Suddenly she smiled. ‘That’s better!’
‘Better?’
‘I was feeling bad about wasting your time. Leaning on you when after all, why should you be involved? But if thee’s something in it all for you then that helps.’
He frowned. ‘I didn’t think you were an ungenerous person, Laura. It was one of the most warming things about you, I thought. Generosity. Was I wrong?
She reddened. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Yes you do. To suggest it’s only all right for me to be interested in helping you if – what was the phrase? There was something in it for me.’ He made a little face. ‘I don’t like that.’
She looked at him for a long moment and then reddened even more. ‘Yes. You’re right. It did sound ungracious. I didn’t mean to be. I just didn’t want to feel – oh, I suppose this’ll sound wrong too. Too grateful.’
‘Oh, heavens no,’ he said vigorously. ‘I don’t want you to be grateful. Appreciative, by all means. Grateful never.’
‘I’m not sure I know the difference.’
‘One is generous. The other’s just hire and salary. I don’t want us to be in that sort of relationship to each other.’
‘I –’ She stopped and then shook her head. ‘We’re talking about the wrong things.’
‘Yes we are.’ Now it was his turn to look embarrassed. ‘Let’s talk about the letter instead. You were going to ask my advice. So here it is. Go and see the solicitor. Keep an open mind, but see what he has to say. Then you can decide.’
She nodded and looked down at the letter again. ‘Yes – I think perhaps –’ She lifted her head and looked at him very directly. ‘Now, be generous to me. Come with me as my advisor.’
‘What?’ He looked startled.
‘He says in the letter he’s got Mucky’s permission to talk to me and/or my advisors on the matter. So, come with me. Be my advisor.’
‘I rather think he was thinking of one of his own kidney. A legal eagle.’
‘I don’t care what he had in mind. It’s my decision,’ Laura said with spirit. ‘I seek and take my advice where I choose. So, I ask you.’ She grinned then. ‘Will you be generous enough to accept?’
‘Touché,’ he said and laughed. ‘All right. When will you see him?’
‘Now,’ she said promptly. ‘Let me phone. See if he’s there. Wait for me.’ And she ran into the restaurant and he heard her calling for Maxie as soon as she was inside the door.
She came out ten minutes later, wearing a yellow duster coat over her dress and with her face newly made-up, and she smiled at him, that triangular smile that was so characteristic of her, and he swallowed with disappointment. He hadn’t been thinking about how she looked that day when he had stood here in Little Vinegar Yard and seen her smile at Philip Cord, until she had smiled at him, but now, remembering the glory of that look and comparing it with what he saw before him – it hurt and he had to steel his face so that she didn’t see it. Her smile was warm and friendly and open and delightful, but it wasn’t the way she had looked at that other man.
‘He was waiting for me to phone,’ she said. ‘Sounds a reasonable sort of person, actually. He’s over at Argyle Street. A taxi?’
‘A taxi,’ he agreed and stood back to let her precede him through the archway into Frith Street. As long as I control myself, he thought as they came out into the sunshine again and looked for a cab with its light on, as long as I keep my head, she need never know what a fool I am about her. As soon as I can I’ll go back to Toronto and forget all about her. Because it’s obvious I’m wasting my time. And he tried not to pay any attention to the sense of desolation that filled him at the thought.
The solicitor was, as Laura had said, a very reasonable sort of man, tall and surprisingly young. He sat in his office in his shirtsleeves and welcomed them with a broad smile, assurances of being perfectly happy to include Joel in their meeting, and the offer of afternoon tea.
‘I am a tea snob,’ he said. ‘You can have Lapsang or Darjeeling or Earl Grey or Orange Pekoe. I recommend the Orange Pekoe.’
‘That’ll be lovely,’ Laura said and sat on the edge of her chair, eagerly, as he shouted the order for tea through to his outer office.
‘Well?’ he said. ‘What did you think of my letter?’
‘It amazed me,’ she said at once. ‘Look, Mr. Rose, I’m so confused I just don’t know whether I’m on this earth or Fuller’s –’
‘Oh, lovely!’ the solicitor said. ‘I haven’t heard that phrase since my grandmother died. She said it all the time –’
‘And your grandmother lived and worked here in Soho too,’ Joel said, with a note of resignation in his voice, and the man looked at him and said, ‘Well, yes, actually. She had a shop in Foubert’s Place. Corsetière, would you believe.’
