This Was A Man (6 page)

‘Not enough, I’m afraid. And the hospital doesn’t have the resources while seventy per cent of its annual funding is spent on wages, and the government is insisting on
cutbacks, not handouts. So you can be sure we’ll face exactly the same problem next Saturday night should Rovers lose to Cardiff City.’

‘Has Mrs Thatcher come up with any ideas for solving the problem?’

‘I suspect she’d agree with you, my darling. Hanged, drawn and quartered would be too good for them. But I don’t think you’ll find that particular policy highlighted in
the next Conservative Party manifesto.’

Dr Richards listened to his patient’s heartbeat, 72bpm, and ticked another box.

‘One final thing, Sir Harry,’ said the doctor, pulling on a latex glove. ‘I just want to check your prostate.

‘Hmm,’ he said, a few moments later. ‘There may be a very small lump there. We ought to keep an eye on it. You get dressed now, Sir Harry. All in all, you’re in pretty
good shape for a man approaching his sixties. An age when many of us are considering retirement.’

‘Not me,’ said Harry. ‘I’ve still got to deliver another William Warwick before I can get down to my next novel, which could take me a couple of years. So I need to live
until at least seventy. Is that understood, Dr Richards?’

‘Three score years and ten. No more than the Maker’s contract. I don’t think that should be a problem,’ he added, ‘as long as you’re still exercising.’
He checked his patient’s file. ‘When I last saw you, Sir Harry, you were running three miles, twice a week, and walking five miles, three times a week. Is that still the
case?’

‘Yes, but I have to confess I’ve stopped timing myself.’

‘Are you still keeping to that routine between your two-hour writing sessions?’

‘Every morning, five days a week.’

‘Excellent. In fact, that’s more than many of my younger patients could manage. Just a couple more questions. I take it you still don’t smoke?’

‘Never.’

‘And how much do you drink on an average day?’

‘A glass of wine at dinner, but not at lunch. It would send me to sleep in the afternoon.’

‘Then, frankly, seventy should be a doddle, as long as you don’t get run over by a bus.’

‘Not much risk of that, since our local bus only visits the village twice a day, despite Emma regularly writing to the council to complain.’

The doctor smiled. ‘That sounds like our chairman.’ Dr Richards closed the file, rose from behind his desk and accompanied Harry out of the consultation room.

‘How’s Lady Clifton?’ he asked as they walked down the corridor.

Emma hated the courtesy title of ‘lady’ because she felt she hadn’t earned it, and insisted everyone at the hospital still call her Mrs Clifton or ‘chairman’.
‘You tell me,’ said Harry.

‘I’m not her doctor,’ said Richards, ‘but I can tell you she’s the best chairman we’ve ever had, and I’m not sure who’ll be brave enough to
replace her when she stands down in a year’s time.’

Harry smiled. Whenever he visited the Bristol Royal Infirmary, he could sense the respect and affection the staff felt for Emma.

‘If we win hospital of the year a second time,’ Dr Richards added, ‘she’ll certainly have played her part.’

As they continued down the corridor, Harry passed two nurses who were taking a tea break. He noticed that one of them had a black eye and a swollen cheek which, despite heavy make-up, she
hadn’t been able to disguise. Dr Richards led Harry into a small cubicle that was empty apart from a bed and a couple of chairs.

‘Take your jacket off. A nurse will be with you shortly.’

‘Thank you,’ said Harry. ‘I look forward to seeing you again in a year’s time.’

‘Once we’ve got all the tests back from the labs, I’ll drop you a line with the results. Not that I imagine they’ll be much different from last year.’

Harry slipped off his jacket, hung it over the back of a chair, took off his shoes and climbed on to the bed. He lay down, closed his eyes and began to think about the next chapter of
William Warwick and the Three Card Trick
. How could the suspect possibly have been in two places at once? Either he was in bed with his wife or he was driving up to Manchester. Which was
it? The doctor had left the door open and Harry’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard someone saying ‘Dr Hands’. Where had he heard that name before?

‘Will you report him to Matron?’ the voice asked.

‘Not if I want to keep my job,’ said a second voice.

‘So old wandering hands gets away with it again.’

‘As long as it’s just his word against mine, he has nothing to fear.’

‘What did he get up to this time?’

Harry sat up, took a notebook and pen from his jacket pocket and listened carefully to the conversation that was taking place in the corridor.

‘I was in the laundry room on the third floor picking up some fresh sheets when someone came in. When the door closed and I heard it lock, I knew it could only be one person. I pretended
not to notice, picked up some sheets and made a beeline for the door. I tried to unlock it, but he grabbed me and pressed himself up against me. It was disgusting. I thought I’d throw up. No
need for anyone to know about this, he said, just a bit of fun. I tried to elbow him in the groin but he had me pinned against the wall. Then he swung me round and started trying to kiss
me.’

‘What did you do?’

‘Bit his tongue. He yelled, called me a bitch and slapped me across the face. But it gave me enough time to unlock the door and escape.’

‘You have to report him. It’s time the bastard was removed from this hospital.’

‘Not much chance of that. When I saw him on ward rounds this morning, he warned me that I’d be looking for another job if I opened my mouth, and then added’ – her voice
dropped to a whisper – ‘when a woman’s got her mouth open, it’s only good for one thing.’

‘He’s sick, and shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.’

‘Don’t forget how powerful he is. He got Mandy’s boyfriend sacked after he told the police he’d seen him assaulting her, when he was the one who’d hit her. So what
chance would I have after a grope in the laundry room? No, I’ve decided—’

‘Good morning, Sir Harry,’ said a staff nurse as she entered the room and closed the door behind her. ‘Dr Richards has asked me to take a blood sample and send it to the labs.
Just a routine check, so if you could roll up one of your sleeves.’

