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“Sorry. I’ll try again. When you were single, how many women did you, you know, before you were married?”
“Fuck?” said Tom.
Sebastian turned bright red, but managed, “Yes.”
“Having trouble with the birds, are we?”
“In a word, yes.”
“Well, I’ve no intention of answering that question, m’lud, on account of the fact that it would undoubtedly incriminate me.” Sebastian laughed. “But not as many as I’d have liked, and not as many as I told my mates I had.”
Sebastian laughed again. “And what’s married life like?”
“Up and down like Tower Bridge. What’s brought all this on, Seb?” asked Tom as they passed Earl’s Court. “Found someone you fancy, have you?”
“If only. No, it’s just that I’m useless when it comes to women. I seem to blow it whenever I meet a girl I like. I somehow manage to send out all the wrong signals.”
“Which isn’t that clever when you’ve got everythin’ goin’ for you, is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a good-lookin’ lad, in a toffee-nosed sort of way, well-educated, talk proper, come from a good family, so what more do you want?”
“But I’m penniless.”
“Possibly. But you’ve got potential, and girls like potential. Always think they can harness it, turn it to their advantage. So believe me, you won’t have any problems in that department. Once you get goin,’ you’ll never look back.”
“You’re wasted, Tom, you should have been a philosopher.”
“None of your cheek, lad. It’s not me what’s got a place booked at Cambridge. ’Cause I tell you what, given half a chance, I’d swap places with you.”
A thought that had never crossed Sebastian’s mind.
“Mind you, I’m not complainin’. Got a good job, Mr. Hardcastle’s a diamond, and Linda’s all right. But if I’d had your start in life, I wouldn’t be a chauffeur, that’s for sure.”
“What would you be?”
“I’d own a fleet of cars, by now, and you’d be callin’ me sir.”
Sebastian suddenly felt guilty. He took so much for granted, never giving a thought to what was going on in other people’s lives, or how privileged they might think he was. He remained silent for the rest of the journey, having been made painfully aware that birth is life’s first lottery ticket.
Tom broke the silence as he turned off the Great West Road. “Is it right we’re picking up three Nips?”
“Behave yourself, Tom. We’re picking up three Japanese gentlemen.”
“Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothin’ against the little yellow bastards. Stands to reason doesn’t it, they only went to war ’cause they were told to.”
“You’re a historian as well,” said Sebastian as the car came to a halt outside the airport terminal. “Have the back door open and the engine running when you next see me, Tom, because these three gentlemen are very important to Mr. Hardcastle.”
“I’ll be right ’ere, standin’ to attention,” said Tom. “Even practiced my bow, ’aven’t I?”
“Very low, in your case,” said Sebastian, grinning.
* * *
Although the arrivals board showed that the aircraft was on time, Sebastian was an hour early. He bought a lukewarm coffee from a small, overcrowded café, picked up a copy of the Daily Mail and read about two monkeys the Americans had sent into space that had just returned safely to Earth. He went to the lavatory, twice, checked his tie in the mirror, three times—Gwyneth had been right—and walked up and down the concourse countless times rehearsing “Good morning, Mr. Morita, welcome to England,” in Japanese, followed by a low bow.
“Japan Airlines flight number one zero two seven from Tokyo has just landed,” announced a prim voice over the loudspeaker.
