By 7:00 am I'd taken Lady J her coffee and I'd got Ysabel up for breakfast.
At 8:00 am they were just leaving the house for the stables and school respectively, when I saw the Rolls Royce turn up. Out stepped Sir Bertie. With a gracious bow to the girls, he came inside.
“Morning, old man”, he said. “Lovely day. Ready to resume your service to Her Majesty, I hope?”
“As ever”, I responded. “What problem have you now?”
“David, a member of the Royal Household has been writing what appear to be indiscreet letters to a lady across the pond. She has threatened to publish the letters unless he comes up with a ridiculously large sum of money to get them back. This could become a huge embarrassment to the Royal Family. Already he has been sending money which was supposedly to help with medical expenses, bills and other assorted crises that should have warned him off. We need you to go over and negotiate a smaller sum if you can find her, retrieve the documents and destroy them. I'm afraid the Cousins aren't able to help much as the letters have been going to a Post Office Box and they haven't been able to find her. We know you have the patience for this”.
“Thanks for your faith”, I laughed.
“I have a file in the car for you to read, David. It's a bit sparse as we have no picture of this woman. We'd like you to fly out tomorrow if you could, time is of the essence”.
“That won't be a problem, Bertie, so I hope you have a ticket ready”.
Bertie left the room and brought back from the car a file, a small box, an envelope stuffed with cash, and an open plane ticket. He wished me good hunting and turned to leave at which point Lady J arrived home.
“Hello Bertie”, she said. “Where are you sending my husband to enjoy himself this time? I have to decide what's best for him to bring back to those of us left behind”.
“Oh, nowhere interesting, Julia”, he told her. “The natives all speak English in the United States”. With that he gave Julia a peck on the cheek and left.
Grizelda put her head round the door and asked if we'd like a coffee. She disappeared to the kitchen when we both answered, “Yes, please”.
“So David, where to and what's in the little box?”
“I don't know about the box, dear, but that can soon be rectified. As for where, until I glance at the file all I know is the same as you. It's America”.
“Thank you, Grizelda”, offered Julia as the coffee arrived. “We get rid of His Lordship again soon on one of his adventures. Maybe we can get up to some mischief of our own while he's away”.
This sounded ominous to me. I sat down with the file and the box that had puzzled us. But no longer, since inside the box, which was small and flat like a cigar box, were ten bearer bonds, each in the sum of ten thousand dollars.
Julia read the file over my shoulder once the shock of the money had worn off. My own cash envelope had about twenty thousand pounds in dollars in it, with a telephone number to ring for more if needed.
The file was thin and the information was sparse. It gave the woman's name as Gloria Peccadillo and the Post Office Box was an address on First Avenue, New York. There was nothing to be done but to fly there and see for myself if I could negotiate a smaller payment or avoid paying altogether.
The airline was kind enough to fit me in for the flight on the following day, so Julia packed me a bag. Her faith in my packing ability seems not to have increased.
We had a quiet lunch of sandwiches at home and then Julia ran me into town where I went to see Freda Newcombe at the library to enquire if she had any maps of New York. She found me a book that broke New York into bite size pieces and showed all the hotels. That done, Julia got into conversation with Freda, and left me to make a few notes from the book at one of the library reading tables. Now that I had some kind of idea of where I would be, I returned the book just in time to hear Julia say, “Wednesday evening then, Freda”.
As we left the library I asked what they had been talking about and she answered, “Oh, just a little gathering, David. We're going to sort out a fund raiser and indulge in a glass of wine… or two”. I'm never sure why the most seemingly innocent answer can send panic down my spine, but at least I couldn’t be volunteered into anything if I wasn’t here.
We decided to go to Cass E Dees for a coffee while in town, and were lucky to find a table near the back where we could be unobtrusive, and I could tell Lady J where I'd be staying and could pass on an emergency telephone number. Sherryl the waitress took our order and was soon back with two coffees and two slices of cake. Before I could protest that I hadn't ordered cake, she explained that Simone the owner had sent them, as she put it, free, gratis and for nothing. How very kind I thought.
I tried a bite of cake and could not quite put my finger on the flavour. I asked Lady J what she thought and, breaking off the smallest piece, she found that she could not identify it either. There seemed to be a steady flow of people going past the table to get to the toilets, and each one decided to stop and ask how His Lordship and Her Ladyship were. I was most gratified by this kindness, but Julia adopted her most suspicious face. My face on the other hand had started to feel uncomfortably warm and the skin seemed tight. Perhaps the heating was on. I took another mouthful of cake but still the flavour eluded me.
Lady J looked up from her plate which she then pushed to one side and asked, “Do you feel all right dear?”
“A little odd actually, my dear”, I tried to reply, but found it hard to move my lips. “Come with me”, she said, pulling my arm and marching me to the toilet, where, after checking that there were no occupants, she pulled me inside and faced me to the mirror where I saw a man with a red balloon on his shoulders hiding his head. It was a puffy, not very pretty balloon.
“Oh dear", I thought, “I've been poisoned”.
“Right”. said Lady J. “Doctor’s. Now!”
As we were leaving the café, Lady J stopped at the counter where Simone was arguing with another balloon head.
