By the Wednesday, what had been a shocking excitement, a near fantasy, had become hard reality. Hundreds of thousands of people were ruined. And Max saw Freddy Praeger, sitting at his desk in St James’s, ashen, shaking, chain smoking, refusing to go home, and realized the full extent of what he had done to Praegers.
That weekend, Tommy received a call from the Daily Mail. So did Max. Max rang Hartest; Nanny answered the phone.
‘Nanny, you may get a call from the press,’ he said.
‘We have already,’ said Nanny.
‘Oh God. What did you say?’
‘I told them your father was away. And that if they had nothing better to do than ring us up, they should start looking for different jobs.’
‘Nanny, you’re wonderful.’
On the Monday Freddy and Chuck took off for New York. And the story was in the diary:
Max the Mystery Man Persistent rumours surround the background of Maximilian, Viscount Hadleigh to the effect that Lord Caterham is not in fact his true father. Viscount Hadleigh, who works as a dealer in his American grandfather’s bank, Praegers, has been too busy in the aftermath of the crash to comment on the story, and Lord Caterham was unavailable at the family’s Wiltshire seat yesterday.
Lord Hadleigh, a colourful character, who has worked as a photographic model for several years, and who was until recently engaged to Gemma Morton, debutante daughter of Richard, the stockbroker king, now spends much of his leisure time with Mrs Angela Praeger, the widow of his uncle ‘Baby’ Praeger. Mrs Praeger, who runs her own property company, has been close to the family for many years.
Mr Tommy Soames-Maxwell, a close friend of the family, who shares a house with Viscount Hadleigh, was also unavailable for comment over the weekend.
Max rang Angie. ‘The shit’s hit the fan,’ he said.
‘I know. I suppose it could be worse.’
‘It could. It could be on the front page.’
‘Just keep saying nothing,’ said Charles. ‘It’s the only thing that will work.’
Jake Joseph called. ‘What’s all this, my son? I always said you were a little bastard. Seems I was right.’
‘It’s a load of shit,’ said Max. ‘Just a complete fabrication.’
‘Of course it is,’ said Jake. ‘I hope this doesn’t mean your gorgeous sister was born on the wrong side of the blanket as well.’
‘Oh go to hell,’ said Max irritably.
Tommy rang to say he was really enjoying it and couldn’t he just make up one story to tell them?
Max said if he did, he was a dead man. Dead by starvation.
Several other people called. Max decided to use Nanny’s line. It seemed to work.
Max took Shireen to lunch at the Ritz.
‘It’s exciting you being in the papers,’ she said, looking at him interestedly. ‘How did that story start?’
‘I can’t imagine,’ said Max, ‘but you know what they say. Never believe anything you read in the papers.’
‘Yes,’ said Shireen, gazing at him, her eyes interestingly bland, ‘and you know what else they say. There’s no smoke without fire.’
Max looked at her thoughtfully. ‘If you promise not to say anything to anybody, I’ll tell you how it started.’
‘Oh Max, of course I promise.’
‘It’s an old old story that’s gone around for years. It’s because some halfwitted servant we had went around saying that I was adopted. It resurfaces from time to time.’
‘But why?’
‘I told you. She was half-witted. And my father had fired her. I suppose it was her idea of revenge. She just went on putting it about. That’s all. But you really must not talk to anyone about that.’
‘Oh Max, you know I won’t.’
Max gave her some more champagne, patted her hand and turned the conversation to Praegers. There seemed a strong possibility that Praegers London was going belly up.
‘Bretts went right down the pan, apparently. And that was just one of Freddy’s little games,’ said Max to Charlotte. ‘He’s off to do a whitewash job. See what they can haul out of the ashes. While Fred’s away.’
‘Well they can’t do much,’ said Charlotte. ‘Fred’s not stupid.’
‘They can buy some time. Praegers New York hasn’t done too badly. I just talked to your friend Gabe. They have huge reserves, and they weren’t seriously exposed. It’s my guess Chuck is going to try and transfer some money from New York to London, to cover the losses.’
‘He can’t do that, surely. Not without Grandpa knowing.’
