir James, was not caused by Jessica, but my sister Emma, my brother-in-law Harry, and even my brother, Giles Barrington.”
“That is possibly the case, Dr. Barrington, but the privilege of being brought up in such a remarkable family gives one added responsibility.”
“So if Jessica had been the daughter of a single mother, whose father had deserted her, your whole attitude might have been different?”
Sir James rose angrily from his place. “I apologize, Dr. Barrington, but I can see no purpose in prolonging this discussion. The board has made its decision, and I do not have the authority to overturn it.”
“I’m loath to correct you, Sir James,” said Grace, not rising from her seat, “but I think you’ll find, if you check the statutes of the Slade carefully, that rule 73b allows you to do just that.”
“I don’t recall rule 73b,” said Sir James, sinking back into his chair, “but I have a feeling you’re about to enlighten me.”
“It is the president’s prerogative,” said Grace calmly, “to overrule a board decision if he believes that there were extenuating circumstances that had not
been taken into consideration at the time.”
“Such as?” said Sir James, barely able to disguise his irritation.
“Perhaps it’s time to remind you about another student, who didn’t have the same privileges as Jessica Clifton. A young man who, when he was an undergraduate at Cambridge, took his tutor’s motorbike without permission and in the middle of the night went on a joyride. When he was pulled over by the police for speeding, he claimed he had the owner’s permission.”
“That was just a harmless prank.”
“And when he appeared in front of the magistrate the following morning, he wasn’t charged, but was told to return the bike to its owner and apologize. And fortunately, because the young man was not the son of a government minister, the incident didn’t even manage a paragraph in The Cambridge Evening News.”
“That’s not altogether fair, Dr. Barrington.”
“And when he returned the bike to his tutor and apologized, the undergraduate was not sent down or even rusticated, because his tutor was a civilized fellow, and was well aware that the young man was only a few weeks away from his finals.”
“That’s below the belt, Dr. Barrington.”
“I cannot disagree,” said Grace. “But I think it worthy of mention that the young man in question graduated with a first-class honors degree, and later became chairman of BP, president of the Slade School of Art, and a knight of the realm.”
Sir James bowed his head.
“I apologize for resorting to such tactics, Sir James, and can only hope you will forgive me when Dame Jessica Clifton RA is appointed president of the Royal Academy.”
* * *
“Tell me, Grandpops,” said Jessica, “have you ever made a complete fool of yourself?”
“Do you mean this week, or last week?” asked Harry.
“I’m serious. I mean when you were young.”
“That’s so long ago, I can’t even remember,” said Harry. Jessica remained silent as she waited for him to answer her question. “What about being arrested for murder?” he finally managed. “Does that count?”
“But you were innocent and it was all a terrible mistake.”
“The judge didn’t seem to think so, because he sentenced me to four years in jail, and if I remember correctly, you only managed one night.” Jessica frowned, and didn’t respond. “And then there was the time I disobeyed orders and advised a German general to lay down his arms and surrender, when all I had at my disposal was a pistol and an Irish corporal.”
“And the Americans decorated you for that action.”
“But that’s the point, Jessie. Often in war you’re hailed as a hero for something that had you done in peacetime, you would have been arrested for and possibly shot.”
“Do you think my father will ever forgive me?”
“There’s no reason why he shouldn’t. He did something far worse at your age, which was the reason your mother left him and returned to America.”
“She told me they drifted apart.”
“True, but what she didn’t tell you was why. And they have you to thank for bringing them back together.”
“And whom do I have to thank?”
“Your great-aunt Grace, if you’re asking who made it possible for you to return to the Slade in September.”
“I assumed it was you or Grandmama who intervened.”
“No. Although she won’t thank me for telling you, Grace joined forces with Professor Howard, proving that when two people work together, they can become an army.”
“How can I ever begin to thank them?”
“By proving they were right. Which leads me to ask how your work’s coming on.”
“I don’t know, is the honest answer. Can you ever be sure how one of your books is shaping up?”
“No. In the end I leave it to the critics and the public to make that decision.”
“Then I guess it will be the same for me. So would you be willing to offer an honest opinion on my latest work?”
“I could try,” said Harry, hoping he wouldn’t have to dissemble.
“Then no better time than now,” said Jessica, grabbing him by the hand and leading him out of the library. “It was kind of you to allow me to come down for the summer and see if I could pick up the pieces,” she added as they climbed the stairs.
“And have you?”
“That’s exactly what I’m hoping you’ll tell me,” said Jessica, as she opened the door to the old playroom and stood aside.
Harry walked tentatively in and looked at row upon row of preliminary drawings scattered across the floor. They didn’t begin to prepare him for the huge canvas that stood on an easel in the center of the room. He stared at a painting of the Manor House, which he had thought he knew so well. The lawn, the rose garden, the lake, the folly, the vast oaks that led your eye to the horizon. Every color was wrong, but when put together …
When Jessica could bear it no longer she said, “Well? Say something, Grandpops.”
