The New Collected Short Stories

by Jeffrey Archer

  By the time Ruth had managed to get her husband into bed, he didn’t look any better. Although she knew he wouldn’t approve of the extra expense, she called for the hotel doctor.

  The doctor arrived within the hour, and after a full examination he surprised Ruth by asking for the details of what Angus had eaten for dinner. She tried to recollect the courses he had chosen, but all she could remember was that he had fallen in with Max’s suggestions. The doctor advised that Mr Henderson should be visited by a specialist first thing in the morning.

  ‘Poppycock,’ said Angus weakly. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me that our local GP won’t sort out just as soon as we’re back on Jersey. We’ll get the first flight home.’

  Ruth agreed with the doctor, but knew there was no point in arguing with her husband. When he eventually fell asleep, she went downstairs to phone Max and warn him that they would be returning to Jersey in the morning. He sounded concerned, and repeated his offer to do anything he could to help.

  When they boarded the aircraft the following morning and the chief steward saw the state Angus was in, it took all Ruth’s powers of persuasion to convince him to allow her husband to remain on the flight. ‘I must get him back to his own doctor as quickly as possible,’ she pleaded. The steward reluctantly acquiesced.

  Ruth had already phoned ahead to arrange for a car to meet them – something else Angus would not have approved of. But by the time the plane landed, Angus was no longer in any state to offer an opinion.

  As soon as Ruth had got him back to the house and into his own bed, she immediately called their GP. Dr Sinclair carried out the same examination as the London doctor had put him through, and he too asked what Angus had eaten the night before. He came to the same conclusion: Angus must see a specialist immediately.

  An ambulance came to pick him up later that afternoon and take him to the Cottage Hospital. When the specialist had completed his examination, he asked Ruth to join him in his room. ‘I’m afraid the news is not good, Mrs Henderson,’ he told her. ‘Your husband has suffered a heart attack, possibly aggravated by a long day and something he ate that didn’t agree with him. In the circumstances, I think it might be wise to bring the children back from school.’

  Ruth returned home later that night, not knowing who she could turn to. The phone rang, and when she picked it up she recognised the voice immediately.

  ‘Max,’ she blurted out, ‘I’m so glad you called. The specialist says Angus hasn’t long to live, and that I ought to bring the boys back home.’ She paused. ‘I don’t think I’m up to telling them what’s happened. You see, they adore their father.’

  ‘Leave it to me,’ said Max quietly. ‘I’ll ring the headmaster, go down and pick them up tomorrow morning, and fly over to Jersey with them.’

  ‘That’s so kind of you, Max.’

  ‘It’s the least I could do in the circumstances,’ said Max. ‘Now try and get some rest. You sound exhausted. I’ll call back as soon as I know which flight we’re on.’

  Ruth returned to the hospital and spent most of the night sitting by her husband’s bedside. The only other visitor, who Angus insisted on seeing, was the family solicitor. Ruth arranged for Mr Craddock to come the following morning, while she was at the airport picking up Max and the twins.

  Max strode out of the customs hall, the two boys walking on either side of him. Ruth was relieved to find that they were far calmer than she was. Max drove the three of them to the hospital. She was disappointed that Max planned to return to England on the afternoon flight, but as he explained, he felt this was a time for her to be with her family.

  Angus died peacefully in the St Helier Cottage Hospital the following Friday. Ruth and the twins were at his bedside.

  Max flew over for the funeral, and the next day accompanied the twins back to school. When Ruth waved them goodbye she wondered if she would ever hear from Max again.

  He phoned the next morning to ask how she was.

  ‘Lonely, and feeling a little guilty that I miss you more than I should.’ She paused. ‘When are you next planning to come to Jersey?’

  ‘Not for some time. Try not to forget that it was you who warned me that even the letterboxes chatter on Jersey.’

  ‘But what shall I do? The boys are away at school, and you’re stuck in London.’

