Kane and Abel/Sons of Fortune

by Jeffrey Archer

  In the morning Melanie made him breakfast and attended to his every need, right up to the moment Abel had to leave.

  “I shall watch the Baron Group with renewed interest,” she told him. “Not that anyone doubts that it’s going to be a huge success.”

  “Thank you,” said Abel, “for breakfast and a memorable night.”

  “I hope we’ll be seeing each other again sometime soon,” Melanie added.

  “I’d like that,” said Abel.

  She kissed him on the cheek as a wife might who is seeing her husband off to work.

  “I wonder what kind of woman you’ll end up marrying,” she asked innocently as she helped Abel on with his overcoat.

  He looked at her and smiled sweetly. “When I make that decision, Melanie, you can be certain I shall be influenced by your views.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Melanie coyly.

  “Simply that I shall heed your advice,” replied Abel as he reached the front door, “to be sure to find myself a nice Polish girl.”

  Abel and Zaphia were married a month later. Zaphia’s cousin Janek gave her away and George was the best man. The reception was held at the Stevens and the drinking and dancing went on far into the night. By tradition, each man paid a token sum to dance with Zaphia and George perspired as he battled around the room, photographing the guests in every possible permutation and combination. After a midnight supper of barszcz, pierogi and bigos downed with wine, brandy and Danzig vodka, Abel and Zaphia were allowed to retire to the bridal suite.

  Abel was pleasantly surprised to be told by Curtis Fenton the next morning that the bill for his reception at the Stevens had been covered by Mr. Maxton and was to be treated as a wedding gift. Abel used the money he had saved for the reception as a down payment on a little house on Rigg Street.

  For the first time in his life he possessed a home of his own.

  PART FOUR

  1932-1941

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  William decided to take a month’s vacation in England before making any firm decision about his future; he even considered resigning from the board of Kane and Cabot, but Matthew convinced him that that was not the course of action his father would have taken in the same circumstances. Matthew appeared to take his friend’s defeat even harder than William himself. Twice in the following week he came into the bank with the obvious signs of a hangover and left important work unfinished.

  William decided to let these incidents pass without comment and invited Matthew to join him and Kate for dinner that night. Matthew declined, claiming that he had a backload of letters to catch up on. William wouldn’t have given the refusal a second thought if Matthew hadn’t been dining at the Ritz-Carlton that night with an attractive woman who William could have sworn was married to one of Kane and Cabot’s departmental managers. Kate said nothing except that Matthew didn’t look very well.

  William, preoccupied with his impending departure for Europe, took less notice of his friend’s strange behavior than he might otherwise have taken. At the last moment William couldn’t face a month in England alone and asked Kate to accompany him. To his surprise and delight she agreed.

  William and Kate sailed for England on the Mauretania in separate cabins. Once they had settled into the Ritz, in separate rooms, even on separate floors, William reported to the London branch of Kane and Cabot in Lombard Street and fulfilled the ostensible purpose of his trip to England by reviewing the bank’s European activities. Morale was high and Tony Simmons had evidently been a well-liked manager; there was little for William to do but murmur his approval.

  He and Kate spent a glorious month together in London, then Hampshire and Lincolnshire, looking at some land William had acquired a few months previously, more than twelve thousand acres in all. The financial return from farming land is never high, but as William explained to Kate, “It will always be there if things ever go sour again in America.”

  A few days before they were due to travel back to the United States, Kate decided she wanted to see Oxford, and William agreed to drive her down early the next morning. He hired a new Morris, a car he had never driven before. In the university city, they spent the day wandering around the colleges: Magdalen, superb against the river; Christ Church, grandiose but cloisterless; and Merton, where they just sat on the grass and dreamed.

  “Can’t sit on the grass, sir,” said the voice of a college porter.

  They laughed and walked hand in hand like undergraduates beside the Cherwell, watching eight Matthews straining to push their boat along as swiftly as possible. William could no longer imagine a life separated in any way from Kate.

  They started back for London in midafternoon and when they reached Henley on Thames, they stopped to have tea at the Bell Inn overlooking the river. After scones and a large pot of strong English tea (Kate was adventuresome and drank it with only milk, but William added hot water to dilute it), Kate suggested that they should hurry on before it was too dark to see the countryside; but when William had inserted a crank into the Morris, he could not get the engine to turn over, despite strenuous effort. Finally he gave up and, since it was getting late, decided that they would have to spend the night in Henley. He returned to the front desk of the Bell Inn and requested two rooms.

  “Sorry, sir, I have only one double room left,” said the receptionist.

  William hesitated for a moment and then said, “We’ll take it.”

  Kate looked somewhat surprised but said nothing; the receptionist looked suspiciously at her.

  “Mr. and Mrs.—er——?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. William Kane,” said William firmly. “We’ll be back later.”

  “Shall I put your cases in the room, sir?” the hall porter asked.

  “We don’t have any,” William replied, smiling.

  “I see, sir.”

  A bewildered Kate followed William up Henley’s High Street until he came to a halt in front of the parish church.

  “May I ask what we’re doing, William?” Kate asked.

  “Something I should have done a long time ago, my darling.”

