‘You were bad? How?’
‘I let her make me do what she wanted, or at least, I almost did. She wanted it all to come to just the three of us, you see. Kati and Magda and me. We were the only ones entitled, she said. We were his three children, no one else. But Poppa said no, it must be the four of us. All the neighbours, all the friends, they knew there were four children in the Halascz family. It had to be left to us all because of scandal –’ She stopped then and laughed, a sharp little sound that was full of contempt. ‘Scandal! As though anyone in Soho cared tuppence. As though any of them would have even noticed! But Poppa was determined and Anya was too – and Poppa won really.’
‘How?’
‘She threatened to have him sent to a madhouse, you know that? No? Well, she did. He drank too much, he lost his temper too much, shouted and threw things too much. He had ideas of going to Hungary to be a gentleman – she could have made the doctors say he was mad on such things. And she told us we must say the same. And the others, they said they would. Magda, because she wanted the restaurant for her Zolly – and they did all the work there, after all. It was natural enough. And Kati – Kati because she was Kati. So greedy, always. So wicked and so greedy.’
‘You didn’t like Kati?’ he asked carefully.
‘Like her? I loved her! She was my sister, I loved her. But she was greedy and selfish and so – she was a bad person. But I loved her. Of course I did. How else could it be?’ She looked at him as though he were the one who was mad, who needed to be sent to a madhouse, and he smiled at her, eager to be placatory.
‘Of course! I’m sorry. I meant no – I didn’t mean to offend you. And then what happened?’
‘He said he would sign the Trust, said he would leave the money the way she wanted it as long as she stopped all this nonsense about madhouses. So she agreed, and he went to the lawyer –’ A smile moved across her old face the way sunshine moves across a field on a blustery cloud-riven day. ‘And they were his drinking friends, too. Who was there in Soho who wasn’t my Poppa’s drinking friend? Even poor old Jean, whose son he’d taken from him, even he drank with my father. And the lawyers fixed it. I don’t know how they fixed it so the money was left to us all, Istvan as well. Anya was so angry –’ She sighed as she watched her Anya being angry in her memory. ‘But she got over it. At least he hadn’t left it all to Istvan which was what he wanted, Poppa. She hadn’t got her own way entirely, but then neither had Poppa. So that made it not so bad for her. Poor Anya! She died as angry as she’d lived. Always furious, that was my Anya. Me, I’d do anything for peace and quiet and no arguments. So I never told anyone about it all. All that I knew I never told Magda. I felt a bit bad about that. Poor Magda, working so hard and getting so little, really. But she was happy and she had a good husband who loved her and was good to her children, which was more than you could say about Laszlo Balog.’
Her voice went hard and loud suddenly and Joel blinked at the malice in it. ‘He was wicked to my Poly, so wicked! I hated him. I really hated him, do you know that? But I won. My Poly and I, we’re still here, and where’s Laszlo Balog? In hell, where he belongs –’
Joel coughed, as embarrassed as if she’d suddenly stripped off all her clothes. ‘So, the Trust was made for the four of you, in your own names –’
She laughed then, the flash of malice vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared. ‘Oh, no, Poppa and those lawyers – too clever for that. In case Anya discovered what he had done, you see, he made them say in the documents that the property was left to the ‘children of the Family’. Anya didn’t discover till after she had signed, and it was too late, what it meant. It was the way it was written, you see. If it had been names it would have been different. But “children of the Family” – that made it that Istvan was treated the same as the rest of us, Poppa said. He should have got his share from Kati, shouldn’t he? He was her son, not Anya’s and Poppa’s. But there it was. Poppa won in the end. Poppa always did, really – even when he was dead. Anya died first so she was happy enough. But Poppa – he got Istvan what he wanted for him. Not all that he wanted. But more than he had a right to.’
She sighed deeply then and smiled at Joel. ‘Enough. I’ve talked enough. It’s good to talk, but it’s enough.’
He stood up at once. ‘Of course, Mrs. Balog. You’ve been very good to me, I do appreciate it. To talk to me for so long – it was good of you.’
