by Menon, David
‘So you do support early intervention in so-called problem families on the estate?’
‘I certainly do, yes, because I’m thinking of the rights of the children. There are cases right across the country where if social services had intervened earlier then children’s lives might have been saved. It’s not about the Nanny state. It’s simply about saving lives. We also need to recruit more social workers from estates like the Tatton, people who’ve got firsthand experience of living in a community that never goes beyond its own boundaries, never goes to the cinema or into town or on holiday, never engages with the rest of society. We need people who know what it’s like to live on estates like the Tatton and can deal with the residents because they’re one of their own. We need to look into how we can achieve that because middle-class do-good solutions don’t work on estates like the Tatton.’
‘Creating the big society?’
‘No,’ said Paul, firmly, ‘creating the truly fair society where everybody recognises their responsibilities as well as their right to a fair go.’
‘You sound like you’re on a bit of a crusade?’
‘I don’t like the word crusade but I do want to do something to stop the tide of wasted lives. We’re also working with Colleen Price who did a fantastic job as Head of Tatton High School only to see her hard work destroyed by a mindless vandal. We’re working with her to repair the damage done to the school and she’ll set standards of education in the area higher than they’ve ever been.’
‘And what’s the other dimension to what you’re doing at the foundation?’
‘Well we’ve set up at Clarissa Harding Hall a residential clinic for members of the armed forces who’ve returned from active duty in Iraq and Afghanistan with combat stress. Now that could mean anything in terms of how their behaviour changes but the clinic will be there to give them the necessary treatment.’
‘You’ve given up your title of the Earl of Gatley and with it your right to sit in the House of Lords. That’s a lot of history to give up.’
‘I’m not interested in titles,’ said Paul, ‘I never have been and I don’t see any reason to change now. I’ve never been in favour of the hereditary principle and I don’t think that anybody should be in the second chamber of parliament unless they’ve been elected to it. People talk about a democratic deficit in the EU but the biggest democratic deficit for British people is a House of Lords that remains unelected. It’s what I felt before I inherited the title and I don’t see any reason to change my view now.’
‘Despite the change in your personal circumstances?’
‘Especially because of the change in my personal circumstances. You have to put your money where your mouth is or else your values are nothing more than meaningless posturing.’
‘And what about your campaign to remove all remaining privileges from the establishment? How is that going to be more than posturing?’
‘I want to shame those at the top of our society into recognising that privilege has no place in a modern country like ours. I want to see an end to all titles and I want to see an end to the monarchy. I’ve been given a profile that wasn’t of my choosing but I’m going to use it as a means of waking the people up to what’s been done to them for centuries. The royals and the aristocracy don’t give a damn about ordinary people. That’s the message I want people to understand and then do something about it.’
*
A couple of evenings later, Paul had just got home to his Salford home when he received a visitor. The man on his doorstep must’ve been in his late fifties with thin grey hair parted on the left hand side. He was dressed in a sombre looking dark grey three-piece suit and his shoes were so highly polished that he could almost see his reflection in them. He was taller than Paul and he had that commanding presence that couldn’t be ignored.
‘My name is Charles Bartlett,’ he announced as he reached out his hand and Paul shook it. ‘Major General Charles Bartlett. I work for the Crown. May I come in?’
Paul was bemused. ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘but what do you want with me?’
‘I’ll explain inside.’
Paul stepped back to let him through and gestured for him to sit down in the lounge armchair. Paul sat on the sofa at right angles to him.
‘So?’ said Paul. ‘What can I do for you? Is it about me giving back my title?’
‘In a roundabout way, yes,’ said Bartlett who then opened his old-fashioned style leather briefcase and brought out a pile of papers.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Then I’ll explain,’ said Bartlett.
Something about Bartlett’s voice made Paul feel a shiver go down his spine. What the fuck was this all about?
‘I need you to sign this,’ said Bartlett as he handed Paul a two-page document.
‘What is it?’
‘Well you don’t need to concern yourself with all the details,’ said Bartlett. ‘But what it basically means is that you relinquish your right to be part of the line of succession.’
‘The line of succession? Major Bartlett, what on earth are you talking about?’
‘You’re entitled to a place in the line of succession because of who your grandfather was.’
‘My grandfather was a Nazi war criminal.’
