A Twist in the Tale

by Jeffrey Archer

  Angela Bradbury’s help was never sought.

  All three continued on their separate ways.

  * * *

  Two years later when Gerald Haskins won a place at Durham University, no one was surprised that he chose to read engineering and listed as his main hobby collecting medals.

  Walter Ramsbottom joined his father in the family jewelry business and started courting Angela Bradbury.

  It was during the spring holiday in Gerald’s second year at Durham that he came across Walter and Angela again. They were sitting in the same row at a Bach quintet concert in Hull Town Hall. Walter told him in the interval that they had just become engaged but had not yet settled on a date for the wedding.

  Gerald hadn’t seen Angela for over a year but this time he did listen to her opinions, because like Walter he fell in love with her.

  He replaced eating cornflakes with continually inviting Angela out to dinner in an effort to win her away from his old rival.

  Gerald notched up another victory when Angela returned her engagement ring to Walter a few days before Christmas.

  Walter spread it around that Gerald only wanted to marry Angela because her father was chairman of the Hull City Amenities Committee and he was hoping to get a job with the council after he’d taken his degree at Durham. When the invitations for the wedding were sent out, Walter was not on the guest list.

  The marriage took place at St. Peter’s and the reception that followed afterward was at the Dragon Arms.

  * * *

  Mr. and Mrs. Haskins traveled to Multavia for their honeymoon, partly because they couldn’t afford Nice and didn’t want to go to Cleethorpes. In any case, the local travel agent was making a special offer for those considering a visit to the tiny kingdom that was sandwiched between Austria and Czechoslovakia.

  When the newly married couple arrived at their hotel in Teske, the capital, they discovered why the terms had been so reasonable.

  Multavia was, in 1959, going through an identity crisis as it attempted to adjust to yet another treaty drawn up by a Dutch lawyer in Geneva, written in French, but with the Russians and Americans in mind. However, thanks to King Alfons III, their shrewd and popular monarch, the kingdom continued to enjoy uninterrupted grants from the West and nondisruptive visits from the East.

  The capital of Multavia, the Hawkinses were quickly to discover, had an average temperature of 92°F in June, no rainfall and the remains of a sewerage system that had been indiscriminately bombed by both sides between 1939 and 1944. Angela actually found herself holding her nose as she walked through the cobbled streets. The People’s Hotel claimed to have forty-five rooms, but what the brochure did not point out was that only three of them had bathrooms and none of those had bath plugs. Then there was the food, or lack of it; for the first time in his life Gerald lost weight.

  The honeymoon couple were also to discover that Multavia boasted no monuments, art galleries, theaters or opera houses worthy of the name and the outlying country was flatter and less interesting than the fens of Cambridgeshire. The kingdom had no coastline and the only river, the Plotz, flowed from Germany and on into Russia, thus ensuring that none of the locals trusted it.

  By the end of their honeymoon the Haskinses were only too pleased to find that Multavia did not boast a national airline. BOAC got them home safely, and that would have been the end of Gerald’s experience of Multavia had it not been for those sewers—or the lack of them.

  * * *

  Once the Haskinses had returned to Hull, Gerald took up his appointment as an assistant in the engineering department of the city council. His first job was as a third engineer with special responsibility for the city’s sewerage. Most ambitious young men would have treated such an appointment as nothing more than a step on life’s ladder. Gerald, however, did not. He quickly made contact with all the leading sewerage companies, their advisers as well as his opposite numbers throughout the country.

  Two years later he was able to put in front of his father-in-law’s committee a paper showing how the council could save a considerable amount of the ratepayers’ money by redeveloping its sewerage system.

  The committee were impressed and decided to carry out Mr. Haskins’ recommendation, and at the same time appointed him second engineer.

  That was the first occasion Walter Ramsbottom stood for the council but he failed to get elected.

  When, three years later, the network of little tunnels and waterways had been completed, Gerald’s diligence was rewarded by his appointment as deputy borough engineer. In the same year his father-in-law became Mayor and Walter Ramsbottom became a councillor.