  ‘Why don’t you join me in town? It will be a lot easier to lose ourselves over here, and frankly no one will recognise you in London.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right. Let me think about it, and then I’ll call you.’

  Ruth flew into Heathrow a week later, and Max was at the airport to greet her. She was touched by how thoughtful and gentle he was, never once complaining about her long silences, or the fact that she didn’t want to make love.

  When he drove her back to the airport on Monday morning, she clung on to him.

  ‘You know,’ she said, ‘I didn’t even get to see your flat or your office.’

  ‘I think it was sensible that you booked into a hotel this time. You can always see my office next time you come over.’

  She smiled for the first time since the funeral. When they parted at the airport, he took her in his arms and said, ‘I know it’s early days, my darling, but I want you to know how much I love you and hope that at some time in the future you might feel me worthy of taking Angus’s place.’

  She returned to St Helier that evening continually repeating his words, as if they were the lyrics of a song she could not get out of her mind.

  It must have been about a week later that she received a phone call from Mr Craddock, the family solicitor, who suggested that she drop into his office and discuss the implications of her late husband’s will. She made an appointment to see him the following morning.

  Ruth had assumed that as she and Angus had always led a comfortable life, her standard of living would continue much as before. After all, Angus was not the sort of man who would leave his affairs unresolved. She recalled how insistent he had been that Mr Craddock should visit him at the hospital.

  Ruth had never shown any interest in Angus’s business affairs. Although he was always careful with his money, if she had ever wanted something, he had never refused her. In any case, Max had just deposited a cheque for over £100,000 in Angus’s account, so she set off for the solicitor’s office the following morning confident that her late husband would have left quite enough for her to live on.

  She arrived a few minutes early. Despite this, the receptionist accompanied her straight through to the senior partner’s room. When she walked in, she found three men seated around the boardroom table. They immediately rose from their places, and Mr Craddock introduced them as partners of the firm. Ruth assumed they must have come to pay their respects, but they resumed their seats and continued to study the thick files placed in front of them. For the first time, Ruth became anxious. Surely Angus’s estate was in order?

  The senior partner took his seat at the top of the table, untied a bundle of documents and extracted a thick parchment, then looked up at his late client’s wife.

  ‘Firstly, may I express on behalf of the firm the sadness we all felt when we learned of Mr Henderson’s death,’ he began.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Ruth, bowing her head.

  ‘We asked you to come here this morning so that we could advise you of the details of your late husband’s will. Afterwards, we shall be happy to answer any questions you might have.’

  Ruth went cold, and began trembling. Why hadn’t Angus warned her that there were likely to be problems?

  The solicitor read through the preamble, finally coming to the bequests.

  ‘I leave all my worldly goods to my wife Ruth, with the exception of the following bequests:

  ‘a) £200 each to both of my sons Nicholas and Ben, which I would like them to spend on something in my memory.

  ‘b) £500 to the Scottish Royal Academy, to be used for the purchase of a picture of their choice, which must be by a Scottish artist.

/>   ‘c) £1,000 to George Watson College, my old school, and a further £2,000 to Edinburgh University.’

  The solicitor continued with a list of smaller bequests, ending with a gift of £100 to the Cottage Hospital which had taken such good care of Angus during the last few days of his life.

  The senior partner looked up at Ruth and asked, ‘Do you have any questions, Mrs Henderson, which we might advise you on? Or will you be happy for us to administer your affairs in the same way as we did your late husband’s?’

  ‘To be honest, Mr Craddock, Angus never discussed his affairs with me, so I’m not sure what all this means. As long as there’s enough for the boys and myself to go on living in the way we did when he was alive, I’m happy for you to continue to administer our affairs.’

  The partner seated on Mr Craddock’s right said, ‘I had the privilege of advising Mr Henderson since he first arrived on the island some seven years ago, Mrs Henderson, and would be happy to answer any questions you may have.’

  ‘That’s extremely kind of you,’ said Ruth, ‘but I have no idea what questions to ask, other than perhaps to know roughly how much my husband was worth.’

