Against the Tide (44 page)

He clapped ironically. ‘Thank you for the entertainment, but I fear your imagination has got the better of you. My friends are here on holiday – nothing else. Your headmaster is to be congratulated on the acting skills he has taught you.'

He bowed in the direction of Grumbridge. ‘Perhaps he should have taught you how to hold your drink as well.' He laughed and many more joined him as he helped Caroline to her feet.

‘Thank you for your patience, everyone. Please allow me to buy you all some more wine – apart from our Jewish friend here, who shouldn't be exerting himself so much on the Sabbath.'

The laughter tailed off into an embarrassed silence and Saul sat down glumly.

Rachel put her arm around him and kissed his cheek. ‘Take me home, please.' She glanced at me as I held my blood spattered face in shame. ‘Do you want to come with us, Jack?'

My father answered before I could. ‘No. He'll be coming home with us. We need to have a talk.'

Hayden-Brown tried to lift his daughter but she shrugged him off. Her expensive white dress was smeared with my blood, which mirrored the colour of her cheeks.

She pulled herself up, dragged a chair over to me and sat down. ‘It's not what you think, Jack. Please believe me.'

I nodded indifferently, completely drained, resigned like Shylock to his fate. ‘“
Pray you, give me leave to go from hence; I am not well: send the deed after me, And I will –
”'

Caroline cut me off. ‘For fuck's sake, Jack, cut the Shakespeare. You're not Shylock and this is not a fucking play.'

She jumped up and screamed for attention. ‘Listen everyone. Please listen. Father, please let me tell them the truth. I'm not ashamed –'

Isobelle shouted across the room. ‘Enough, Caroline. This must stop now.'

My mother moved forward, her back towards Isobelle. ‘No, Caroline. Don't stop. You tell us what is really going on here. I suspect you might be more truthful than your mother.'

Saul and Rachel looked accusingly at me. I shrugged in apology. I should have told them, but how?

Caroline looked nervously towards her father, who seemed frozen, nonplussed by my mother's intervention.

My mother had waited a long time for this and wasn't going to be denied her revenge. She stopped short and addressed Kohler. ‘It would seem that you are a liar as well as a bully – characteristics of your national breeding, no doubt.'

She turned to Caroline. ‘Well, young lady, what do you have to say for yourself? Your mother tried to steal my husband once. Are you punishing my son because she failed?' She addressed the final question to the whole room.

Even my mouth sagged in the silence that followed.

Caroline looked helplessly at me then at my fuming mother.

Hayden-Brown whispered hurriedly to Kempler, who nodded then barked in rapid German at Kohler.

He then bowed to my mother and spoke in English with barely a trace of an accent. ‘Our apologies, Frau Renouf. We will leave now.'

He gestured to Kohler, who pulled himself up, straightened his clothes and followed his uncle to their table. Sleeman looked confused as Schmitz stood and prepared to leave. Fairfield hadn't moved but, as Isobelle pushed her chair back, he reached out, grabbed her wrist and shook his head. She sat down again, desperately trying to regain some of the dignity which had been punched out of her by my mother's accusation. Hayden-Brown smiled grimly then fell in step behind Kohler.

Saul started to clap slowly but Rachel pulled his hands apart. All the guests and staff watched in silence as the host squared his shoulders and, nodding politely to everyone, made his way back across the dance floor.

Saul wouldn't be denied though. ‘How about Beethoven's “Funeral March
”
, Caroline? That should win the competition.'

No one laughed so, his callowness ignored, he sat down again and reached for the Chablis.

I sensed that conversation was about to restart when the two men from the Jaguar entered and walked over to Fairfield. They were wearing dark blue suits and trilby hats. They spoke quietly to him and one pulled a badge from his pocket. Kempler listened to their conversation then his shoulders slumped and he beckoned Kohler to join him. Hayden-Brown sat down heavily on a chair.

Kohler walked back to us. He stopped in front of me. I looked up at him almost indifferently.

‘This isn't over, Renouf. You'll pay for this. Not today, or tomorrow. It might not be for some time, but you will pay.'