‘It’s beginning to be too much for me,’ Joel said and shook his head in disbelief. ‘I get an idea for a film, and everywhere I turn the basic premise keeps jumping up and shouting at me. It’s really incredible.’
‘A film?’ The man sounded interested. ‘What film?’
Joel shook his head firmly. ‘Not now. Later, I promise. I’ll talk to you for ever about it when we’ve got this matter sorted out. But not now. Laura?’
‘Yes,’ Laura said. ‘Look, Mr. Rose, what I need to know is – why? I can’t let him do this if I don’t know why.’
‘I agree with you.’ The tea arrived and there was a small flurry as he poured it out and distributed cups. ‘I asked him the same thing. He was fairly mysterious about it, but quite clear and very definite about what he wanted to do.’
‘Is he –’ She paused, not wanting to be unkind and then said with a little rush. ‘I mean he’s getting on a bit, and though I never saw any signs that he was not quite –’
‘Is he sane, do you mean?’ Mr. Rose laughed. ‘Oh, he’s perfectly sane! Knows exactly what he’s doing and why, even if he chooses not to let me have all the details. And when I realised what his nephew had been up to over in the shop in his absence –’ He looked angry suddenly. ‘I was away too. Only got back yesterday, so my partner was dealing with it. I might have been able to stop it, because I know so much more about the old man and his lease than anyone else does. He was my father’s client before me – anyway, that’s all water under the bridge now. The fact is, the nephew did a bit of wheeling and dealing in the old man’s absence, started taking pornographic magazines into the shop, risked a prosecution and the freehold changed hands in the middle of a great deal of flurry and fuss over which I had no way of exerting any control. Nor did my partner, to be fair to him. So I can’t undo the loss of the shop, but I have to say it’s not so terrible. He’s got a lot of money for it.’ He looked at them bright eyed and cheerful over the rim of his cup. ‘He’s got a lot of money altogether, the old man. And he’s determined, bound and determined that the unpleasant Simmy gets not a penny and you get the lot.’
‘The lot?’ Laura said. ‘But you said in your letter –’
‘Yes. Twenty thousand pounds. That’s a gift to ease the death duties situation. At first the old chap wanted just to leave you everything in his will. I explained the death duties problem and he at once decided the answer was to give you as much as he could in advance. Hence this first twenty thousand.’
‘Do you mean she stands to get a great deal more eventually?’ Joel asked.
‘A great deal more,’ Rose said and set down his cup. ‘You have as they say, Miss Horvath, considerable expectations. All rather Dickensian.’
‘But why? I just don’t understand why!’
‘He says –’ Rose coughed. ‘He says it is because his family and yours are linked in a manner that makes this right and necessary. That it should have been done long ago. That he is paying the debt his father owed your family. And that’s all he will say. So, there it is. If you accept this, then I can put the matter in hand.’
‘Where is he?’ Laura said. ‘I must talk to him.’
&nbs
p; The solicitor shook is head. ‘No, he doesn’t want that. I told him he should see you and tell you himself. It would be a nice thing to do, and so forth, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He’s going back to his shop to pack a bag, I gather, and then he’s going to Monaco. I have to apply for permits and so forth, for him.’ He sighed. ‘He’s quite a demanding client, all of a sudden. For years he’s just quietly run that shop and not needed a thing and now suddenly it’s all bustle and push. Well it won’t do him any harm, I dare say. I’d leave him alone, Miss Horvath. He’s made a decision and there it is. Don’t try to see him. Write letters, by all means, but at present he wants to be left alone. I think he’s entitled to that.’
There was a long silence and then Laura said in a rather small voice, ‘Then I should take it, Joel?’
He looked at her and nodded. ‘I rather think you should,’ he said. ‘Mr. Rose thinks so –’
‘Oh, absolutely.’
‘Then there’s no reason why you shouldn’t.’
She closed her eyes. ‘It’s wonderful.’ She said it almost in a whisper. ‘I thought I was going to lose the restaurant.’