‘I suppose only one of us is qualified to be chairman,’ said Giles, unable to hide a smirk.

‘This is no laughing matter,’ said Emma. ‘I’ve already drawn up an agenda to make sure we cover all the topics that need to be discussed.’ She handed Giles and
Grace a copy each, and allowed them a few moments to consider the items before she spoke again.

‘Perhaps I should bring you up to date before we move on to item one.’ Her brother and sister nodded. ‘The board accepted Cunard’s final offer of three pounds forty-one
pence a share, and the takeover was completed at midday on February the twenty-sixth.’

‘That must have been quite a wrench,’ said Giles, sounding genuinely sympathetic.

‘I have to admit that while I was clearing out my office, I was still wondering if I’d done the right thing. And I was glad no one else was in the room when I took down
Grandfather’s portrait, because I couldn’t look him in the eye.’

‘I’d be happy to welcome Walter back to Barrington Hall,’ said Giles. ‘He can hang alongside Grandma in the library.’

‘Actually, Giles, the chairman of Cunard asked if he could remain in the boardroom with all the other past chairmen.’

‘I’m impressed,’ said Giles. ‘And even more convinced that I made the right decision about how I should invest some of my money,’ he added without explanation.

‘But what about you, Emma?’ said Grace, turning to her sister. ‘After all, you’ve also earned your right to a place in the boardroom.’

‘Bryan Organ has been commissioned to paint my portrait,’ said Emma. ‘It will hang opposite dear Grandpa.’

‘What did Jessica have to say about that?’ asked Giles.

‘She recommended him. Even asked if she might be allowed to attend the sittings.’

‘She’s growing up so fast,’ said Grace.

‘She’s already a young lady,’ said Emma. ‘And I’m considering taking her advice on another matter,’ she added before returning to the agenda. ‘After the
completion documents had been signed, a handover ceremony took place in the boardroom. Within twenty-four hours, the name of Barrington Shipping that had hung so proudly above the entrance gate for
more than a century was replaced by Cunard.’

‘I know it’s only been a month,’ said Giles, ‘but have Cunard honoured their commitment to our staff, especially the long-serving ones?’

‘To the letter,’ said Emma. ‘No one has been sacked, although quite a number of old-timers have taken advantage of the generous redundancy package Seb negotiated for them,
along with a free trip on the
Buckingham
or the
Balmoral
, so no complaints on that front. However, we need to discuss our own position and where we go from here. As you both know,
we’ve been offered a cash settlement of just over twenty million pounds each, with the alternative of taking Cunard shares, which has several advantages.’

‘How many shares are they offering?’ asked Grace.

‘Seven hundred and ten thousand each, which last year yielded a dividend of £246,717. So have either of you made up your minds as to what you’re going to do with the
money?’

‘I have,’ said Giles. ‘After seeking Seb’s advice, I’ve decided to take half in cash, which Farthings Kaufman will invest across the board for me, and the other
half in Cunard shares. They experienced a slight dip recently, which Seb tells me isn’t unusual following a takeover. However, he assures me that Cunard’s a well-run company with a
proven record, and he expects their shares to continue yielding a three to four per cent dividend, while growing in value year on year by about the same amount.’

‘That actually sounds very conservative,’ said Emma, teasing her brother.

‘With a small “c”,’ retorted Giles. ‘I’ve also agreed to finance a research assistant for the Fabian Society.’

‘What a bold gesture,’ said Grace, not hiding her sarcasm.

‘And you’ve done something more radical?’ said Giles, returning the barb.

‘I would hope so. Certainly more fun.’

Emma and Giles stared at their sister, like two students in her class awaiting an answer.

‘I’ve already banked my cheque for the full amount. When I presented it to my bank manager, I thought he was going to faint. The following day, Sebastian came up to visit me in
Cambridge, and on his advice I’ve put five million aside to cover any tax liability, and another ten into an investment account with Farthings Kaufman, to be spread across a wide range of
well-established companies – his words. I’ve also left a million on deposit with the Midland, which will be more than enough for me to buy a small house near Cambridge, along with a
guaranteed annual income of around £30,000. A lot more than I ever earned in all my years as a college don.’

‘And the other four million?’

‘I’ve donated a million to the Newnham College restoration fund, a further half million to the Fitzwilliam, and another half million to be divided among a dozen or so charities that
I’ve taken an interest in over the years but have never been able to give more than a few hundred pounds in the past.’

‘You make me feel quite guilty,’ said Giles.

‘I would hope so, Giles. But then I joined the Labour Party long before you did.’

‘That still leaves another couple of million to be accounted for,’ said Emma.

‘I know it’s out of character, but I went on a shopping spree with Jessica.’

‘My God, what did she spend it on?’ asked Emma. ‘Diamonds and handbags?’

‘Certainly not,’ said Grace with some feeling. ‘A Monet, a Manet, two Picassos, a Pissarro and a Lucian Freud, who she assures me is the coming man, as well as a Bacon of a
Screaming Pope
I wouldn’t want to hear deliver a sermon. Plus a Henry Moore maquette entitled
King and Queen
, which I’ve long admired, along with a Barbara Hepworth
and a Leon Underwood. However, I refused to buy an Eric Gill, after I was told that he’d slept with his daughters. It didn’t seem to worry Jessica – you can’t deny real
talent, she kept reminding me – but I put my foot down. My final purchase was the artwork for a Beatles record cover by Peter Blake, which I gave to Jessica as a reward for her knowledge and
expertise. She knew exactly which galleries to visit, and bargained with the dealers like an East End barrow boy. I wasn’t sure whether to be proud or ashamed of her. And I must confess, I
hadn’t realized spending money could be quite so exhausting.’