He turned to Caroline, who kept looking at the floor. He shrugged, clicked his heels and marched towards the veranda.

Caroline lifted her eyes and watched his back as he joined his uncle and the two men, who then escorted them into the reception area. Her mother, father and his other guests followed.

My father moved towards me and reached for Mum's hand. ‘We'll wait for you outside.'

The other guests stayed in their seats, bewildered by the turn of events, though I spotted one of the lawyers making notes on a menu.

Caroline pleaded with me. ‘Don't go yet. Come with me. We can talk. I can explain. Please, I don't want to go home. I can't. Please, Jack.'

I twisted away, looked around for Rachel. She was standing with Saul in the shadows by the veranda. He had his arm around her shoulders. I guessed they had a lot to discuss.

I felt so tired. I didn't want to talk anymore. I knew I would have to listen but I could do that without hearing.

I got up and walked towards the door. I didn't look back. My father was waiting and, for the first time I could remember, he put his arm around me.

42

We emerged, through the four-columned portico, into the shaded courtyard. Dusk was settling but the area was well-lit from the foyer and adjacent windows. Twin floodlights on the flanking walls illuminated the Jaguar and a Wolseley parked either side of the entrance, their long black noses almost as officious as the two uniformed drivers who stood by their doors.

We waited for Mum and the Cabots to catch up and I heard Saul at reception demanding a taxi for Rachel and himself. There was no sign of Caroline or Kohler.

‘Where's your bike, Jack?' My father's query was brusque. Clearly I'd had my ration of sympathy for the evening.

‘In the car park, by the trees. It'll be alright for the night, I'm sure. Unless you want me to check?'

Rector Cabot edged past us and led the way to our car. He opened the rear doors for his wife and my mother. Father walked round the bonnet and waited for me to get in the passenger seat.

I looked over to where I'd left
Bessy
and gasped. Not only was
Boadicea
there but the Talbot 105, which my two assailants had driven, was parked alongside. I also spotted Caroline's Bugatti parked closer to the road. I pushed the door open again and got out.

‘Where do you think you are going?'

‘Sorry, but there's something I need to check.'

‘Oh no you don't. Get back in the car this minute!'

I had walked only a few paces when I felt his heavy hand on my shoulder. I shrugged him off.

He grabbed me again. ‘Now do as you are told, please. For your mother's sake, if not for mine.'

Just then he noticed
Boadicea
. ‘What's he doing here? We agreed he would keep out of it. He can't be bloody trusted. I should have guessed. Nothing but bloody trouble. This is all his bloody fault, isn't it?'

I didn't answer but bent down to touch the bike's cylinders. Still warm. I moved to the Talbot. The bonnet was cool to my touch. So they had been here for some time. I looked around.

Bessy
was still there but there was no sign of Fred or the Talbot's occupants. I turned to face my father. There wasn't time to explain about Carl and Alf.

‘Please trust me – I have to find Uncle Fred. It's important.'

I thought he'd shout at me but instead he grabbed my shoulders again, pulled me towards him then twisted my body, as easily as if I were one of his scarecrows, until the thin sunlight was on my face. His was in shade so I couldn't see his expression. He stared into my eyes. I squared my shoulders and stared back until he released me.

‘We've seen Fred. He's told us everything. That's why we're here. There's no need now. It's all over.'

So that's why they'd arrived. I wondered how much Fred had actually told them. I needed to find him. ‘Just let me talk to him. Please.'

He swallowed – anger, pride? I wasn't sure. He nodded unwillingly. ‘Go on then, but I'm coming with you.'

He called out to the car, ‘We won't be a minute.'

I started walking to the courtyard with my father a few steps behind. I stopped by the corner of the field under an oak tree. I felt his breath heavy on my neck.

There was movement in the entrance and Fairfield, Kempler and Kohler emerged, escorted by the taller of the two, men who, I now assumed, were plainclothes policemen. He took them to the Wolseley on the east side of the pillars. The other prodded the diamond merchant, Sleeman, in the back with one hand. With the other he held Schmitz's elbow and hurried the limping German to the Jaguar.