  Councils up and down the country were now acknowledging Gerald as a man whose opinion should be sought if they had any anxieties about their sewerage system. This provoked an irreverent round of jokes at every Rotary Club dinner Gerald attended, but they nevertheless still hailed him as the leading authority in his field, or drain.

  When in 1966 the Borough of Halifax considered putting out to tender the building of a new sewerage system they first consulted Gerald Haskins—Yorkshire being the one place on earth where a prophet is with honor in his own country.

  After spending a day in Halifax with the town council’s senior engineer and realizing how much had to be spent on the new system, Gerald remarked to his wife, not for the first time, “Where there’s muck there’s brass.” But it was Angela who was shrewd enough to work out just how much of that brass her husband could get hold of with the minimum of risk. During the next few days Gerald considered his wife’s proposition, and when he returned to Halifax the following week it was not to visit the council chambers but the Midland Bank. Gerald did not select the Midland by chance; the manager of the bank was also chairman of the planning committee on the Halifax borough council.

  A deal that suited both sides was struck between the two Yorkshiremen, and with the bank’s blessing Gerald resigned his position as deputy borough engineer and formed a private company. When he presented his tender, in competition with several large organizations from London, no one was surprised that Haskins of Hull was selected unanimously by the planning committee to carry out the job.

  Three years later Halifax had a fine new sewerage system and the Midland Bank was delighted to be holding Haskins of Hull’s company account.

  * * *

  Over the next fifteen years Chester, Runcorn, Hudders-field, Darlington, Macclesfield and York were jointly and severally grateful for the services rendered to them by Gerald Haskins, of Haskins & Co.

  Haskins & Co. (International P.L.C.) then began contract work in Dubai, Lagos and Rio de Janeiro. In 1983 Gerald received the Queen’s Award for Industry from a grateful government, and a year later he was made a Commander of the British Empire by a grateful monarch.

  The investiture took place at Buckingham Palace in the same year as King Alfons III of Multavia died and was succeeded by his son King Alfons IV. The newly crowned King decided something had finally to be done about the drainage problems of Teske. It had been his father’s dying wish that his people should not go on suffering those unseemly smells, and King Alfons IV did not intend to bequeath the problem to his son, another Alfons.

  After much begging and borrowing from the West, and much visiting and talking with the East, the newly anointed monarch decided to invite tenders for a new sewerage system in the kingdom’s capital.

  The tender document supplying several pages of details and listing the problems facing any engineer who wished to face the challenge arrived with a thud on most of the boardroom tables of the world’s major engineering companies. Once the paperwork had been seriously scrutinized and the realistic opportunity for a profit considered, King Alfons IV received only a few replies. Nevertheless, the King was able to sit up all night considering the merits of the three interested companies that had been shortlisted. Kings are also human, and when Alfons discovered that Gerald had chosen Multavia for his honeymoon some twenty-five years before, it tipped the ba
lance. By the time Alfons IV fell asleep that morning he had decided to accept Haskins & Co. (International P.L.C.) tender.

  And thus Gerald Haskins made his second visit to Multavia, this time accompanied by a site manager, three draftsmen and eleven engineers. Gerald had a private audience with the King and assured him the job would be completed on time and for the price specified. He also told the King how much he was enjoying his second visit to Multavia. However, when he returned to England he assured his wife that there was still little in Multavia that could be described as entertainment before or after the hour of seven.

  * * *

  A few years later and after some considerable haggling over the increase in the cost of materials, Teske ended up with one of the finest sewerage systems in Central Europe. The King was delighted—although he continued to grumble about how Haskins & Co. had overrun the original contract price. The words “contingency payment” had to be explained to the monarch several times, who realized that the extra two hundred and forty thousand pounds would have to be in turn explained to the East and “borrowed” from the West. After many veiled threats and “without prejudice” solicitors’ letters, Haskins & Co. received the final payment but not until the King had been given a further grant from the British government, a payment which involved the Midland Bank, Sloane Street, London, transferring a sum of money to the Midland Bank, High Street, Hull, without Multavia ever getting their hands on it. This was, after all, Gerald explained to his wife, how most overseas aid was distributed.