‘So long ago,’ she said sleepily. ‘So many people, so many angry people –’ And she closed her eyes and he stood there and watched her as she fell asleep with the sudden abandon that only the very old and the very young can show.
‘I’m not sure,’ Laura said carefully, ‘what all this means.’
‘Nor am I just yet,’ Joel said. ‘But I reckon we can work it out. Your Uncle Istvan wasn’t your uncle. He was your cousin. He had no right to inherit a quarter of this place.’ He lifted his head and looked round. It was late in the afternoon and the tables were set and ready for the evening’s influx and there was a rich smell of lecso and roasting goose in the air. Angie in a spirit of fury at the way his kitchen was about to be pulled about his ears was producing all the most exotic and difficult dishes he could think of while he had the choice. ‘The only people who really had a right, as I understand it, were the three sisters.’
‘But Uncle Istvan –’ She blinked. ‘I have to call him that. He was always called that.’
‘It’s not important what you call him. What matters is what he is. Which is a grandson of the old pair and therefore not a direct inheritor.’
A slow smile appeared on Laura’s face and began to spread until she was beaming. ‘Oh, Joel,’ she breathed and then began to laugh. ‘Oh, Joel, Aunt Dolly and Aunt Evelyn!’
He looked at her and then he too began to grin. ‘Oh, dear me, yes. Dolly and Evelyn. They are going to be put out, aren’t they?’
‘More than a little – look.’ She ran to her desk and grabbed a piece of paper. ‘Here’s how it is, as I see it.’ She began to scribble. ‘Here are the family, all right? Kati and her children – only this time, put Istvan as her son. Right. His descend ants and Ilona’s, they should share a third. And Zsuzske’s sons, they should share another third – and then my grand mother Magda’s descendants, which is really just me, because Alex and Timothy – I have their shares. You know about that – so –’ She shook her head. ‘It’s all so muddled! How do we sort out who legally owns what –’
‘And how much Dolly and Evelyn owe the rest of you,’ Joel said.
‘They owe me? How can they – oh! I see,’ Laura said and stared blankly. ‘You mean all the money they’ve had for their share –’
‘They’ve been getting a quarter, right?’
‘Yes. It’s a lot of money.’
‘But they shouldn’t have had that. They should have had – Let’s see, half the share that came down through Kati. A sixth for Ilona and a sixth for Istvan. Because they inherited through him. Half of a third is one sixth. And half of a sixth is a twelfth. Much smaller amounts, aren’t they? I can’t work out right now just how much money they’ve had that they shouldn’t because it really belonged to you and to Paul Balog, but I’m sure the lawyers can work it out.’
‘Have I the right to ask them?’
‘With Paul to back you, yes –’
‘But Paul has sold his share to Philip Cord and –’
Joel frowned. ‘I have to be honest, Laura. I can’t help you. I’m no great shakes when it comes to the law. I wasn’t at home in Canada, and this is British law. It’s probably different. I think you ought to see your own solicitor as soon as possible. Get him to look into this. It could be that Paul sold without enough information and that being so, the sale isn’t legal. I just don’t know. But someone will. So you’ll have to find out and act accordingly.’
She was silent for a moment. ‘Will I have to sue my own family?’ She frowned. ‘I’d hate to have to take all this to court.’
‘You may
have to, to keep your hands on your own restaurant. Because he’s using the terms of the Trust to get you out, isn’t he? Cord? But if those terms have been breached because of a – what’s the expression? Miscarriage of justice – after your great whatever it was grandfather died – old Viktor – well, then, it’s back to square one. Cord loses his power to destroy you. If you have to go to court to make that possible, then isn’t it worth it?’
She seemed to have shrunk a little as she stood there and stared at him, her face creased with anxiety. ‘But Joel, imagine having it all talked about. Poor old Aunt Kati and her behaviour – she was only fifteen when Istvan was born, wasn’t she? I’ve worked it out – I know how old Uncle Istvan was when he died seven years ago, and how old she was, so – it would be awful to have people talking about it all and sniggering over them. And old Maritza and Viktor – they’re dead. They ought to be left in peace. Not talked about by lawyers in public courts.’