“It's just ground almonds”, she was saying.
“Mmph, Mmph”, was the response which when translated meant pull the other one it's got bells on.
“Let me look at the packet”, said Lady J in a voice to be obeyed. On production she said, “Oh Simone, this is a packet of wallpaper paste with an anti-fungicide. I do hope you're not decorating at home with ground almonds. Please dispose of the rest of the cake before you kill someone and then go and find your glasses”.
No one could have been more apologetic as we left the café hurriedly.
Julia bundled me into the car along with the other balloon head and ran us to the surgery. Once there the receptionist took one look at me and sent me along to Dr. Jekyll's room. He took one look and started writing me out a prescription for an antihistamine. I couldn't talk to say thank you but I did write down what had caused the allergic reaction.
“Magic”, he said, “you're the third one so far, so at least now I know what I'm dealing with. Go home, take the tablets and your face should be normal pretty quickly”.
I nodded my thanks and left.
Julia filled the prescription while I hid in the car like a monster. Then we went home where I took a tablet straight away and went to lie down. Sleep must have come because I woke with a start at about 5:00 pm when Ysabel knocked on my door and came to see if I was OK.
“Poor Daddy, in the wars again I see”, she said. “Fancy a nice cup of tea?” Checking that my mouth felt loose enough to drink it, I raised a thumb and nodded. In the lounge, Julia told me that Simone had sent a letter of apology and there was a large cake in the kitchen. She said she'd understand if I wanted to take action but that she hoped not to lose our custom.
Simone's cakes have a well deserved reputation for excellence and as this was a genuine accident I had no doubt that Lady J would have put Simone's mind at rest. I also had no doubt that the story of how my face looked would be stored, improved upon and saved for the future.
It was obvious that I wouldn'
t be the best company in the world that evening, so I decided to turn in early in preparation for the following day’s long haul flight.
Tuesday, October 5, 1993
The Subtle Taxi Driver
We had an early start for the airport in the morning. I had offered to go by taxi but Lady J wouldn't hear of it. By 5:00 am we were on our well-trodden route to the airport. By 6:30 am I was hugging her goodbye as my face was still a little swollen and a little tender, making a goodbye kiss difficult.
Check-in was fine, though I did draw some funny looks and one girl who spotted me pointed in my direction and burst into tears. She looked to be about twenty, so I hoped it was empathy and not fear that brought on the tears. Of course she might just have had a very bad engagement to a red lollipop.
I picked up some duty-free cigarettes in the shop and then went for a coffee so that I could take an antihistamine. When we boarded the plane, the flight was long and tedious, especially as Dr Jekyll had advised no alcohol while taking the tablets. I guessed I wouldn't get away with asking about the period in between the doses. Luckily the in-flight movie was so bad that I was able to sleep a bit.
My arrival at New York was on time but my departure from the airport was a little delayed while my passport picture and my face were compared, accompanied by a few sniggers. The passport control officer kept calling people over to make a point of showing my face to most of New York for their entertainment. My face must by then have been lollipop-coloured as well as lollipop-shaped. Eventually there was no one left to show it to and they let me through. I got a yellow cab and asked for the Crown Regent Hotel. The taxi driver kept looking in his rear view mirror at me but kindly said nothing. When we reached the hotel he took my bags to the door and said, “Strewth, pal, I'm sorry about your face. A bad fire was it?” I just grunted and passed over his fare with a good tip.
A concierge took my bags to reception and then to my room after I had booked in. I passed over a $10 bill and closed the door behind him before he could speak. It was 8:00 pm and I was not yet ready for sleep, my body clock having been thrown out by the flight. I went down to the restaurant and had dinner, choosing to sit in a dimly lit booth to avoid any comments. The meal was pleasant and I had a bottle of beer with it as I couldn't see what harm it could do. I signed the chit to charge it to my room and then headed up there in the hope of getting some sleep before the following day’s search for the blackmailer.
Wednesday, October 6, 1993
If I Told You I’d Have to Kill You
I did manage to get some sleep during the night but still felt a little fuzzy this morning when I woke at 6:00 am NY time. Not having any idea how long it would take me to find the Post Office Boxes and also a place from which to observe, I decided a good breakfast was in order.
The restaurant dining room was quite crowded but I saw a table with just one occupant. I walked over and asked the lady if I could join her. She indicated I could sit down which I did with a nod of thanks and picked up a menu. The full English breakfast looked good so I ordered that with some fruit juice and a pot of tea. When the juice arrived I took a tablet and put the box on the table.
“Jessie Trenton”, said my table mate, “it's nice not to have to eat alone”.
I wasn't sure about her definition of eat as all I could see in front of her was a bowl of sawdust.
“David”, I responded, offering my hand to shake. “I'm glad of the company”.
My breakfast came and I saw the definition of a 'full English breakfast' was a little overstated as my plate alone would have fed Nicaragua for a week.
Partway through the meal and the small talk that we indulged in, Jessie told me, “Well, I have to go now but it would be nice if we were able to eat together again if you're here for a few days”.