‘What?’ Mr. Rose looked at her sharply. ‘Why?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘Of course, if you prefer not to discuss it –’
‘Not at all,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m glad to explain. It’s just that – well, I ran out of money. And the –’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’d better start at the beginning.’
And she did, telling the whole tale of Cord and his deviousness succinctly and without self-pity, and as he listened, some of the desolation began to lift from Joel. He’d been unreasonable to feel as he had back there in Little Vinegar Yard. To think she would get over the way she had been ill used so swiftly, could respond to his own feeling for her as he wanted her to so soon after having been so hurt, had been ridiculous. She needed far more time than that and he let his tense shoulders relax against his chair back and went on listening to her even tones as she told the story.
‘And now,’ Mr. Rose said when she had finished. ‘You have the money for the work in the kitchen and also, you think you could borrow successfully against your expectations in this will.’
‘Well yes,’ she said. ‘It does seem as though I’m out of the wood, doesn’t it?’
‘It depends on how much money the man Cord has,’ Rose said. ‘These sites are changing hands at incredible prices, you know. He only has to buy your share, doesn’t he? As I understand it, he has control of one quarter through his wife, has bought another quarter from your cousin Paul Balog at a very low price –’
‘Wickedly low,’ Joel said savagely.
‘Still, he has got it. And has just to get the rest from you and from your aunts.’
‘Yes,’ Laura said. ‘That’s it.’
‘You on the other hand would have to buy three quarters and he is hardly likely to let you have cheaply the half he already controls, is he? Mr. Bosquet has money to leave you, Miss Horvath, but not enough for that. You can look forward to another hundred thousand or so, maybe less. It depends on how much he gets through while he’s living his life out there in Monaco. And you know, he’s a very lively old man. Seventy-six, but he could live another ten years, maybe more. People do, you know.’
She reddened. ‘I want him to!’
‘I’m sure you do. But the thing is, borrowing against the will.’ He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t count on it.’
There was a little silence and then she nodded heavily. ‘I was silly. Got excited, I suppose. It’s so important to me, you see. I – well, anyway, I can do the kitchen, can’t I? That’ll be something.’
‘Indeed it will.’ Mr. Rose got to his feet. ‘I’ll be in touch with all the documents involved. Meanwhile, I’m glad you feel able to accept Mr. Bosquet’s gift. It matters a lot to him that you should have it. But I wish I knew why.’ He grinned then and looked very young indeed. ‘I’m as curious as the next man. One wonders what sort of villainy his father got up to, that he feels as he did! Ah well, I suppose we’ll never know.’
‘We could know,’ Joel said suddenly. ‘We could find out, I think. Without asking Mr. Bosquet. No need to look so anxious, Mr. Rose! There’s someone else who’ll know, I’m sure.’
‘Who’s that?’ Laura stared at him, her forehead creased.
‘Your aunt, Laura. Anya Zsuzske. She’s a good deal older than Mucky, isn’t she? It’s my guess she’ll remember a lot. If she’s asked.’
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‘No,’ Paul said, and sat up even more straight in his chair, as though to give added authority to his words. ‘Absolutely no, Coplin. She’s an old lady. She can’t be bothered over such things.’
‘She may be old, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t interested in talking,’ Joel said mildly. ‘I’ve known old people in my time. A lot of them.’ He smiled reminiscently. ‘I had a great uncle who reached a hundred – and wanted to take out a ten year annuity on his birthday. He liked nothing better than to talk about the past.’
‘Anya is different,’ Paul said stubbornly. ‘She doesn’t.’
‘Of course, I can’t force you to let me talk to her,’ Joel said. ‘And I wouldn’t even try to. But it does seem to me that you’re being unfair to her. Never mind me, and through me, Laura – to her. She can’t have much fun in life.’
Paul bristled. ‘Are you implying I don’t look after her properly?’ He looked angry and frightened at the same time and Joel sighed.