  * * *

  Thus the story of Gerald Haskins and the drainage problems of Teske might have ended, had not the British Foreign Secretary decided to pay a visit to the kingdom of Multavia.

  The original purpose of the Foreign Secretary’s European trip was to take in Warsaw and Prague, in order to see how glasnost and perestroika were working in those countries. But when the Foreign Office discovered how much aid had been allocated to Multavia and they also explained to their minister its role as a buffer state, the Foreign Secretary decided to accept King Alfons’ longstanding invitation to visit the tiny kingdom. Such excursions to smaller countries by British Foreign Secretaries usually take place in airport lounges, a habit the British picked up from Henry Kissinger, and later Comrade Gorbachev; but not on this occasion. It was felt Multavia warranted a full day.

  As the hotels had improved only slightly since the days of Gerald’s honeymoon, the Foreign Secretary was invited to lodge at the palace. He was asked by the King to undertake only two official engagements during his brief stay: the opening of the capital’s new sewerage system, followed by a formal banquet.

  Once the Foreign Secretary had agreed to these requests the King invited Gerald and his wife to be present at the opening ceremony—at their own expense. When the day of the opening came the Foreign Secretary delivered the appropriate speech for the occasion. He first praised Gerald Hawkins on a remarkable piece of work in the great tradition of British engineering, then commended Multavia for her shrewd common sense in awarding the contract to a British company in the first place. The Foreign Secretary omitted to mention the fact that the British government had ended up underwriting the entire project. Gerald, however, was touched by the minister’s words and said as much to the Foreign Secretary after the latter had pulled the lever that opened the first sluice gate.

  That evening in the palace there was a banquet for over three hundred guests, including the ambassadorial corps and several leading British businessmen. There followed the usual interminable speeches about “historic links,” Multavia’s role in Anglo-Soviet affairs and the “special relationship” with Britain’s own royal family.

  The highlight of the evening, however, came after the speeches when the King made two investitures. The first was the award of the Order of the Peacock (Second Class) to the Foreign Secretary. “The highest award a commoner can receive,” the King explained to the assembled audience, “as the Order of the Peacock (First Class) is reserved only for royalty and heads of state.”

  The King then announced a second investiture. The Order of the Peacock (Third Class) was to be awarded to Gerald Haskins, CBE, for his work on the drainage system of Teske. Gerald was surprised and delighted as he was conducted from his place on the top table to join the King, who leaned forward to put a large gold chain encrusted with gems of various colors and sizes over his visitor’s head. Gerald took two respectful paces backward and bowed low, as the Foreign Secretary looked up from his seat and smiled encouragingly at him.

  Gerald was the last foreign guest to leave the banquet that night. Angela, who had left on her own over two hours before, had already fallen asleep by the time Gerald returned to their hotel room. He placed the chain on the bed, undressed, put on his pajamas, checked his wife was still asleep and then placed the chain back over his head to rest on his shoulders.

  Gerald stood and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror for several minutes. He could not wait to return home.

  The moment Gerald got back to Hull he dictated a letter to the Foreign Office. He requested permission to be allowed to wear his new award on those occasions when it stipulated on the bottom right-hand corner of invitation cards that decorations and medals should be worn. The Foreign Office duly referred the matter to the Palace where the Queen, a distant cousin of King Alfons IV, agreed to the request.

  The next official occasion at which Gerald was given the opportunity to sport the Order of the Peacock was the Mayor-making ceremony held in the chamber of Hull’s City Hall, which was to be preceded by dinner at the Guildhall.