‘He probably could. Chris Hill would have access to the funds. He could certainly authorize a transfer. But Grandpa would pretty soon know about it. I suppose they can at least buy some time.’
‘Not a lot, I hope,’ said Charlotte.
When Max was getting ready to leave that night, the girl in reception phoned up to him.
‘There’s a couple of reporters down here,’ she said. ‘What shall I do with them?’
‘Just ignore them,’ said Max.
He went along to see Shireen.
‘The press is downstairs,’ he said, ‘don’t start talking to them, will you? You’ll have your picture all over the papers in no time.’
‘Max, of course I won’t.’
Max rang Nanny and told her to unplug the telephones.
The following day, both the Mail and the Mirror had a picture of Shireen on one of their inside pages, and a story about what the Mail described as Below Stairs Talk, and the Mirror described as the Servant Girl’s Revenge.
Charles was cautiously optimistic; he said if this was what the papers were reduced to, they clearly hadn’t got anything more tangible to say.
Nanny was indignant, and said Max could have warned her, but that she and Mrs Tallow had both dealt with the reporters very firmly, and told them the girl in question had left twenty years earlier.
‘I told you not to talk to them,’ said Max.
‘I wanted to talk to them,’ said Nanny. ‘Mrs Tallow and I are enjoying it.’
‘Oh,’ said Max humbly. ‘Well, don’t say anything more, will you, Nanny? And keep it from Alexander.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Nanny.
Shireen was defiantly apologetic.
‘They promised they wouldn’t use it, they said they just wanted some background.’
‘Just the same, I told you not to talk to them. Honestly, Shireen.’
‘Sorry, Max.’
Max grinned at her. ‘Never mind. You can repay me one day.’
The strange thing was, he found, now that the thing he had been dreading for so long, the doubt over his parentage, had been publicly cast, that people were talking about it, discussing it, gossiping about it, debating it, he simply didn’t care. It seemed infinitely foolish somehow, unbelievable, as unlikely to him as it sounded, as it looked, there in the paper, in black and white.
He was almost – not enjoying it, but just possibly savouring it. He embellished and embroidered the story of the sacked servant, and when nobody seemed to be interested in it any more, he was almost put out.
‘I think,’ he said to Charlotte, ‘we may have laid the ghost.’
‘I think you’re speaking a little soon,’ she said.
Freddy and Chuck came back after three days. They looked tired, but considerably more cheerful. There was something else about them; something Charlotte and Max didn’t like.
‘They look as if they’ve got something on us,’ said Charlotte. ‘I’m worried.’
They had come in at midday; they went for a long lunch at the Ritz, and then continued drinking for some time in the boardroom. At six o’clock Chuck wandered into the trading room.
‘Come and join us in the boardroom,’ he said, ‘have a drink.’
‘Sorry. Got a prior engagement,’ said Max cheerfully.
‘This is more important,’ said Chuck, with one of his plastic smiles. ‘I think you’ll agree when you hear.’
Max went down to the boardroom with a sense of vague anxiety but no more. He could not believe Chuck and Freddy could have pulled off anything very dramatic. Charlotte was there, looking equally cheerful.
Chuck had his back to them as they went in; he turned to face them.
‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘This business in the papers must have been awkward for you.’
‘Not really,’ said Max. ‘It seems to have died a death now. I wonder how they got the story in the first place.’
‘I can’t imagine,’ said Chuck. ‘Drink?’
‘No,’ said Max. ‘Thank you.’
Chuck shrugged. ‘You could need it,’ he said. ‘Charlotte?’
‘No thank you,’ said Charlotte. ‘Er – is everything all right?’
Chuck turned innocent eyes on her, gave her his most charming smile. ‘Absolutely fine. Why shouldn’t it be?’
‘Oh – we thought there were problems. After the crash.’
‘Well naturally we have problems. Everyone does. But nothing that can’t be contained. No cause for serious concern.’
Charlotte’s eyes met Max’s. They’ve done a transfer, said her look. Chris Hill’s played ball with them.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘I’m so pleased.’