‘Stop being so defensive, man! Of course not! I’m only making the point that being old can’t be much fun at the best of times. Things you can’t do, things people won’t let you do – all you’ve got left is what you remember. It’s all there is of your life, isn’t it, what you have inside your head? And if no one ever talks to you about it, then you might as well not have lived it –’
Paul stared at him, his lower lip stuck forward in a childishly mulish expression and Joel felt again the deep pity for him that had filled him when they had worked together on the Thrust commercial. He looked so very much a man, so tall, so elegant, so adult, with his silver head and craggy face and well muscled body, but it was all the thinnest of veneers. Beneath it lay a stubborn, vain and very frightened child and he wanted to reach out and touch him, and tell him it was all right, he was safe, and had no need to be so suspicious. But he stayed still, relaxing in the big old armchair and just watching him.
There was a faint tinkling sound and Paul lifted his head and listened. It came again and he said pettishly, ‘There, you’ve woken her! I told you it wouldn’t be right –’ And he got to his feet and hurried across the big shabby living room and went out and after a moment Joel got to his feet and followed him.
Laura had made the arrangement for him to come here this afternoon; he had tried to call Balog himself but been thoroughly snubbed, and Laura had said she’d ask him and arrange it.
‘He’s probably feeling awful about me, that’s the thing,’ she had said. ‘Selling his share to Cord as he has – but I can’t let him go on being so miserable about it. He couldn’t help it, obviously. I want him to know that I realise that, but I’ve been putting off calling him. I’ll have to do it some time. Better now than not –’ And she had called him.
What they had said to each other she didn’t tell Joel, and he hadn’t asked, but she looked a little less tense after the call than she had before, and told him that Paul had agreed to see him if he came round the next afternoon, so clearly it had been a reasonably satisfactory conversation. So he’d hoped he would have no difficulty with Balog; but the man had been guarded and hostile from the start. Polite but clearly unhappy about talking to him. And even unhappier about allowing him access to his mother.
But Joel wasn’t going to give up that easily. The more he thought about it, the more obvious it became to him that Anya Zsuzske held in her gnarled old hands the lines that burrowed deeply into the problems of Little Vinegar Yard, and also, to his film. His commitment t
o Laura was undoubted; he wanted more than he could have imagined ever wanting anything to see her happy and content, her restaurant safely in her ownership and all her debts paid and all her fears removed from her. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t at the same time a commitment to himself and his own work, and the idea of his film about Soho was growing and shaping in his mind like a living thing.
He could see the patterns of it, misty but unquestionably there. He would link the past and present in a series of loops that took in three or maybe four specific Soho occupations, and the families who had followed them and still followed them. The Bosquets and their tobacconist’s shop; the Halasczs and the Horvaths and their restaurant – and it was Anya Zsuzske with her ninety years of memories to draw on who was going to be the most important source of information for him. After he had talked to her, after he had sorted out these two interlocking stories, then he could go and find two more. In the market perhaps? The Price family of apple sellers? Mr. Rose’s grandmother, the corsetière of Argyle Street? Possibly even his own family, the Coplins? But first, Anya Zsuzske and the story of Little Vinegar Yard.
His feet were silent on the old carpets as he followed the sound of Paul’s voice out of the room, down the long corridor, with its red runner of turkey carpet and the trim little mats at the doorways, to the last door, which stood ajar.
He stopped outside and disliking himself intensely for being so devious, listened. There was a clink of china and then the old woman’s voice said, ‘Ah! Thank you Poly – sàjhalom – bocsanàt – I wish you didn’t have to do such things –’
‘It’s all right, Anya!’ Paul’s voice came surprisingly loud and Joel stepped back, suddenly fearful he was about to come out and would find him there, listening at the door, like some horrible old landlady in a cheap lodging house. ‘You don’t have to apologise. We’re all made the same – here’s your tissues. You can manage?’
The old lady grunted and Joel heard a door open and the flush of a lavatory and the splash of water taps running into a basin and understood, and closed his eyes as another wave of pity washed over him, this time for both of the people on the other side of the door; for the old lady to have to rely on her son for all her most basic bodily needs, and for him to have to look after her in such a way. It had to be misery for both of them, and he wanted to turn and run out of their flat and leave them in peace. It was an appalling intrusion to be here at all, even to want to talk to this old woman against her son’s will, and he actually turned to go, when the waft of eau de cologne hit his nose and he stopped. His mother had used just that sort of scent and it was though she were standing here beside him, the physical effect of the smell was so powerful.
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