  Gerald returned especially from Lagos for the occasion and even before changing into his dinner jacket couldn’t resist a glance at the Order of the Peacock (Third Class). He opened the box that held his prize possession and stared down in disbelief: the gold had become tarnished and one of the stones looked as if it were coming loose. Mrs. Haskins stopped dressing in order to steal a glance at the order. “It’s not gold,” she declared with a simplicity that would have stopped the IMF in their tracks.

  Gerald offered no comment and quickly fixed the loose stone back in place with araldite but he had to admit to himself that the craftsmanship didn’t bear careful scrutiny. Neither of them mentioned the subject again on their journey to Hull’s City Hall.

  Some of the guests during the Mayor’s dinner that night at the Guildhall inquired after the lineage of the Order of the Peacock (Third Class), and although it gave Gerald some considerable satisfaction to explain how he had come by the distinction and indeed the Queen’s permission to wear it on official occasions, he felt one or two of his colleagues had been less than awed by the tarnished peacock. Gerald also considered it was somewhat unfortunate that they had ended up on the same table as Walter Ramsbottom, now the Deputy Mayor.

  “I suppose it would be hard to put a true value on your peacock,” said Walter, staring disdainfully at the chain.

  “It certainly would,” said Gerald firmly.

  “I didn’t mean a monetary value,” said the jeweler with a smirk. “That would be only too easy to ascertain. I meant a sentimental value, of course.”

  “Of course,” said Gerald. “And are you expecting to be the Mayor next year?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

  “It is the tradition,” said Walter, “that the Deputy succeeds the Mayor if he doesn’t do a second year. And be assured, Gerald, that I shall see to it that you are placed on the top table for that occasion.” Walter paused. “The Mayor’s chain, you know, is fourteen-carat gold.”

  Gerald left the banquet early that evening determined to do something about the Order of the Peacock before it was Walter’s turn to be Mayor.

  None of Gerald’s friends would have described him as an extravagant man and even his wife was surprised at the whim of vanity that was to follow. At nine o’clock the next morning Gerald rang his office to say he would not be in to work that day. He then traveled by train to London to visit Bond Street in general and a famed jeweler
in particular.

  * * *

  The door of the Bond Street shop was opened for Gerald by a sergeant from the Corps of Commissionaires. Once he had stepped inside Gerald explained his problem to the tall, thin gentleman in a black suit who had come forward to welcome him. He was then led to a circular glass counter in the middle of the shop floor.

  “Our Mr. Pullinger will be with you in a moment,” he was assured. Moments later Asprey’s fine-gems expert arrived and happily agreed to Gerald’s request to value the Order of the Peacock (Third Class). Mr. Pullinger placed the chain on a black velvet cushion before closely studying the stones through a small eyeglass.

  After a cursory glance he frowned with the disappointment of a man who has won third prize at a shooting range on Blackpool pier.

  “So what’s it worth?” asked Gerald bluntly after several minutes had elapsed.

  “Hard to put a value on something so intricately—” Pullinger hesitated, “unusual.”

  “The stones are glass and the gold’s brass, that’s what you’re trying to say, isn’t it, lad?”

  Mr. Pullinger gave a look that indicated that he could not have put it more succinctly himself.

  “You might possibly be able to get a few hundred pounds from someone who collects such objects, but…”

  “Oh, no,” said Gerald, quite offended. “I have no interest in selling it. My purpose in coming up to London was to find out if you can copy it.”

  “Copy it?” said the expert in disbelief.

  “Aye,” said Gerald. “First, I want every stone to be the correct gem according to its color. Second, I expect a setting that would impress a duchess. And third, I require the finest craftsman put to work on it in nothing less than eighteen-carat gold.”

  The expert from Asprey’s, despite years of dealing with Arab clients, was unable to conceal his surprise.

  “It would not be cheap,” he uttered sotto voce: the word “cheap” was one of which Asprey’s so clearly disapproved.

  “I never doubted that for a moment,” said Gerald. “But you must understand that this is a once-in-a-lifetime honor for me. Now when could I hope to have an estimate?”