by Fiona Neill
“How are we going to pay for anything?” she asked.
“We’ll be given three hundred fifty pounds a week living expenses until they decide whether to charge me. We’re going to appeal to try and persuade them to allow us access to more funds. If I can convince them I have enough assets to cover all the proceeds from the trades they’ve accused me of making, they might easily award us more.”
“How much are they accusing you of making?” asked Bryony.
“Not much,” said Nick. “Five million, tops.”
“That’s a fuck of a lot of money, and they’ll make you pay back more,” Bryony exploded, “and how can we live off three hundred fifty pounds a week? The mortgage on both houses is about ten thousand pounds a month. Maybe we should just sell Thornberry Manor?”
“You can’t sell anything if your assets are frozen,” Nick calmly explained. “The only way I can raise any money is perhaps by selling off a couple of paintings or some jewelry through a friendly antiques dealer who will pay us in cash. Totally verboten, but it might be worth doing that before they come and do the inventory of our belongings. Perhaps Ali could help you pick out a few things?”
“This is a nightmare,” said Bryony. Nick came over to her and put his arms around her. She remained seated, head bowed, arms folded in front of her. “Why is this happening to us?”
“Someone with a grudge, perhaps,” said Nick. “Someone who wants to create a hate figure to atone for the banking crisis?”
Surely the FSA and the police wouldn’t raid the house of a prominent City banker without good evidence to prove their allegations? Ali wanted to ask. But Bryony wasn’t looking for logic. She just wanted comfort. Ali got up from the table and went in search of an old class list. She found a number for Storm’s nanny, but when she managed to get through a couple of hours later the nanny apologetically explained that the girl’s mother had said that she couldn’t play with the twins.
“Why?” said Ali, furious on their behalf.
“In case there are any drugs in the house,” the nanny said.
“But Storm’s mum is completely addicted to sleeping pills,” said Ali, who had heard numerous stories from this nanny about the mother’s erratic behavior, including her seduction of a Polish plumber, her penchant for saying good night to her children on the intercom, and the fact she didn’t believe in de-nitting the children because it involved killing animals.
“I know,” she whispered. “Maybe we could meet in the park one day. Storm will really miss them. I don’t know what else to suggest. These people are all crazy. I’d leave if it wasn’t for the little girl.”
Ali put the phone down and it rang almost immediately. Perhaps the nanny had relented. But it was the internal phone.
“Ali, is that you?” Foy’s voice shouted. “Is anyone going to come and help me get out of bed? You know I can’t stand up on my own in the morning. Bloody legs! Where’s Malea? Where’s my breakfast? And where’s that bloody lawyer? If I’m paying for her, then at least I’m entitled to meet her.”
“I’ll come and help you,” Ali offered.
• • •
Jake arrived from Oxford a couple of days later, looking chastened. He had been fired from his job at the wine bar because the owner had seen his photograph in the newspaper. He went into the drawing room for what he described as a “ritual bollocking” and then went down to find Ali and the twins in the basement.
“What the fuck’s going on?” he asked as he slumped into a sofa. “Dad’s the one who’s been arrested and everyone’s behaving as though I’m the criminal.”
Ali gave a whispered chronology of events out of earshot of Hector and Alfie, who were building a Lego city on the playroom floor.
“Your dad seems fairly confident that he’ll be proven innocent,” said Ali.
“Mum’s a mess, though,” Jake said.
“Her house has been taken apart by detectives, her husband has been arrested, her housekeeper has left, she’s lost one of her biggest clients,” said Ali. “She’s got a lot to be stressed about. And she’s just discovered her son’s a drug addict.” The last she said in a teasing tone, hoping to illicit a smile.
“Did you know she called The Priory?” Jake gave a hollow laugh. “Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be to end up there and try to contribute to a group-therapy discussion on addiction when you’re a very casual dope smoker?”
“It would be surreal,” agreed Ali.
“Anyway, she can’t pay for me to go there, because all their bank accounts are frozen,” said Jake. “I think she’s using the drug thing as a diversion.”
He stood up and accidentally trod on an intersection. Hector yelled at him.
“You’ve killed a policeman.”
“Doing a raid,” added Alfie.
“Why don’t you send an ambulance?” suggested Jake.
“We can build a hospital,” said Alfie excitedly. To Ali’s relief, Hector acquiesced.
“Where’s Izzy?” Jake asked. “Mum and Dad didn’t seem to know.”
“She went to stay at a friend’s last night, and she hasn’t come home,” said Ali.
“Look, shall we take these guys to the park?” Jake suggested. I need to get out.”
“You’ve only just got here.”
“I can’t stand it here at the best of times, and this is the worst of times,” said Jake.
Ali called the Darkes, who agreed to help spirit them away from the house through their back garden and out the basement door, well away from the lenses of prying photographers. Having just seen The Great Escape again, Hector and Alfie embraced the subterfuge.
“Bad business, bad business,” Desmond Darke muttered after putting a ladder against his garden fence to help them over. It was obvious he was more concerned about the twins’ flattening his peonies than he was about their well-being. Ali noticed his wife staring down at them with disapproving pursed lips from their sitting room on the first floor. She was a tall, big-boned woman with large feet and hands. She was wearing a floral dress with a high collar and a bow tied around the waist that made her look like Grayson Perry.