  Kate asked no more questions. When they entered the Norman vestry, William found a church warden piling up some hymnals.

  “Where can I find the Vicar?” demanded William.

  The church warden straightened himself to his full height and regarded William pityingly.

  “In the vicarage, I dare say.”

  “Where’s the vicarage?” asked William, trying again.

  “You’re an American gentleman, aren’t you, sir?”

  “Yes,” said William, becoming impatient.

  “The vicarage will be next door to the church, won’t it?” said the church warden.

  “I suppose it will,” said William. “Can you stay here for the next ten minutes?”

  “Why should I want to do that, sir?”

  William extracted a large, white £5 note from his inside pocket and unfolded it. “Make it fifteen minutes to be on the safe side, please.”

  The church warden studied the £5 carefully and said, “Americans. Yes, sir.”

  William left the man with his £5 note and hurried Kate out of the church. As they passed the main notice board in the porch, he read: “‘The Vicar of this Parish is The Very Reverend Simon Tukesbury, M.A. (Cantab),’”and next to that pronouncement, hanging by one nail, was an appeal concerning a new roof for the church. Every penny toward the necessary £500 will help, declared the notice, not very boldly. William hastened up the path to the vicarage with Kate a few yards behind. A smiling, pink-cheeked, plump woman answered his sharp rap on the door.

  “Mrs. Tukesbury?” inquired William.

  “Yes.” She smiled.

  “May I speak to your husband?”

  “He’s having his tea at the moment. Would it be possible for you to come back a little later?”

  “I’m afraid it’s rather urgent,” William insisted.

  Kate had caught up with him but said nothing.


  “Well, in that case I suppose you’d better come in.”

  The vicarage was early sixteenth century and the small stone front room was warmed by a welcoming log fire. The Vicar, a tall, spare man who was eating wafer-thin cucumber sandwiches, rose to greet them.

  “Good afternoon, Mr … . ?”

  “Kane, sir, William Kane.”

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Kane?”

  “Kate and I,” said William, “want to get married.”

  “Oh, how nice,” said Mrs. Tukesbury.

  “Yes, indeed,” said the Vicar. “Are you a member of this parish? I don’t seem to remember …”

  “No, sir, I’m an American. I worship at St. Paul’s in Boston.”

  “Massachusetts, I presume, not Lincolnshire,” said the Very Reverend Tukesbury.

  “Yes,” said William, forgetting for a moment that there was a Boston in England.

  “Splendid,” said the Vicar, his hands raised as if he were about to give a blessing. “And what date did you have in mind for this union of souls?”

  “Now, sir.”

  “Now, sir?” said the startled Vicar. “I am not aware of the traditions in the United States that surround the solemn, holy and binding institution of marriage, Mr. Kane, though one reads of some very strange incidents involving some of your compatriots from California. I do, however, consider it nothing less than my duty to inform you that those customs have not yet become acceptable in Henley on Thames. In England, sir, you must reside for a full calendar month in any parish before you can be married and the banns must be posted on three separate occasions, unless there are very special and extenuating circumstances. Even did such circumstances exist, I would have to seek the bishop’s dispensation, and I couldn’t do that in under three days,” Mr. Tukesbury added, his hands firmly at his side.

  Kate spoke for the first time. “How much do you still need for the church’s new roof?”

  “Ah, the roof. Now there is a sad story, but I won’t embark upon its history at this moment—early eleventh century, you know——”

  “How much do you need?” asked William, tightening his grasp on Kate’s hand.

  “We are hoping to raise five hundred pounds. We’ve done commendably so far; we’ve reached twenty-seven pounds four shillings and four pence in only seven weeks.”

  “No, no dear,” said Mrs. Tukesbury. “You haven’t counted the one pound eleven shillings and two pence I made from my ‘Bring and Buy’ sale last week.”

  “Indeed I haven’t, my dear. How inconsiderate of me to overlook your personal contribution. That will make altogether … ,” began the Reverend Tukesbury as he tried to add the figures in his head, raising his eyes toward Heaven for inspiration.

  William took his wallet from his inside pocket, wrote out a check for £500 and silently proffered it to the Very Reverend Tukesbury.

  “I—ah, I see there are special circumstances, Mr. Kane,” said the surprised Vicar. The tone changed. “Has either of you ever been married before?”

  “Yes,” said Kate. “My husband was killed in a plane crash some four years ago.”

  “Oh, how terrible,” said Mrs. Tukesbury. “I am so sorry, I didn’t——”

  “Shush, my dear,” said the man of God, now more interested in the church roof than in his wife’s sentiments. “And you, sir?”

  “I have never been married before,” said William.

  “I shall have to telephone the bishop.” Clutching William’s check, the Very Reverend disappeared into the next room.

  Mrs. Tukesbury invited Kate and William to sit down and offered them the plate of cucumber sandwiches. She chatted on, but William and Kate did not hear the words as they sat gazing at each other.

  The Vicar returned three cucumber sandwiches later.

  “It’s highly irregular, highly irregular, but the bishop has agreed, on the condition, Mr. Kane, that you will confirm everything at the American embassy tomorrow morning and then with your own bishop at St. Paul’s in Boston—Massachusetts, when you return home.”