‘Now,’ said Chuck, ‘are you sure you don’t want a drink?’
‘Yes, I’m quite sure,’ said Charlotte puzzled.
Chuck shrugged. ‘OK. You’re going to take this neat then? No watering down? No Valium?’
‘Chuck,’ said Max. ‘Take what neat? Get to the point.’
‘OK. It’s about your house, Max. Or rather your – your father’s house.’
Max felt a thud of alarm. What on earth did Hartest have to do with all this? ‘Yes?’
‘He’s very fond of it. Isn’t he?’
‘Of course he is,’ said Max irritably. ‘It’s a beautiful house and it’s the family seat.’
‘Er – yes. That means it actually belongs to the family and all that?’
‘Yes of course.’
Chuck shook his head, regret oozing out of his brown eyes. ‘Sorry. It doesn’t.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Max was too shocked, too caught off guard to respond in a way that was at all clever.
‘I said it doesn’t.’ Chuck smiled at him, sat down on one of the arms of the great carver chair that stood at the head of the table. ‘I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. While I was over there, I did quite a lot of investigation into the bank’s affairs. Very complex, some of them. Your grandfather has some very interesting assets. The ranch, for instance, in Venezuela, worth billions now. A fortune in Swiss francs. And then, this English property.’
‘What?’ said Max. He felt very sick suddenly. Freddy was standing by the window looking at him, smiling his dreadful chill smile.
‘Hartest House,’ said Chuck ‘– is that its correct name? – belongs to Praegers. Of course it’s small beer, as you say over here. But every little is going to help at the moment. Unless of course you can let me have – let me see, what was it? – oh yes, six million pounds right away, I shall have to put it on the market. I’m calling in the loan.’
Alexander sat, his head in his hands, at the table in the gun room.
‘It was years ago,’ he said, ‘years and years. Your mother was still alive. Fred let me have the money; there was dry rot, right through the structure, and the house needed a new roof. It was a formal arrangement; I wouldn’t have agreed to anything else.’
‘Nor would Grandpa,’ said Max grimly.
‘Possibly not. Anyway, things have been difficult lately. The estate hasn’t entirely been paying its way. I got – behind with the repayments.’
‘How far behind?’ Charlotte’s voice was oddly harsh.
‘Oh – I haven’t paid for – well, for about three years.’
‘Three years! Daddy, that’s a long time.’
‘Yes, I know. I’m sorry. Darling, don’t look at me like that.’
‘I’m sorry. I wish we’d known, that’s all.’
‘Yes, well. I didn’t want to worry you. I went to see Fred, last year. He was – quite good about it. Really. Told me to sort it out as and when.’
‘That doesn’t sound quite like Grandpa,’ said Charlotte. ‘And –?’
‘Well – I had planned to. Of course. At such time as I got straight.’
‘And things are looking pretty crooked still?’
‘Yes. I’m afraid so.’
‘Was there anything in writing then? Last year I mean. From Grandpa?’
‘Er – no. Not exactly. At the time he wasn’t too well.’
‘Shit,’ said Max.
‘Daddy,’ said Charlotte, feeling rather cold, ‘Daddy, do you have a copy of the mortgage document? That I can show my lawyer friend?’
Alexander’s face had taken on its helplessly distant look. Charlotte felt her heart begin to sink.
‘No. Yes. Oh, I don’t know. Does it matter?’
‘Yes, Daddy. Yes, I think it does. But I’m sure it can be sorted. I mean there’s no way Grandpa is going to allow them to call in that loan. It’s ridiculous. We’re family.’
‘Grandpa’s away,’ said Max, ‘on his second honeymoon. Remember?’
‘Max, don’t be absurd. This is 1987. People are contactable, even on the high seas.’
‘I suppose so.’ Max sounded gloomy.
They started going through his files. They were a nightmare, as disorderly as Virginia’s had been orderly. Vets’ bills were mixed up with instructions to his bank, accounts from his stockbroker with letters to the children’s schools. Finally, after a long weekend of searching, they found the relevant document. Charlotte took it to Charles St Mullin.
‘Have you read it?’ he said.