“He’s let the side down,” Desmond told Ali, as he led them across the lawn, into the house, and up the stairs to the front door.
“What side?” Ali asked in confusion.
“We were more discreet with our money,” he said, touching his nose with his finger. “I blame Bryony. If she hadn’t worked, she might have stayed at home and looked after him more, so that he didn’t feel the need to buy a new Aston Martin every time his bonus came through. Conspicuous greed. Never a good thing.”
“What about inconspicuous greed?” Ali asked. He looked at her as though she was being facetious and barked at the twins to hurry up the stairs from the basement and to avoid touching the wallpaper.
“How’s Foy?” Desmond asked. “He was always suspicious of Nick. Always said he wasn’t one of us. And Tita must be reeling. Absolutely reeling.” He looked at Ali expectantly.
As they walked past the kitchen table, Ali could see the Daily Mail open on the photograph of Jake in his cloud of smoke.
“That’s put an end to your career in investment banking,” whispered Ali.
“Well at least some good has come out of this, then,” Jake said.
“I tell you what, if it looks as though they need to sell their house, tell them that I’d give them a good price,” Desmond said suddenly, as though he was bestowing a great favor. He nudged Ali in the ribs.
“Maybe you could tell them,” Ali suggested. “I’m sure they would like to see some old friends.”
“Can’t have them here with that rabble outside,” said Desmond, as he opened the front door to let them out. Ali turned to thank him, but he had already shut the door in their face. In two years, this was the longest
conversation she had ever had with him.
• • •
They arrived at Holland Park when the sun was at its highest, and sought refuge down one of the tree-lined paths. The twins left Ali and Jake trailing behind. The heat made their voices sound louder and hang in the air longer than they should, which made them both feel self-conscious. Jake kept both hands in the side pockets of his jeans and kicked the path as though there were leaves on the ground, but there was only dust, which sent tiny clouds billowing around their ankles. Hector and Alfie wanted to go to the Japanese garden so they could race backward and forward across the little bridge.
“Sure,” said Ali agreeably, grateful for their sense of purpose. “Anything to avoid the adventure playground. It will be hell on a day like this. And full of people who know what’s going on.”
“You can’t control other people’s response to what’s happened,” said Jake. “The most we can do is behave with integrity until it resolves. Mum should forget trying to spin and counterspin. The truth will out eventually. So let’s go to the Japanese garden because we want to go there, not because we’re afraid of who we might bump into on the monkey bars.”
He’s right, thought Ali, taken aback by the sophistication of his logic. Jake called out to the twins, pointing out a peacock on the path ahead. His tenderness and sense of responsibility all the more poignant in the circumstances.
“It’s because that’s what she does for a living,” said Ali. “Her instinct is to get out her side of the story and deny everything.”
“I’ve been studying Beowulf this year, and I’ve come to the conclusion that public relations is nothing more than a modern way of wreaking revenge on your enemies. Basically, you pay other people to go to war and maintain feuds on your behalf.”
Ali giggled. “Anyway, she should resist the urge to fight, particularly since she hasn’t got all the facts straight yet.”
“She’s convinced your father is innocent.”
Jake raised a cynical eyebrow. Ali was taken aback. Until that moment she hadn’t really considered the possibility that Nick might be guilty.
“Dad has never been completely comfortable in his own skin,” said Jake. “He comes from a very different background to Mum, and instead of embracing their differences, he’s tried to reinvent himself as a member of the upper middle classes, using Foy as a role model. So before you ask me if he’s innocent, I’ll tell you that there’s a strong chance I think he isn’t. I don’t blame him. He’s spent a long time trying to reconcile all the contradictory strands in his life, and he’s bound to fuck up one day.”
Ali looked at him. A curtain of jet-black fringe obscured his eyes so it was difficult to read the emotion behind the analysis. She wanted to reach out and touch his arm, because sometimes a physical gesture was more reassuring than words, but Ali was inhibited by the new equality in their relationship.
“All parents are fallible,” she finally agreed, wishing that she could respond more eloquently.
“How’s your sister?” Jake asked.
Ali had forgotten the conversation on the roof at the party.
“She’s finished the treatment. She wants to do her A-levels again, but my parents think she should stay at home for another year. She thinks she’s strong enough to deal with it.”
“What do you think?” asked Jake.
“I think she might get bored.”
“If she’s feeling better about herself, then she might be fine. I mean, Izzy is the only person I know who calculates the calories in her multivitamin, but I think she’s got more confidence now and is at least doing it with a sense of irony.”
“How many calories does a multivitamin have?” asked Ali.
“Fifteen, apparently.” Jake laughed. “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“When are you leaving?”
“I’ll weather the storm.” Ali smiled. “I can’t leave Hector and Alfie after what’s happened.”
“Well, let’s weather it together,” said Jake.