‘No, he wasn’t,’ said Bartlett. ‘Dieter Naumann was not your grandfather. Your grandfather was a Prince, the brother of King George.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘And it means that you’re a second cousin to her majesty the Queen.’
‘Edward?’
‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to confirm that,’ said Bartlett. ‘We let things go too far with your grandmother and I’d be the first to admit that. The situation should never have got as far as charges being made. But now we’re moving much more quickly.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘The document includes a confidentiality clause,’ said Bartlett. ‘You must never reveal your heritage to anyone.’
Just when Paul thought he couldn’t be given anymore shocks that would make the ground shake beneath his feet, he received another one. He didn’t know whether to be relieved that he wasn’t related to a Nazi war criminal after all or to be horrified at the reality of being related to the world’s most dysfunctional family. But now it made sense why his grandmother rejected his mother. If Naumann had been her father then she would’ve been their love child. But he wasn’t. And Paul’s grandmother, for reasons he’ll never know, had a child she didn’t want by a man who probably didn’t love her. He was married and living in exile then. The monarchy probably couldn’t have withstood another scandal so soon after the abdication. So Paul’s mother had to suffer to save their pathetic skins.
‘I won’t sign anything,’ said Paul.
‘You don’t have any choice.’
‘Yes I do and I won’t sign anything.’
‘Look here, I do hope you’re not going to cause us any trouble?’
‘And what will happen if I do?’ Paul retorted angrily. ‘Will I have a car accident in a tunnel late at night where the car that made contact with mine is never traced? Will you make it so that the ambulance takes twice as long to get to the nearest hospital than it would do usually? I mean, isn’t that how you deal with family members who show the royals up for the emotional illiterates that they are?’
‘And talk like that won’t get you anywhere, Mr. Foster,’ said Bartlett, a flash of annoyance running across his face. He held up the document and a pen. ‘Now please sign this.’
‘I said no,’ said Paul, defiantly. ‘I will not acquiesce to some kind of royal command. I’m a republican. I don’t believe in the Crown or in titles which is one of the reasons I gave mine back. I’m not interested in being part of any line of succession, Major Bartlett. You can run back to your boss and tell her that.’
‘I should warn you that your refusal may have consequences.’
‘And what is she going to do? Send me to the tower and have my head chopped
off? Watch the news, Major Bartlett. People all over the world are finally realising the power that they have to remove all those at the top who’ve kept them down for too long. It will happen here.’
Bartlett looked up with his eyes fixed into Paul’s. ‘Sign the document, please.’
‘No wonder they all sympathised with Hitler. They’re all fascists!’
‘Just like your father, I understand.’
‘Get out! Go on, get out of my house!’
Bartlett screwed the top back on his fountain pen and collected his things. He stood up and made for the door but then he stopped and looked at Paul.
‘People like you come and go but the British state remains timeless.’
‘People like me?’
‘People who think they can change things,’ said Bartlett. ‘Do you really think that we would ever tolerate the social order of this great nation being challenged? Oh, every politician that comes along claims they can make it better for everyone at the bottom with talk of progressive this and progressive that but they all get sucked in eventually. The establishment of this country is more powerful than any elected mouthpiece. The lower classes will be kept down there by the system and we will maintain the social hierarchy on which our history and traditions stand. Nobody will ever change things fundamentally and anybody who tries will be dealt with in one way or another. The poor will always be too stupid to realise what the monarch really thinks of them. They’ll continue to buy the tea towels and wave the flag on royal wedding days. Their stupid belief that the monarch actually cares about them is what keeps her there and what will keep her successors there. You made a fine and fancy speech the other day but you should know from the example of your late grandmother that we will have our way and you never will.’
‘If you don’t get out of my house I will throw you out.’
‘Oh don’t worry, I’m going,’ said Bartlett. ‘But you will be hearing from us again.’
TWENTY TWO
Sara slammed her hand against the filing cabinet in her office.
‘I can understand your anger, Sara,’ said Hargreaves, ‘but there’s nothing that you or I can do.’
‘Sir, Paul Foster came to me twice, once when his house had been broken into and once when he was convinced he was being followed. He told me that a man who said he was representing the Crown had visited him and more or less threatened him with dire consequences if he didn’t keep his mouth shut. This man, Major General Bartlett, isn’t known to any of the agencies we deal with or to the palace. They’re denying all knowledge of him because it’s part of the cover up, sir. Now I know that Paul Foster was about to go to the press with all this but then low and behold he ends up dead in a car accident late at night. We know that his brakes had been cut and that he only had one drink in the bar he went to. But the autopsy said that the amount of alcohol in his bloodstream would’ve meant that he would barely have been able to walk, let alone drive a car.’