Hayden-Brown burst out between the columns, shouting, ‘You don't have the authority to do this. You are completely out of order. These people are my guests. How dare you cart them off like criminals!'

Fairfield stopped and spoke calmly to Hayden-Brown, ‘Wilbur, it's fine. These gentlemen know what they are doing. Don't fret, there's a good chap.'

The taller plainclothes policeman echoed his tone. ‘That's right, sir. It's for their own
protection
, if you understand my meaning. We're just going to the town hall to examine some information we have received. Nothing to worry about.'

‘That's not acceptable. I demand to know who provided this information. Speak up, man.' Hayden-Brown sounded as puzzled as I felt.

‘I did,' a voice whispered behind me.

I whirled round to find Fred standing there. Father pushed him away and raised his fist.

I stepped between them. ‘Shush. Wait a moment.' I hoped my voice hadn't carried. ‘What do you mean?'

‘I received a message from Hélène. The ship has disappeared. I used my phone and told the story about the Germans to my contact in England. He was furious. Kept reminding me I was on an open line. Well that was the point. I knew Special Branch would be informed. Much quicker than trying to explain to the locals. Seems they must have believed me. Then your parents arrived and I told them what they
needed
to know.'

I hoped that meant he hadn't told them or his contact about the diamonds and the shooting.

He pulled me aside gently and squared up to my father. ‘I'm sorry, Aubin, but this is very important. I'll tell you everything later but for the moment please trust me.'

My father glared back. I pushed between them. Fred was still facing down my father, their two figures indistinct in the shadows.

‘Stop it,' I hissed at them. ‘Whatever your quarrel, put it aside until this is over, please.'

Their breathing slowed and I focused my ears on the argument in the courtyard again.

‘Aubin, I think it might be best if you took Jack home now. I think this is going to get dangerous in a minute.' Then he was gone, melting back into the shadows.

My father's hand was on my shoulder again and I realised that, now Fred had abandoned me, I would have to relent.

As I started to relax against his grip, Caroline's strident voice rang from the entrance.

‘You bastards, let him go. He's got nothing to do with this. Father, do something right for once in your miserable life and tell them the fucking truth!'

Hayden-Brown, far from being stunned by his daughter's outburst, turned and slapped her across the face, a blow reinforced with what I suspected were years of frustration with her spoilt behaviour.

The slap echoed across the space and I winced.

The policemen seemed perplexed. One of the uniformed officers took Fairfield's arm and escorted him to the Wolseley. Sleeman followed him, along with Schmitz. Kempler and Kohler were ushered towards the Jaguar.

During this performance, I moved forward, closer to the outbuildings on the edge of the courtyard. My father followed.

I stopped as Rachel and Saul emerged from the foyer and stood still, surveying the confusion in front of them.

The policemen were starting to pack the two groups into their respective cars when Alf and his enforcer walked around the side of the building and confronted the two plainclothes men.

‘Thank you, we will take over from here, if you please.' Alf sounded very confident.

The policeman peered at him, clearly startled. ‘Who are you?'

‘I can't tell you that but, shall we say, I represent an authority higher than yours.'

‘Nonsense. Show me some identification.' His tone was more suspicious and I noted that little Carl had moved closer.

Alf laughed. ‘Fair enough. If you want to play that game. You show me yours and I'll show you mine.'

The policeman reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a black wallet. He flipped it open and held it close to Alf 's face.

Alf studied the details and made a show of checking the photograph. ‘Ah, Detective Sergeant Archibold Greaves, Metropolitan Police, Special Branch, 349625.' He turned to the other plainclothes man and held out his hand.

The man extracted his ID and held it up for inspection.

‘Detective Constable Clitheroe, same branch.' Alf handed it back, reached into his pocket and drew out a snub-nosed automatic. ‘Here's mine.' He pointed it at the sergeant and jerked his chin up, indicating that they should raise their hands.

Carl darted in and extracted two automatics from what must have been shoulder holsters. He pocketed them before patting both men down.

He nodded to Alf then spun on his heel and chopped the sergeant in the neck with the side of his hand. It was a vicious blow, delivered with all his force, and the policeman dropped to the ground.