A Twist in the Tale (11 page)

“I never
doubted that for one moment,” said Gerald. “But you must understand that this
is
a
once-in-a-lifetime
honour
for me.

Now when could
I hope to have an estimate?”

“A month, six
weeks at the most,” replied the expert.

Gerald left the
plush carpet of
Asprey’s
for the sewers of Nigeria.
When a little over a month later he flew back to London, he travelled in to the
West End for his second meeting with
Mr
Pullinger
.

The
jeweller
had not forgotten Gerald Haskins and his strange
request, and he quickly produced from his order book a neatly folded piece of
paper. Gerald unfolded it and read the tender slowly. Requirement for
customer’s request: twelve diamonds, seven amethysts, three rubies and a sap-
phire
, all to be of the most perfect
colour
and of the highest quality.
A peacock to be sculpted in ivory
and painted by a craftsman.
The entire chain then to
be
moulded
in the finest eighteen carat gold.
The bottom line read:

“Two hundred and eleven thousand pounds - exclusive of VAT.”

Gerald, who
would have thought nothing of haggling over an estimate of a few thousand
pounds for roofing material or the hire of heavy equipment, or even a schedule
of pay-
ments
, simply asked, “When will I be able to
collect it?”

“One could not
be certain how long it might take to put together such a fine piece,” said
Mr
Pullinger
. “Finding stones of
a perfect match and
colour
will, I fear, take a
little time.” He paused. “I am also hoping that our senior craftsman will be
free to work on this particular commission. He has been rather taken up lately
with gifts for the Queen’s forthcoming visit to Saudi Arabia so I don’t think
it could be ready before the end of March.”

Well in time
for next year’s Mayor’s banquet, thought Gerald.
Councillor
Ramsbottom
would not be able to mock him this time.
Fourteen-carat gold, had he said?

Lagos and Rio
de Janeiro both had their sewers down and running long before Gerald was able
to return to
Asprey’s
. And he only set his eyes on
the unique prize a few weeks before Mayor-making day.

When
Mr
Pullinger
first showed his
client the finished work the
Yorkshireman
gasped with
delight. The Order was so magnificent that Gerald found it necessary to
purchase a string of pearls from
Asprey’s
to ensure a
silent wife.

On his return
to Hull he waited until after dinner to open the green leather box from
Asprey’s
and surprise her with the new Order. “Fit for a
monarch, lass,” he assured his wife but Angela seemed preoccupied with her
pearls.

After Angela
had left to wash up, her husband continued to stare for some time at the
beautiful jewels so expertly crafted and superbly cut before he finally closed
the box.

The next
morning he reluctantly took the piece round to the bank and explained that it
must be kept safely locked in the vaults as he would only be requiring
to take
it out once, perhaps twice, a year. He couldn’t
resist showing the object of his delight to the bank manager,
Mr
Sedgley
.

“You’ll be
wearing it for Mayor-making day, no doubt?”
Mr
Sedgley
enquired.

“If I’m
invited,” said Gerald.

“Oh, I feel
sure
Ramsbottom
will want all his old friends to
witness the ceremony.

Especially you,
I suspect,” he added without explanation.

Gerald read the
news item in the Court Circular of The Times to his wife over breakfast:

“It has been
announced from Buckingham Palace that King
Alfons
IV
of
Multavia
will make a state visit to Britain
between April 7th and 1
Ith
.”

“I wonder if we
will have an opportunity to meet the King again,” said Angela.

Gerald offered
no opinion.

In fact
Mr
and
Mrs
Gerald Haskins
received two invitations connected with King
Alfons’s
official visit, one to dine with the King at
Claridge’s
-
Multavia’s
London Embassy not being large enough to
cater for such an occasion – and the second arriving a day later by special
delivery from Buckingham Palace.

Gerald was
delighted. The Peacock, it seemed, was going to get three outings in one month,
as their visit to the Palace was ten days before Walter
Ramsbottom
would be installed as Mayor.

The state
dinner at
Claridge’s
was
memor
-able
and although there were several hundred other guests Gerald still managed to
catch a moment with his host, King
Alfons
IV who, he
found to his pleasure, could not take his eyes off The Order of the Peacock
(Third Class).

The trip to
Buckingham Palace a week later was Gerald and Angela’s second, following
Gerald’s investiture in 1984 as a Commander of the British Empire. It took
Gerald almost as long to dress for the state occasion as it did his wife. He
took some time fiddling with his collar to be sure that his CBE could be seen
to its full advantage while the Order of the Peacock still rested squarely on
his shoulders. Gerald had asked his tailor to sew little loops into his
tailcoat so that the Order did not have to be continually readjusted.

When the
Haskins arrived at Buckingham Palace they followed a throng of
bemedalled
men and
tiara’d
ladies
through to the state dining room where a footman handed out seating cards to
each of the guests. Gerald unfolded his to find an arrow pointing to his name.
He took his wife by the arm and guided her to their places.

He noticed that
Angela’s head kept turning whenever she saw a tiara.

Although they
were seated some distance away from Her Majesty at an offshoot of the main
table, there was still a minor royal on Gerald’s left and the Minister of
Agriculture on his right. He was more than satisfied. In fact the whole evening
went far too quickly, and Gerald was already beginning to feel that
Mayor-making day would be something of an anti-climax. Nevertheless, Gerald
imagined a scene where
Councillor
Ramsbottom
was admiring the Order of the Peacock (Third Class), while he was telling him
about the dinner at the Palace.

After two loyal
toasts and two national anthems the Queen rose to her feet. She spoke warmly of
Multavia
as she addressed her three hundred guests,
and affectionately of her distant cousin the King. Her Majesty added that she hoped
to visit his kingdom at some time in the near future. This was greeted with
considerable applause. She then concluded her speech by saying it was her
intention to make two investitures.