They walked beside each other, intimate enough to suggest they were together but careful not to stray too close. They looked either at the ground or directly ahead at the twins. They agreed that the squirrels were like overweight beggars as they waddled toward them and waited to be fed. They decided that the peacocks looked arrogant and that their tails made a sound like a drum when they fanned them out. They agreed that if the females were human they would wear Vivienne Westwood.
Occasionally, if another couple passed or a boisterous dog lunged toward them, they were forced into closer proximity. At one point their elbows bumped and they lurched away from each other like repelling magnets. This common intent was good, decided Ali.
“Malea left,” said Ali.
“Mum told me,” said Jake.
“I think she was scared,” they both said at once.
“Are you pretending to be twins?” asked Hector, eyeing them with curiosity as he waited for them to catch up.
Ali and Jake fell into self-conscious silence again. Then they both began speaking at the same time.
“How have you been?” they said together.
“Our timing is off,” Ali said, and laughed.
“Or on,” said Jake.
“Do you know who sold the photograph of you?” Ali asked as they fell into a more comfortable rhythm down a wider path where there was no need for proximity.
“I have an idea,” said Jake, “but she denies it.”
“Lucy?” Ali guessed.
“She found it in my room the last time she came to stay, when I finally managed to end it,” he said. “She was jealous of the girl and incandescent with me for being on the roof with you at my grandfather’s party.”
“Hell hath no fury and all that,” said Ali.
They walked into the Japanese garden together. Hector and Alfie insisted they should all cross the bridge together the first time.
“If one dies, then we all die,” declared Alfie.
“There might be explosives underneath,” said Hector seriously.
“Like The Bridge on the River Kwai,” said Alfie.
“It’s a Japanese garden,” said Hector.
“It was the British who planted the explosives,” argued Alfie.
“They’ve been watching a lot of war films with your grandfather,” Ali told Jake.
They started out on the circular path around the garden. The twins insisted on holding hands between Jake and Ali. As they got closer to the stream, they all let go and picked up speed so that by the time they reached the bridge they were racing to get to the other side.
“Quick, quick, before they get us,” shouted Hector, who was in front.
“Who gets us?” Ali shouted behind.
“The prison guards,” he yelled.
“And the sharks,” said Alfie, pointing at the giant carp in the pond.
“And the FSA,” said Hector.
“And Storm’s mummy,” said Alfie.
“We’re being pursued by the FSA.” Ali giggled as she and Jake hurtled across to the other side. When they were all safe they lay on the ground, laughing breathlessly at themselves. A couple passed them and remarked on what a happy family group they made.
“Your parents must be very proud,” one of them said to Ali. They all cackled even louder at the absurdity of the idea.
Hector and Alfie said they wanted to go round once more and asked Jake and Ali to wait for them on a bench beneath a huge acer on the other side of the stream.
“Sure,” said Jake, plonking himself down in the middle. Ali sat down beside him.
“They need to let off steam, they’ve been cooped up for two days.”
They both leaned forward, hands gripping the edge of the bench. Ali was grateful th
ey could focus on the twins, who had reached the beginning of the path again. She began to tell Jake about Storm’s mother refusing to have them to play.
“She was wild about them before this happened,” Ali complained.
“It will be interesting to see who sticks by us,” said Jake. “The people who are with you on the way up aren’t always the same as the ones who stay with you on the way down.”
“Your parents have hundreds of friends. Even if fifty percent desert them, they’ll still have more than my parents have ever had.”
“They have hundreds of acquaintances. It’s not the same thing. The first hint of failure and the invitations will dry up. Just you watch.”
The silence between them was filled by the sound of the water rushing over a series of stone waterfalls into the pond beneath.
“It reminds me of the swimming pool in Corfu,” said Ali.
“God, do you remember when you came down to the pool with the twins and Lucy got so angry?” said Jake.
“You were the one that was angry,” Ali pointed out.
“It was because she was always jealous of you,” said Jake.
“Why would she be jealous of me?” asked Ali.
“She always thought you were more integrated in our family than her,” Jake said with a shrug.
“I’m paid to be integrated,” said Ali.
“You’re grounded, and she’s insecure,” said Jake. “Some people find that threatening. I find it attractive.”
“Don’t you find it strange that so many Japanese tourists come here?” asked Ali, trying to nudge the conversation toward more neutral territory. “If I went to Japan I wouldn’t go in search of an English garden. It’s like someone from China coming to London to visit Chinatown, or Americans eating in McDonald’s.”
“Maybe they’re homesick. My grandfather always eats smoked salmon when he’s in Greece.”
They kept talking. Jake discussed which author he should choose to study in depth at the end of his second year—Seamus Heaney or Thomas Hardy. Ali asked whether studying Heaney meant he couldn’t answer questions on Beowulf in his finals. Jake suggested he should opt for Hardy because he liked the idea of people being held prisoner to fate. When Ali asked him why, he said that sometimes having too many opportunities was inhibiting, and it let you off the hook to think life was preordained. Ali said she wasn’t sure that she would ever be able to write an essay again, but Jake said it was like riding a bicycle. The twins came over to ask for water and something to eat, and then returned to their game on the bridge.