‘Yes, Laura, they’re dead,’ Joel said gently and moved closer and set his hands on her arms. ‘And nothing anyone says can possibly hurt them. But if none of this is said anywhere then you’ll be hurt. And so will Paul and so will Ilona, won’t she? She may be married to Cord and we may both hate him but she’s entitled to her just rights. And she hasn’t been getting them. Don’t be mealy mouthed about this, Laura. Go to court if you must. Isn’t it worth it to keep this place going?’
She looked round at her red tiled floor and her creeper clad window and the pretty tables and took a long breath. ‘I suppose so. If it will save it – but it isn’t just Philip, is it? It’s the developers who are the real worry. And they aren’t going to be stopped just because we go to court over an ancient family scandal. They’ve already got hold of Mucky’s place, haven’t they? They won’t stop trying to get mine –’
She stopped sharply then and said blankly, ‘Oh!’
‘What is it?’
‘Mucky, he – oh, this is really so confusing. He’s a sort of relation of mine, then, isn’t he? He’s Yves. The second son of Jean Bosquet. The first was my Uncle – Cousin Istvan. It sort of makes Mucky into a relation. And he’s left me all his money –’
‘Do you feel better about that, then? Obviously he knew the truth about Istvan. That must have been what he meant when he kept telling you it was the right thing to do.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He must have known, and always felt wrong about it – do you suppose he felt we were entitled to a share of his shop? Or that he was entitled to a share of our restaurant?’
Joel laughed and shook his head. ‘I don’t know, Laura. I really wouldn’t even like to begin guessing. All I know is he feels he’s done the right thing now. And that means your kitchen can be done up to please the damned Environment Officer or whoever the bloody man is, and you can pay off some of your debts. And if you’re willing to go to court and claim back the share of your inheritance that is due to you from Dolly and Evelyn then maybe you’ll be able to fight off the developers as well. There has to be a way –’
She seemed to be aware suddenly of the fact that he was still standing with his hands on her shoulders and pulled away from him, a little flustered, and went to perch on her tall stool behind her small desk. She was using it as protection, a sort of bulwark against him and he could feel that, and the hurt bit into him. But then he remembered and pushed the pain away. Don’t rush her, he told himself furiously. Don’t rush her, you damned fool.
There was a little silence as she sat with her forehead creased, thinking, and suddenly she said. ‘I wonder if I’d. make much of a job of being a liar? A thorough going out and out liar.’
‘What?’ He was startled.
‘Well, maybe I wouldn’t have to go to court – if I told Dolly and Evelyn I was going to and would expose the whole family, and the only way to stop me was to sell me their share of the restaurant, without specifying just what size share it was, if you see what I mean, at a price we both agreed on –’
He grinned. ‘You can be quite devious, can’t you?’
‘Well, why not? Haven’t other people been devious with me?’
‘Counting up how many wrongs to a right?’
‘No, of course not. Well, yes. Maybe. A bit. Oh, I don’t know. I just don’t want anything to happen to this place. Whatever Maritza and Viktor did, whatever happened all those years ago, what we’ve got now is this. It goes all the way back to them, and it’s a good and beautiful thing. To let it die now just because a man like Philip Cord wants to make money out of it and because some anonymous developer wants to do something different here – it’s just not on, and I won’t have it. I’ll fight for this place and use any method I have to do it, even if it means being as bent as one of Maxie’s corkscrews. So there!’
‘Attagirl,’ he said softly. ‘Go to it, Laura. Right on, Laura!’ And she grinned, embarrassed.
‘Well, that’s how I feel and that’s an end to it. I’ll go and see Dolly. And it’ll be different this time, you see if it isn’t. The things I’ll say to her – oh, it’ll be different all right. First thing tomorrow, I’ll go to see her. And then Evelyn – oh, just you watch me, Joel Coplin. No one’s going to take my place away from me. Not now. Not ever!’