  ‘That is not quite so easy to answer,’ Mr Craddock said, ‘because he left so little in cash. However, it has been my responsibility to calculate a figure for probate,’ he added, opening one of the files in front of him. ‘My initial judgement, which is perhaps on the conservative side, would suggest a sum of somewhere between eighteen and twenty million.’

  ‘Francs?’ said Ruth in a whisper.

  ‘No, pounds, madam,’ said Mr Craddock matter-of-factly.

  After some considerable thought, Ruth decided that she would not let anyone know of her good fortune, including the children. When she flew into London the following weekend, she told Max that Angus’s solicitors had briefed her on the contents of Angus’s will and the value of his estate.

  ‘Any surprises?’ Max asked.

  ‘No, not really. He left the boys a couple of hundred pounds each, and with the £100,000 you managed to raise on the sale of our house in the Ardennes, there should be just about enough to keep the wolves from the door, as long as I’m not too extravagant. So I fear you’ll have to go on working if you still want me to be your wife.’

  ‘Even more. I would have hated the idea of living off Angus’s money. In fact, I’ve got some good news for you. The firm has asked me to look into the possibility of opening a branch in St Helier early in the new year. I’ve told them that I’ll only consider the offer on one condition.’

  ‘And what’s that?’ asked Ruth.

  ‘That one of the locals agrees to be my wife.’

  Ruth took him in her arms, never more confident that she had found the right man to spend the rest of her life with.

  Max and Ruth were married at the Chelsea register office three months later, with only the twins as witnesses, and even they had been reluctant to attend. ‘He’ll never take the place of our father,’ Ben had told his mother with considerable feeling. Nicholas had nodded his agreement.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Max, as they drove to the airport. ‘Only time will sort out that problem.’

  As they flew out of Heathrow to begin their honeymoon, Ruth mentioned that she had been a little disappointed that none of Max’s friends had attended the ceremony.

  ‘We don’t need to attract unpleasant comments so soon after Angus’s death,’ he told her. ‘It might be wise to let a little time go by before I launch you on London society.’ He smiled and took her hand. Ruth accepted his assurance, and put aside any anxieties she might have had.

  The plane touched down at Venice airport three hours later, and they were whisked away on a motorboat to a hotel overlooking St Mark’s Square. Everything seemed so well organised, and Ruth was surprised at how willing her new husband was to spend hours in the fashion shops helping her select numerous outfits. He even chose a dress for her that she considered far too expensive. For a whole week of lazing about on gondolas, he never once left her side for a moment.

  On the Friday, Max hired a car and drove his bride south to Florence, where they strolled back and forth over the bridges together, visiting the Uffizi, the Pitti Palace and the Accademia. In the evenings they ate too much pasta and joined in the dancing in the market square, often returning to their hotel just as the sun was rising. They reluctantly flew on to Rome for the third week, where the hotel bedroom, the Coliseum, the opera house and the Vatican occupied most of their spare moments. The three weeks passed so quickly that Ruth couldn’t recall the individual days.

  She wrote to the boys every evening before going to bed, describing what a wonderful holiday she was having, always emphasising how kind Max was. She so much wanted them to accept him, but feared that might take more than time.

  When she and Max returned to St Helier, he continued to be considerate and attentive. The only disappointment for Ruth was that he didn’t have much success in finding premises for the new branch of his company. He would disappear at around ten every morning, but seemed to spend more time at the golf club than he did in town. ‘Networking,’ he would explain, ‘because that’s what will matter once the branch is open.’

  ‘When do you think that will be?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘Not too much longer now,’ he assured her. ‘You have to remember that the most important thing in my business is to open in the right location. It’s much better to wait for a prime site than to settle for second best.’

  But as the weeks passed, Ruth became anxious that Max didn’t seem to be getting any nearer to finding that prime site. Whenever she raised the subject he accused her of nagging, which meant that she didn’t feel able to bring it up again for at least another month.