I responded that the idea sounded pleasant and she wished me goodbye for the present. As she left, I notice my tablets were missing from the table, and I called her back. “Jessie, I think you've picked up my tablets by mistake”.
“Oh, I'm so sorry”, she said, “I thought they were mine. Here they are”, she said pulling them from her handbag and putting them on the table. “Until later, then”, she said.
She had left the dining room before I noticed that they weren't my tablets she'd left me but her own. The box was similar so I could understand the mistake, but I was sure that New York did not hold such dangers for me that I'd be needing birth control pills any time soon.
After breakfast, I took a cab to the block where the Post Office Box was and looked around the area. There was a diner over the street but I didn't want to rouse any suspicions by sitting there for too long. I entered the building where the PO Box was and found it to be very open and no place from which to watch the box easily. There was a seedy-looking man at the counter and I took a chance on making a suggestion to him.
“Let me get this right, bub, you're willing to pay me $200 to let you work here cleaning the floor. No questions asked”.
“That's right”, I answered. “I need to check if my wife comes in to collect mail”, a lie of course but the best I could do at short notice.
“You're hired”, he answered.
I'd seen a store close by and so I went and bought some overalls, a bucket, mop and brush then returned to start my employment. I alternated between brushing and mopping the floors for four hours before someone came in. I was about to ignore the movement because it was a male, when I noticed he had opened a box near to the one I was observing, possibly even the very same one. When he'd gone, I went over to see if I could identify the box he’d opened as the one I had been watching, but I just couldn't be sure. I worked another couple of hours but no one else approached the boxes at all. It occurred to me that a man could easily open a box for someone else. I asked Seedy Man if it was a man or woman who usually collected from the box I was interested in. $200 loosened his scruples about privacy and he admitted it was the man who'd been in earlier. I thanked him and packed up for the day.
For the afternoon, I went on a guided tour of NY in different taxis. My favourite place was the Empire State Building where the wonderful art deco designs fascinated me. I returned to the hotel in time for dinner and was grateful to meet Jessie on her way to the dining room as well.
“I'm so sorry, Your Highness”, she said. “I gave the wrong tablets to you this morning”.
Laughing, I responded, “I'm not a Highness, Jessie. If you want to be formal I'm My Lord but I'd prefer it to be David. However, here are your tablets. My reputation is intact so I've not needed to take them. I hope you've not been forced to rely on my tablets?”
Jessie returned my antihistamine tablets with a laugh and said, “Since the pollen count is low, I've not been forced to use yours either”.
We went into dinner together, and after we'd ordered, Jessie told me she was an advertising executive here in NY, and was trying to convince a new client to sign up with her agency. He was a toy manufacturer and she had a couple of days to show him that it would be to his advantage to sign with her to advertise his new line of toy guns.
“Ha ha”, I laughed”. You should do an ad with a spy like James Bond pretending to break into a factory to steal the latest technology in guns because his own office won't buy him one. In the never ending fight for democracy, only the best is good enough”.
“That's genius”, she said, “just the kind of thing I want. What do you do, David?”
“Oh, if I told you that, Jessie, I'd have to kill you”. I answered laughing. “Really I just correct mistakes”.
We both enjoyed the meal and I found her company quite stimulating. Afterwards she asked if I'd like to go dancing, but I had to refuse. I'm not much of a dancer and I wanted to phone Lady J before it got too late.
Back in my room I made the call and checked that everyone at home was OK. I was hearing the news when there was a knock at the door. I told Julia I wouldn't be a moment and went to answer. Jessie stood there with a bottle. I indicated that she should s
it down as I was on the phone. I continued my conversation with Julia, and she asked me who'd been at the door. I told her it was a friend dropping in for a nightcap. “Male or female?” she asked.
I answered that it was a female. “Oh David, and you've let her in? You are so naïve sometimes, dear”. With that she put the phone down.
A little shocked, I turned and there was Jessie holding two glasses of wine. She was in a coat but it was open to reveal a shortie nightie underneath. I thought how pretty it was, and wondered if she'd changed because she was tired and ready for bed.
“I'm so sorry, Jessie”, I said,” I can't drink at the moment because of these tablets. Was there anything special you wanted?”
“No, I just thought two strangers in New York could give each other a bit of company”.
“How nice”, I said, “would you like to talk or shall I see if there's anything on TV?”
We did talk, and pulling up another chair, I heard all about her life in South Carolina as a child, marriage, divorce and then a new start on her own. I must have responded the right way because at about 2:30 she gave me a huge smile and said, “Well David, perhaps I should go back to my own room now. I'm tired, a little drunk and you've been a perfect gentleman”.
She left and I was able to get some sleep.
Thursday, October 7, 1993
The Heir Hunter
Jessie wasn't at breakfast in the morning but that was perhaps due to the wine the night before. I ate quickly, had a couple of cups of tea, and left to start work.
It was about 10.00 am when the man came in again to check the box. I was brushing the floor and it looked as though he hadn’t noticed me after his first glance. It's funny how some people in certain jobs are just taken for granted. As he started to leave, I dropped my overalls to the floor and put them and the brush behind the counter, then prepared to follow him.
The Queen's Envoy (The Barsetshire Diaries) Page 9