‘Yes I have. I’m just hoping I’ve misunderstood.’
‘I’m afraid you haven’t.’
The agreement Fred III had entered into with Alexander was not quite a standard mortgage. It stipulated that in the event of Alexander defaulting on the payments, the house became the property of the bank. ‘In other words, Chuck Drew was justified in making his threat. Making up the arrears would not be sufficient. But you do have twenty-eight days,’ said Charles. ‘That’s how long it would take them to get a possession order. All is not completely lost.’
‘Grandfather is an old bastard,’ said Charlotte. ‘I can’t believe he would have done this.’
She was very upset.
They sent Fred a fax on the liner currently off the coast of Fiji – at least he was unlikely to have seen the English papers there, thought Charlotte – asking him to call them on the subject of the mortgage on Hartest. After twenty-four hours, when there was no reply, Charlotte sent a second one, marked urgent.
An hour later, Betsey called. The line was surprisingly good.
‘Grandma, how lovely to hear from you. Are you having a good time?’
‘Wonderful, darling. I feel seventeen again.’
‘Oh, that’s great. And Grandpa?’
‘Grandpa is having the time of his life. He’s organized a poker school, and he’s also absolutely determined to win the quoits championship.’
‘Well that’s great too. Er – Grandma, is it possible to speak to Grandpa?’
‘No, dear, I’m sorry.’ Betsey sounded embarrassed. ‘He was – a little annoyed at your letter. He had left the strictest instructions that he was only to be contacted in a real emergency. He’s spent hours, you know, talking to them all about the crash, and he says enough is enough, and he wants to be allowed to have the rest of his holiday in peace.’
‘But Grandma, this is a real emergency. We could lose Hartest.’
‘Oh darling, surely not.’
‘Grandma, we could. Please please tell him. It’s very involved, and I’ll explain if you like, but we could.’
‘Well – maybe you’d better talk to him. I’ll try and get him to call you.’
They waited for a call from Fred; none came.
&
nbsp; After another twenty-four hours, Charlotte looked at Max. ‘What do we do? We can’t force him to talk to us.’
‘Send another fax?’
‘We could try. Spell it out.’
Charlotte and Max spent hours on the letter (to be signed by Charlotte), struggling to sound urgent without being peremptory, concerned but not hysterical, reproachful (towards Freddy and Chuck) but not recriminatory. They finished by saying they knew Fred would not want his grandchildren to lose Hartest through what was clearly an administrative hiccup.
‘I hope that’ll be all right,’ Charlotte said nervously to Max as they sent the fax.
‘Of course it will be,’ he said.
It wasn’t all right. Fred sent her a furious fax back accusing Charlotte of paranoia, Alexander of gross inefficiency – ‘I told him to get the thing sorted when he came over’ – and the lot of them of whining hypocrisy. ‘If you’re so concerned about saving your house, I suggest you do what should have been done years ago and make it pay its way. Turn it over to the public. I’ve told Chris Hill and the board to deal with it in my absence. I’m sure they won’t see you on the streets. Please allow me to finish my holiday in peace.’
‘Oh God,’ said Charlotte.
‘Shit,’ said Max.
Georgina burst into tears.
‘What I can’t understand,’ said Charlotte, ‘is why Grandpa is being so Machiavellian. What’s it to him, for God’s sake? Why does he want to see Hartest go down the pan?’
‘I think,’ said Angie slowly, ‘that he just doesn’t like Alexander. I think he suspects Virginia wasn’t happy with him, and I also think the whole thing about Hartest, you know, Alexander refusing to turn it over to the public when he can’t actually afford to run it, and insisting it stays a family house, just enrages him. Baby told me he was furious with Alexander when he asked him for the money for the roof and the rebuilding. He told him he ought to give it up then. Alexander refused, point blank, and there was a big scene. Why Grandpa gave in in the end was something of a mystery.’
‘I wish I’d known,’ said Max, punching the air furiously with his fist. ‘I wish I’d known the bloody place was mortgaged. I never dreamt, never for a moment.’
Wicked Pleasures Page 92