‘You make a very convincing case, DCI Hoyland,’ said Hargreaves, ‘but it won’t go anywhere.’
‘He was murdered, sir.’
‘I agree it looks very much that way.’
‘I’m a law enforcement officer and I should be out there finding who did it.’
‘But you never will find them, Sara,’ said Hargreaves, ‘we both know that.’
‘And all because we’ve been ordered not to proceed with the bloody investigation.’
‘It will go down as a tragic accident.’
Sara snorted. ‘Yeah, and they’re not even being original with that one.’
‘DCI Hoyland, if you try and proceed with this then it will be the end to your career,’ said Hargreaves. ‘Now I’m warning you. Forget Paul Foster and forget this case. I know it’s wrong but if you don’t then I will not be able to protect you.’
‘This absolutely stinks, sir,’ said Sara.
‘Yes it does,’ said Hargreaves. ‘Look, I’m as frustrated as you, Sara, believe me I am. I don’t like anything about this and what’s frustrating is that nothing can be done about it. We’ve got to let it go, Sara. I’m sorry but that’s just the way it is.’
‘Sir, I’m employed to uphold the law of this land,’ said Sara, ‘but what’s happening here, is that faceless people who I can’t identify are forcing me into being complicit in their breaking of that law. I didn’t think I lived in that kind of country.’
*
By the time Sara got down to the pub she was in a foul mood. The last person she wanted to see was Tim and if he hadn’t seen her, she’d have turned on her heels and left. He was just getting himself a drink and he bought her one too. Then they went and sat down at a table at the other end of the bar.
‘The Paul Foster business?’
‘How did you guess?’
‘It’s been winding you up since we were told not to investigate it.’
‘It’s wrong, Tim,’ Sara insisted. ‘It is so wrong.’
‘I know but the Superintendent is right,’ said Tim. ‘We have to let it go.’
‘Paul Foster was one of the good guys, Tim,’ said Sara. ‘We should be getting justice for him.’
‘But we can’t,’ said Tim. ‘I’m as angry about it as you but are we going to risk our careers over it?’
Sara sighed. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose we are.’
‘So how’s it going between you and Kieran?’
‘That’s a bit of a change of subject.’
‘Well it’s pointless talking about the Paul Foster case,’ said Tim. ‘It’s been taken out of our hands by people much more powerful than us. So how is it going?’
‘Very well as it happens.’
‘The sex is good then?’
‘Jealous?’
‘What? Of a kid fresh out of training college?’
‘Look, let’s just talk about something else’
Tim sipped his pint. ‘Like what? The weather? How the boys are doing in the Ashes test down in Perth? What it’s like to have sex with a boy instead of a man?’
Sara picked up her jacket that had been lying beside her and stood up. Tim was really doing her head in and she just wasn’t in the mood for it.
‘I may have ten years on Kieran but I tell you something, Tim,’ said Sara, ‘he’s a lot more mature about personal relationships than you. And he wouldn’t be winding me up like this when he knows the kind of day I’ve had.’
Tim grabbed her wrist. ‘Don’t go, Sara.’
Sara slumped back down on her chair. ‘I don’t know what you want from me, Tim.’
‘I don’t know either,’ said Tim. ‘The answers to a lot of unanswerable questions about our baby, I suppose.’
‘You were getting married to Helen, you were happy… ‘
‘…and all the time I had a son,’ said Tim, ‘and he’s out there somewhere and he doesn’t know that his Daddy would give anything to hold him in his arms.’
‘Tim?’
Tim and Sara both turned round to see a shocked looking Helen standing above them. It was only then that Tim remembered he’d asked his wife to join him at the pub. He immediately stood up and reached out to her but she backed away. The looks she exchanged told them that she had heard every word. She started crying and ran out of the pub.
Tim stood up and ran after her, leaving Sara alone.
THE END
BEAUTIFUL CHILD
The next DCI Sara Hoyland mystery centres on a series of apparently unlinked murders and the confessions of a prisoner who was forcibly migrated to Australia as a child.
www.davidmenon.com
www.empire-uk.com
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