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“It’s still eleven, but I have a feeling it will be twelve by the beginning of next season. I’m not getting any younger.”
“None of us are,” said Cedric. “Have a good round at the weekend and I’ll look forward to hearing from you—” he checked his calendar—“in ten days’ time.” He pressed the button on the side of his phone and looked across the desk at his youngest associate director. “Tell me what you learned from that, Seb.”
&
nbsp; “That Martinez might well be putting all his Barrington’s shares on the market at nine o’clock on August seventeenth.”
“Exactly one week before your mother will be chairing the company’s AGM.”
“Oh, hell,” said Sebastian.
“I’m glad you’ve worked out what Martinez is up to. But never forget, Seb, that in any conversation, it’s often something that seems quite insignificant at the time that gives you the piece of information you’re looking for. Mr. Ledbury kindly supplied me with two such little gems.”
“What was the first?”
Cedric looked down at his pad and read out, “Don’t bother, Cedric, Agnew’s is only a couple of hundred yards up the road, so I’ll pop over and pick one up myself. What does that tell us?”
“That he didn’t realize Martinez’s collection was up for sale.”
“Yes, that’s for sure, but more importantly, it tells us that for some reason the fact that it’s up for sale worries him, otherwise he’d have sent a member of his staff to pick up the catalog, but no, I’ll pick one up myself.”
“And the second thing?”
“He asked if the bank represented either the Clifton or the Barrington families.”
“Why is that significant?”
“Because if I’d said yes, the conversation would have ended there and then. I’m sure Ledbury has received instructions to put the shares up for sale on the seventeenth, but not to a member of the family.”
“And why is that so important?”
“Martinez clearly doesn’t want the family to know what he’s up to. He’s obviously hoping to recoup most of his investment in Barrington’s during the run-up to the AGM, by which time he seems to be confident that the share price will have collapsed without him having lost too much of his own money. If he gets his timing right, every stockbroker will be trying to dump their Barrington’s shares, which will ensure that the AGM is hijacked by journalists wanting to know if the company is facing bankruptcy. In which case, it won’t be the news that the naming of the Buckingham will be carried out by the Queen Mother that will make the front pages the following day.”
“Can we do anything to prevent that?” asked Sebastian.
“Yes, but we’ll have to make sure our timing is even better than Martinez’s.”
“But something isn’t quite right. If Martinez is likely to get most of his money back on the sale of the shares, why does he also need to sell his art collection?”
“I agree that is a mystery. And I have a feeling that once we’ve solved it, everything else will fall neatly into place. It’s also just possible that if you ask the young lady who’s taking you to supper tomorrow night the right question, we might be able to fit one or two more pieces of the jigsaw into place. But remember what I’ve just said: an unguarded comment often proves every bit as valuable as a response to a direct question. By the way, what’s the young lady’s name?”
“I don’t know,” said Sebastian.
* * *
Susan Fisher sat in the fifth row of a packed audience and listened attentively to what Emma Clifton had to say about her life as the chairman of a major shipping company, when she addressed the annual meeting of the Red Maids’ Old Girls’ Association. Although Emma was still a fine-looking woman, Susan saw that little lines had begun to appear around her eyes, and the head of thick black hair that had been the envy of her classmates now needed a little help to retain its natural dark sheen and not reveal the toll grief and stress must surely have taken.
Susan always attended school reunions, and had been particularly looking forward to this one, as she was a great admirer of Emma Barrington, as she remembered her. She had been head girl, had won a place at Oxford and had become the first woman chairman of a public company.
However, one thing puzzled her about Emma’s address. Alex’s resignation letter suggested that the company had made a series of bad decisions and could be facing bankruptcy, whereas Emma gave the impression that as the first booking period for the Buckingham had been an unqualified success, Barrington’s could look forward to a bright future. They couldn’t both be right, and she wasn’t in any doubt who she wanted to believe.
During the reception that was held after the speech, it was impossible to get anywhere near the speaker, who was surrounded by old friends and new admirers. Susan didn’t bother to wait in line, but decided to catch up with some of her contemporaries. Whenever the subject arose, she tried to avoid answering any questions about Alex. After an hour, Susan decided to leave as she’d promised to be back at Burnham-on-Sea in time to cook supper for her mother. She was just leaving the school hall when someone behind her said, “Hello, Susan.” She looked back, surprised to see Emma Clifton walking toward her.
“I wouldn’t have been able to make that speech if it hadn’t been for you. It was very brave, because I can only imagine what Alex had to say when he got home that afternoon.”
“I didn’t wait to find out,” said Susan, “because I’d already made up my mind to leave him. And now I know how well the company is doing, I’m even more pleased I supported you.”
“We’ve still got a testing six months ahead of us,” admitted Emma, “but if we get through that, I’ll feel a lot more confident.”
