This Was a Man

by Jeffrey Archer

  “I’m not her doctor,” said Richards, “but I can tell you she’s the best chairman we’ve ever had, and I’m not sure who’ll be brave enough to replace her when she stands down in a year’s time.”

  Harry smiled. Whenever he visited the Bristol Royal Infirmary, he could sense the respect and affection the staff felt for Emma.

  “If we win hospital of the year a second time,” Dr. Richards added, “she’ll certainly have played her part.”

  As they continued down the corridor, Harry passed two nurses who were taking a tea break. He noticed that one of them had a black eye and a swollen cheek which, despite heavy makeup, she hadn’t been able to disguise. Dr. Richards led Harry into a small cubicle that was empty apart from a bed and a couple of chairs.

  “Take your jacket off. A nurse will be with you shortly.”

  “Thank you,” said Harry. “I look forward to seeing you again in a year’s time.”

  “Once we’ve got all the tests back from the labs, I’ll drop you a line with the results. Not that I imagine they’ll be much different from last year.”

  Harry slipped off his jacket, hung it over the back of a chair, took off his shoes, and climbed onto the bed. He lay down, closed his eyes, and began to think about the next chapter of William Warwick and the Three Card Trick. How could the suspect possibly have been in two places at once? Either he was in bed with his wife or he was driving up to Manchester. Which was it? The doctor had left the door open and Harry’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard someone saying “Dr. Hands.” Where had he heard that name before?

  “Will you report him to Matron?” the voice asked.

  “Not if I want to keep my job,” said a second voice.

  “So old wandering hands gets away with it again.”

  “As long as it’s just his word against mine, he has nothing to fear.”

  “What did he get up to this time?”

  Harry sat up, took a notebook and pen from his jacket pocket, and listened carefully to the conversation that was taking place in the corridor.

  “I was in the laundry room on the third floor picking up some fresh sheets when someone came in. When the door closed and I heard it lock, I knew it could only be one person. I pretended not to notice, picked up some sheets, and made a beeline for the door. I tried to unlock it, but he grabbed me and pressed himself up against me. It was disgusting. I thought I’d throw up. No need for anyone to know about this, he said, just a bit of fun. I tried to elbow him in the groin but he had me pinned against the wall. Then he swung me around and started trying to kiss me.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Bit his tongue. He yelled, called me a bitch, and slapped me across the face. But it gave me enough time to unlock the door and escape.”

  “You have to report him. It’s time the bastard was removed from this hospital.”

  “Not much chance of that. When I saw him on ward rounds this morning, he warned me that I’d be looking for another job if I opened my mouth, and then added”—her voice dropped to a whisper—“when a woman’s got her mouth open, it’s only good for one thing.”

  “He’s sick, and shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.”

  “Don’t forget how powerful he is. He got Mandy’s boyfriend sacked after he told the police he’d seen him assaulting her, when he was the one who’d hit her. So what chance would I have after a grope in the laundry room? No, I’ve decided—”

  “Good morning, Sir Harry,” said a staff nurse as she entered the room and closed the door behind her. “Dr. Richards has asked me to take a blood sample and send it to the labs. Just a routine check, so if you could roll up one of your sleeves.”

  * * *

  “I suppose only one of us is qualified to be chairman,” said Giles, unable to hide a smirk.

  “This is no laughing matter,” said Emma. “I’ve already drawn up an agenda to make sure we cover all the topics that need to be discussed.” She handed Giles and Grace a copy each, and allowed them a few moments to consider the items before she spoke again.

  “Perhaps I should bring you up to date before we move on to item one.” Her brother and sister nodded. “The board accepted Cunard’s final offer of three pounds forty-one pence a share, and the takeover was completed at midday on February the twenty-sixth.”

  “That must have been quite a wrench,” said Giles, sounding genuinely sympathetic.

  “I have to admit that while I was clearing out my office, I was still wondering if I’d done the right thing. And I was glad no one else was in the room when I took down Grandfather’s portrait, because I couldn’t look him in the eye.”

  “I’d be happy to welcome Walter back to Barrington Hall,” said Giles. “He can hang alongside Grandma in the library.”

  “Actually, Giles, the chairman of Cunard asked if he could remain in the boardroom with all the other past chairmen.”

  “I’m impressed,” said Giles. “And even more convinced that I made the right decision about how I should invest some of my money,” he added without explanation.

  “But what about you, Emma?” said Grace, turning to her sister. “After all, you’ve also earned your right to a place in the boardroom.”