  He was still clutching the £500 check.

  “All we need now is two witnesses,” the Vicar continued. “My wife can act as one and we must hope that the church warden is still on duty, so that he can be the other.”

  “He is still on duty, I assure you,” said William.

  “How can you be so certain, Mr. Kane?”

  “He cost me one percent.”

  “One percent?” said the Very Reverend Tukesbury, baffled.

  “One percent of your church roof,” said William.

  The minister ushered William, Kate and his wife down the little path to the church and blinked at the waiting church warden.

  “Indeed, I perceive that Mr. Sprogget has remained on duty … . He has never done so for me; you obviously have a way with you, Mr. Kane.”

  Simon Tukesbury put on his vestments and a surplice while the church warden stared at the scene in disbelief.

  William turned to Kate and kissed her gently. “I know it’s a damn silly question in the circumstances, but will you marry me?”

  “Good God!” said the Very Reverend Tukesbury, who had never blasphemed in the fifty-seven years of his mortal existence. “You mean you haven’t even asked her?”

  Fifteen minutes later, Mr. and Mrs. William Kane left the parish church of Henley on Thames, Oxfordshire. Mrs. Tukesbury had had to supply the ring at the last moment, which she twitched from a curtain in the vestry. It was a perfect fit. The Very Reverend Tukesbury had a new roof, and Mr. Sprogget a yarn to tell them down at the Green Man, where he spent most of his £5.

  Outside the church the minister handed William a piece of paper. “Two shillings and sixpence, please.”

  “What for?” asked William.

  “Your marriage certificate, Mr. Kane.”

  “You should have taken up banking, sir,” said William, handing Mr. Tukesbury half a crown. He walked his bride in blissful silence back down the High Street to the Bell Inn. They had a quiet dinner in the fifteenth-century oak-beamed dining room and went to bed at a few minutes past nine. As they disappeared up the old wooden staircase to their room, the chief receptionist turned to the hall porter and winked. “If they’re married, I’m the King of England.”

  William started to hum “God Save the King.”

  The next morning Mr. and Mrs. Kane had a leisurely breakfast while the car was being fixed. A young waiter poured them both coffee.

  “Do you like it black or shall I add some milk?” asked William innocently.

  An elderly couple at the next table smiled benignly at them.

  “With milk, please,” said Kate as she reached across and touched William’s hand gently.

  He smiled back at her, suddenly aware the whole room was now staring at them.

  They returned to London in the cool early spring air, traveling through Henley, over the Thames, and then on through Berkshire and Middlesex into London.

  “Did you notice the look the porter gave you this morning, darling?” asked William.

  “Yes, I think perhaps we should have shown him our marriage certificate.”

  “No, no, you’d have spoiled his whole image of the wanton American woman. The last thing he wants to tell his wife when he gets home tonight is that we were really married.”

  When they arrived back at the Ritz in time for lunch, the desk manager was surprised to find William canceling Kate’s room. He was heard to comment later: “Young Mr. Kane appeared to be such a gentleman. His late and distinguished father would never have behaved in such a way.”

  William and Kate took the Aquitania back to New York, having first called at the American embassy in Grosvenor Gardens to inform a consul of their marital status. The consul gave them a long official form to fill out, charged them one pound and kept them waiting for well over an hour. The American embassy, it seemed, was not in need of a new roof. William wanted to go to Cartier’s in Bond Street and buy a gold wedding ring, but
Kate would not hear of it—nothing was going to make her part with the precious brass curtain ring.

  William found it difficult to settle down in Boston under his new chairman. The precepts of the New Deal were passing into law with unprecedented rapidity, and William and Tony Simmons found it impossible to agree on whether the implications for investment were good or bad. Expansion—on one front at least—became unstoppable when Kate announced soon after their return from England that she was pregnant, news that gave her parents and husband great joy. William tried to modify his working hours to suit his new role as a married man but to begin with he found himself at his desk increasingly often throughout the hot summer evenings. Kate, cool and happy in her flowered maternity smock, methodically supervised the decoration of the nursery of the Red House. William found for the first time in his life that he could leave his work desk and look forward to going home. If he had work left over he just picked up the papers and took them to the Red House, a pattern to which he adhered throughout his married life.

  While Kate and the baby, which was due about Christmastime, brought William great happiness at home, Matthew was making him increasingly uneasy at work. He had taken to drinking and coming to the office late without explanation. As the months passed, William found he could no longer rely on his friend’s judgment. At first, he said nothing, hoping it was little more than an odd out-of-character reaction—which might quickly pass—to the repeal of Prohibition. But it wasn’t and the problem went from bad to worse. The last straw came one November morning when Matthew arrived two hours late, obviously suffering from a hangover, and made a simple, needless mistake, selling off an important investment, which resulted in a small loss for a client who should have made a handsome profit. William knew the time had come for an unpleasant but necessary head-on confrontation. Matthew admitted his error and apologized regretfully. William was thankful to have the row out of the way and was about to suggest they go to lunch together when his secretary uncharacteristically rushed into his office.