“I only hope my latest book is half as good.”
28
“BUT IT’S A FAMILY TRADITION,” insisted Emma.
“Couldn’t we have a year off?” mocked Sebastian.
“Certainly not. I promised your great-grandfather that the family would always spend Christmas together, and on New Year’s Eve we would tell each other our New Year’s resolutions. So who would like to start this year?”
“My father was even worse,” said Samantha. “He made us write down our resolutions, and a year later we had to read them out to remind everyone what we’d foolishly promised.”
“I’ve always liked your father,” said Emma. “So why don’t you begin?”
“By this time next year,” said Samantha, “I will have a job.”
“But you already have a job,” said Emma. “You’re bringing up the next but one chairman of Farthings Kaufman.”
“I don’t think so,” said Seb, looking down at his son, who was landing a model of Concorde on the floor. “I think he plans to be a test pilot.”
“Then he’ll have to become chairman of British Airways,” said Emma.
“Perhaps he won’t want to be chairman of anything,” suggested Grace.
“If you had a choice, Sam,” said Harry, “what job would you like?”
“I’ve applied for a position at the Courtauld Institute, in their research department. The hours are flexible, and now Jake is going to nursery school, it would be ideal.”
“For the more practical members of our family,” said Sebastian, “it may interest them to know that employing a nanny will cost more than Sam can hope to earn as a researcher at the Courtauld.”
“A sensible distribution of wealth,” said Grace. “Two people each doing a job they want to do, and both being rewarded accordingly.”
“What’s your New Year’s resolution, Aunt Grace?” asked Sebastian.
“I’ve decided to take early retirement, and will be leaving the university at the end of the academic year.”
“Come and join us in the House of Lords,” said Giles. “We could do with your wisdom and common sense.”
“Thank you,” said Grace, “but two Barringtons in the Upper House is quite enough. In any case, like Samantha, I’m also looking for another job.”
“Dare one ask what?” asked Harry.
“I’ve applied for a teaching post at a local comprehensive, in the hope that I can help some bright young girls get into Cambridge, who might not otherwise have considered it possible.”
“Why not boys?” demanded Giles.
“There are quite enough of them at Cambridge already.”
“You put us all to shame, Aunt Grace,” said Sebastian.
“So what do you have planned for this year, Seb?” retorted Grace. “Other than making more and more money?”
“Let’s hope you’re right, because frankly that’s what my customers, of which you’re one, will be expecting me to do.”
“Touché,” said Emma.
/> “Your turn, Jessica,” said Grace. “I hope you plan to do something more worthwhile than chairing a bank.”
No one needed to be reminded of Jessica’s resolution a year ago: to be worthy of my great-aunt’s belief in me, and to make the best of being given a second chance.
“I’m determined to win a scholarship to the Royal Academy Schools.”
“Bravo,” said Emma.
“Not good enough,” said Grace. “We all know you’re going to achieve that. Raise the bar, young lady.”
Jessica hesitated for a moment, before she said, “I’ll win the Founder’s Prize.”
“That’s more like it,” said Grace. “And we’ll all be present when you accept the award.”
“Your turn, Mama,” said Sebastian, coming to the rescue of his daughter.
“I’m going to join a gym and lose half a stone.”
“But that was your resolution last year!”
“I know,” said Emma, “and now I need to lose a stone.”
“Me too,” said Giles, “but unlike Emma at least I’ve achieved last year’s resolution.”
“Remind us?” said Harry.
“I swore I’d get back on the front bench and be offered a challenging portfolio now that Michael Foot had finally resigned and made way for someone who actually wants to live in Number Ten.”
“Which portfolio has Mr. Kinnock asked you to shadow?” asked Grace.
Giles couldn’t help grinning.
“No,” said Emma, “you wouldn’t dare! I presume you turned him down?”
“I couldn’t resist it,” said Giles. “So my New Year’s resolution is to frustrate, harass, and cause as many problems as possible for the government, and in particular its minister for health.”
“You’re a rat!” said Emma.
“No, to be fair, sis, I’m a rat catcher.”
“Time out,” said Harry, laughing. “Before you two come to blows, who’s next?”
“Freddie, perhaps?” suggested Karin.
It had been Freddie’s first Christmas at the Manor House, and Jessica had mothered him like an only child, while Jake never seemed to be more than a few steps behind his new friend.
“My New Year’s resolution,” said Freddie, “will be the same this year, and every year, until I have achieved it.” Freddie may not have intended to, but he’d caught everyone’s attention. “I shall score a century at Lord’s, and emulate my father.”