36
‘Oh!’ Joe Davriosh said and stopped short. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘The same as you, I imagine,’ Cord said, and reached in his pocket for a cigarette. ‘Waiting to see Reggie Statler.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I want to see him,’ Cord said, with insultingly careful enunciation.
‘Hmm. More like because he sent for you,’ Davriosh said and slumped down in the leather seat beside him; at once Cord moved away fastidiously. ‘He sent for me, so he’s sent for you. Though why – tell me why.’
Cord said nothing, just looking at him with his brows raised. ‘God damn you, Cord,’ Davriosh exploded. ‘I’m not so green as I’m cabbage-looking, as my old granny used to say. And I want to know what the hell’s been going on that he’s sent for you. It’s me what’s been paying you, remember.’
‘With his money, I rather think,’ Cord said, and leaned forwards and picked up a newspaper. He opened it with a flourish and disappeared behind it and Davriosh leaned forwards and grabbed it and pulled it down with such violence that it tore and the girl sitting at the reception desk lost her look of boredom for the first time and actually looked across the great expanse of terrazzo floor and potted palms to stare at them.
‘I’ll have none of your shit, Cord,’ Davriosh said loudly. ‘If you’ve been playing silly buggers with me and trying to run with him as well as me, then you are going to find yourself in it right up to your ugly great neck. Do you understand me? I made a deal with this man, and you made a deal with me, and that’s the way it has to be. I’ll have none of this climbing over my shoulders to get to the big ones –’
‘Shut up, Davriosh,’ Cord said softly. ‘Or you’ll find your friend Statler will get to know a great deal more about you than you’d like. Such as what happened over the sale of the freehold of Bosquet’s shop and how much that cost him compared with what L and CD got for it. Like the way you got money out for Preston too, and loaded his pay sheets. So shut up. Just shut very up. Understood?’
Davriosh stared at him and his eyes were wet with anger and frustration; his face had reddened, and he had started to sweat, and the receptionist looked at him with distaste as she said loudly, ‘Mr. Statler will see you now, Mr. Davriosh, Mr. Cord,’ and set down the phone.
‘I’ve not finished with you,’ he muttered at Cord as they both got to their feet. ‘Not by half a bloody inch. I ain’t finished with you. If you say a word in there out of place, then I’m warning you –’
‘Piss off,’ Cord said and turned and walked ahead of him to the door the receptionist was now holding open.
‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ Statler said, without looking up from the papers he had spread on the big glass topped desk behind which he looked a r
ather insignificant figure. ‘I won’t keep you too long –’
Davriosh stopped short as a secretary held chairs out for him and for Cord, staring at the man who stood behind Statler, looking over his shoulder. He was wearing a very obviously new suit and the most glittering of white collared blue striped shirts. He was sleek and benign and he smiled back at the stare and said easily, ‘Good morning, Joe.’
‘Malplackett?’ Davriosh said and sat down hard. ‘Christ! Where’s the rest of the bloody army? I thought this was to be a private meeting.’
‘I haven’t time to waste talking to people one at a time, Davriosh,’ Statler said and now he did look up and stared very directly at Davriosh. Suddenly he didn’t look insignificant any more. ‘Even when what I have to say is short and to the point.’
‘Oh?’ Davriosh leaned back, remembering too late to look relaxed and comfortable and crossed his ankles and then uncrossed them and reached in his pocket for a cigarette.
‘Not in here, if you please, Davriosh. I can’t stand the smell of cheap cigarettes,’ Statler murmured and reached out his hand and at once Malplackett picked up a silver box on the desk and held it open for him. Deliberately Statler lit the slim cigar he took from it and then leaned back in his own chair and looked at the two men sitting in front of him. Joe Davriosh stared back, his brows lifted in what was meant to be a supercilious regard. It looked more like an attack of nausea. Cord said nothing, sitting impassive and as genuinely relaxed as Davriosh had tried hard to be.
‘Mr. Davriosh, how much of my money have you had for this little operation I asked you to carry out for me? Which you, as I recall, offered to carry out for me, assuring me that you had all the necessary expertise? How much?’
Lunching at Laura's Page 36