  When they had been married for six months, she suggested that they might take a weekend off and visit London. ‘It would give me a chance to meet some of your friends and catch up with the theatre, and you could report back to your company.’

  Each time, Max found some new excuse for not falling in with her plans. But he did agree that they should return to Venice to celebrate their first wedding anniversary.

  Ruth hoped the two-week break would revive the memories of their previous visit, and might even inspire Max, when he returned to Jersey, to finally settle on some premises. As it was, the anniversary couldn’t have been in greater contrast to the honeymoon they had shared the year before.

  It was raining as the plane touched down at Venice airport, and they stood shivering in a long queue as they waited for a taxi. When they arrived at the hotel, Ruth discovered that Max thought she had organised the booking. He lost his temper with the innocent manager, and stormed out of the building. After they had trudged around in the rain with their luggage for over an hour, they ended up in a backstreet hotel that could only supply a small room with single beds, above the bar.

  Over drinks that evening, Max confessed that he had left his credit cards in Jersey, so he hoped Ruth wouldn’t mind covering the bills until they got home. She seemed to have been covering most of the bills lately anyway, but decided now was not the time to raise the subject.

  In Florence, Ruth hesitantly mentioned over breakfast that she hoped he would have more luck in finding premises for his company once they returned to Jersey, and enquired innocently if the firm was becoming at all anxious about his lack of progress.

  Max immediately flew into a rage and walked out of the breakfast room, telling her to stop nagging him all the time. She didn’t see him for the rest of the day.

  In Rome it continued to rain, and Max didn’t help matters by regularly going off without warning, sometimes arriving back at the hotel long after she had gone to bed.

  Ruth was relieved when the plane took off for Jersey. Once they were back in St Helier she made every effort not to nag, and to try to be supportive and understanding about Max’s lack of progress. But however hard she tried, her efforts were met either with long sullen silences or bouts of temper.

  As the
months passed, they seemed to grow further and further apart, and Ruth no longer bothered to ask how the search for premises was going. She had long ago assumed that the whole idea had been abandoned, and could only wonder if Max had ever been given such an assignment in the first place.

  It was over breakfast one morning that Max suddenly announced that the firm had decided against opening a branch in St Helier, and had written to tell him that if he wanted to remain as a partner, he would have to return to London and resume his old position.

  ‘And if you refuse?’ asked Ruth. ‘Is there an alternative?’

  ‘They’ve made it all too clear that they would expect me to hand in my resignation.’

  ‘I’d be quite happy to move to London,’ Ruth suggested, hoping that might solve their problems.

  ‘No, I don’t think that would help,’ said Max, who had obviously already decided what the solution was. ‘I think it would be better if I spent the week in London, and then flew back to be with you at weekends.’

  Ruth did not think that was a good idea, but she knew that any protest would be pointless.

  Max flew to London the following day.

  Ruth couldn’t remember the last time they had made love, and when Max didn’t return to Jersey for their second wedding anniversary she accepted an invitation to join Gerald Prescott for dinner.

  The twins’ old housemaster was, as always, kind and considerate, and when they were alone he did no more than kiss Ruth on the cheek. She decided to tell him about the problems she was having with Max, and he listened attentively, occasionally nodding his understanding. As Ruth looked across the table at her old friend, she felt the sad first thoughts of divorce. She dismissed them quickly from her mind.

  When Max returned home the following weekend, Ruth decided to make a special effort. She spent the morning shopping in the market, selecting fresh ingredients for his favourite dish, coq au vin, and picking out a vintage claret to complement it. She wore the dress he had chosen for her in Venice, and drove to the airport to meet him off the plane. He didn’t arrive on his usual flight, but strolled through the barrier two hours later, explaining that he had been held up at Heathrow. He didn’t apologise for the hours she had spent pacing around the airport lounge, and when they eventually arrived back home and sat down for dinner, he made no comment on the meal, the wine or her dress.