The Queen
created King
Alfons
IV a Knight Commander of the
Royal Victorian Order (KCVO), and then
Multavia’s
Ambassador to the Court of St. James a Commander of the same order (CVO), both
being personal orders of the monarch. A box of royal blue was opened by the
Court Chamberlain and the awards placed over the recipients’ shoulders.

As soon as the
Queen had completed her formal duties, King
Alfons
rose to make his reply.

“
Your
Majesty,” he continued after the usual formalities and
thanks had been completed. “I also would like to make two awards. The first is
to an Englishman who has given great service to my country through his
expertise and diligence” – the King then glanced in Gerald’s direction – “a
man,” he continued, “who completed a feat of sanitary engineering that any
nation on earth could be proud of and indeed, Your Majesty, it was opened by
your own Foreign Secretary. We in the capital of
Teske
will remain in his debt for generations to come. We therefore bestow on
Mr
Gerald Haskins, CBE,
the
Order
of the Peacock (Second Class).”

Gerald couldn’t
believe his ears.

Tumultuous
applause greeted a surprised Gerald as he made his way up towards their
Majesties. He came to a standstill behind the
throned
chairs somewhere between the Queen of England and the King of
Multavia
.

The King smiled
at the new recipient of the Order of the Peacock (Second Class) as the two men
shook hands. But before bestowing the new
honour
upon
him, King
Alfons
leaned forward and with some
difficulty removed from Gerald’s shoulders his Order of the Peacock (Third
Class).

“You won’t
be needing
this any longer,” the King whispered in Gerald’s
ear.

Gerald watched
in horror as his prize possession disappeared into a red leather box held open
by the King’s private secretary, who stood poised behind his sovereign. Gerald
continued to stare at the private secretary, who was either a diplomat of the
highest order or had not been privy to the King’s plan, for his face showed no
sign of anything untoward. Once Gerald’s magnificent prize had been safely
removed, the box snapped closed like a safe of which Gerald had not been told
the combination. Gerald wanted to protest, but remained speechless.

King
Alfons
then removed from another box the Order of the
Peacock (Second Class) and placed it over Gerald’s shoulders. Gerald, staring
at the indifferent
coloured
glass stones, hesitated
for a few moments before stumbling a pace back, bowing, and then returning to
his place in the great dining room.

He did not hear
the waves of applause that accompanied him; his only thought was how he could
possibly retrieve his lost chain immediately the speeches were over. He slumped
down in the chair next to his wife.

“And now,”
continued the King, “I wish to present a decoration that has not been bestowed
on anyone since my late father’s death. The Order of the Peacock (First Class),
which it gives me special
delight
to bestow on Her
Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.”

The Queen rose
from her place as the King’s private secretary once again stepped forward. In
his hands was held the same red leather case that had snapped shut so firmly on
Gerald’s unique possession. The case was re-opened and the King removed the
magnificent Order from the box and placed it on the shoulders of the Queen. The
jewels sparkled in the candlelight and the guests gasped at the sheer
magnificence of the piece.

Gerald was the
only person in the room who knew its true value.

“Well, you
always said it was fit for a monarch,” his wife remarked as she touched her
string of pearls.

“Aye,” said
Gerald. “But what’s
Ramsbottom
going to say when he
sees this?” he added sadly, fingering the Order of the Peacock (Second Class).
“He’ll know it’s not the real thing.”

“I don’t see it
matters that much,” said Angela.

“What do you
mean, lass?” asked Gerald.

“I’ll be the
laughing stock of Hull on Mayor-making day.”

“You should
start reading the evening papers, Gerald, and stop looking in mirrors and then
you’d know Walter isn’t going to be Mayor this year.”

“Not going to
be Mayor?” repeated Gerald.

“No. The
present Mayor has opted to do a second term so Walter won’t be Mayor until next
year.”

“Is that
right?” said Gerald with a smile.

“And if you’re
thinking what I think you’re thinking, Gerald Haskins, this time it’s going to
cost you a tiara.”

I
woke up before him feeling slightly randy but I knew there was
nothing I could do about it.

I blinked and
my eyes immediately
accus-tomed
themselves to the
half light
. I raised my head and gazed at the large expanse
of motionless white flesh lying next to me. If only he took as much exercise as
I did he wouldn’t have that spare lyre, I thought unsympathetically.

Roger stirred
restlessly and even turned over to face me, but I knew he would not be fully
awake until the alarm on his side of the bed started ringing. I pondered for a
moment whether I could go back to sleep again or should get up and find myself
some breakfast before he woke. In the end I settled for just lying still on my
side day-dreaming, but making sure I didn’t disturb him. When he did eventually
open his eyes I planned to pretend I was still asleep- that way he would end up
getting breakfast for me. I began to go over the things that needed to be done
after he had left for the office. As long as I was at home ready to greet him
when he returned from work, he didn’t seem to mind what I got up to during the
day.

A gentle rumble
emanated from his side of the bed. Roger’s snoring never disturbed me.

My affection
for him was unbounded, and I only wished I could find the words to let him
know. In truth, he was the first man I had really appreciated. As I gazed at
his un-shaven face I was reminded that it hadn’t been his looks which had
attracted me in the pub that night.

I had first
come across Roger in the Cat and Whistle, a public house situated on the corner
of
Mafeking
Road
.
You might say it was our local.
He used to come in around eight, order a pint of mild and take it to a small
table in the corner of the room just beyond the dartboard. Mostly he would sit
alone, watching the darts being thrown towards double top but more often
settling in one or five, if they managed to land on the board at all. He never
played the game himself, and I often wondered, from my vantage point behind the
bar, if he were fearful of relinquishing his
favourite
seat or-just had no interest in the sport.