  “Bryan Organ has been commissioned to paint my portrait,” said Emma. “It will hang opposite dear Grandpa.”

  “What did Jessica have to say about that?” asked Giles.

  “She recommended him. Even asked if she might be allowed to attend the sittings.”

  “She’s growing up so fast,” said Grace.

  “She’s already a young lady,” said Emma. “And I’m considering taking her advice on another matter,” she added before returning to the agenda. “After the completion documents had been signed, a handover ceremony took place in the boardroom. Within twenty-four hours, the name of Barrington Shipping that had hung so proudly above the entrance gate for more than a century was replaced by Cunard.”

  “I know it’s only been a month,” said Giles, “but have Cunard honored their commitment to our staff, especially the long-serving ones?”

  “To the letter,” said Emma. “No one has been sacked, although quite a number of old-timers have taken advantage of the generous redundancy package Seb negotiated for them, along with a free trip on the Buckingham or the Balmoral, so no complaints on that front. However, we need to discuss our own position and where we go from here. As you both know, we’ve been offered a cash settlement of just over twenty million pounds each, with the alternative of taking Cunard shares, which has several advantages.”

  “How many shares are they offering?” asked Grace.

  “Seven hundred and ten thousand each, which last year yielded a dividend of £246,717. So have either of you made up your minds as to what you’re going to do with the money?”

  “I have,” said Giles. “After seeking Seb’s advice, I’ve decided to take half in cash, which Farthings Kaufman will invest across the board for me, and the other half in Cunard shares. They experienced a slight dip recently, which Seb tells me isn’t unusual following a takeover. However, he assures me that Cunard’s a well-run company with a proven record, and he expects their shares to continue yielding a three to four percent dividend, while growing in value year on year by about the same amount.”

  “That actually sounds very conservative,” said Emma, teasing her brother.

  “With a small ‘c,’” retorted Giles. “I’ve also agreed to finance a research assistant for the Fabian Society.”

  “What a bold gesture,” said Grace, not hiding her sarcasm.

  “And you’ve done something more radical?” said Giles, returning the barb.

  “I would hope so. Certainly more fun.”

  Emma and Giles stared at their sister, like two students in her class awaiting an answer.

  “I’ve already banked my check for the full amount. When I presented it to my bank manager, I thought he was going to faint. The following day, Sebastian came up to visit me in Cambridge, and on h
is advice I’ve put five million aside to cover any tax liability, and another ten into an investment account with Farthings Kaufman, to be spread across a wide range of well-established companies—his words. I’ve also left a million on deposit with the Midland, which will be more than enough for me to buy a small house near Cambridge, along with a guaranteed annual income of around £30,000. A lot more than I ever earned in all my years as a college don.”

  “And the other four million?”

  “I’ve donated a million to the Newnham College restoration fund, a further half million to the Fitzwilliam, and another half million to be divided among a dozen or so charities that I’ve taken an interest in over the years but have never been able to give more than a few hundred pounds in the past.”

  “You make me feel quite guilty,” said Giles.

  “I would hope so, Giles. But then I joined the Labour Party long before you did.”

  “That still leaves another couple of million to be accounted for,” said Emma.

  “I know it’s out of character, but I went on a shopping spree with Jessica.”

  “My God, what did she spend it on?” asked Emma. “Diamonds and handbags?”

  “Certainly not,” said Grace with some feeling. “A Monet, a Manet, two Picassos, a Pissarro, and a Lucian Freud, who she assures me is the coming man, as well as a Bacon of a Screaming Pope I wouldn’t want to hear deliver a sermon. Plus a Henry Moore maquette entitled King and Queen, which I’ve long admired, along with a Barbara Hepworth and a Leon Underwood. However, I refused to buy an Eric Gill, after I was told that he’d slept with his daughters. It didn’t seem to worry Jessica—you can’t deny real talent, she kept reminding me—but I put my foot down. My final purchase was the artwork for a Beatles record cover by Peter Blake, which I gave to Jessica as a reward for her knowledge and expertise. She knew exactly which galleries to visit, and bargained with the dealers like an East End barrow boy. I wasn’t sure whether to be proud or ashamed of her. And I must confess, I hadn’t realized spending money could be quite so exhausting.”

  Emma and Giles burst out laughing. “You put us both to shame,” said Emma. “I can’t wait to see the collection. But where will you display it?”

  “I think I’ve found an ideal house in Trumpington with enough wall space to hang all the paintings, and a large enough garden for the statues to be well displayed. So in future, it will be my turn to invite you to stay for the weekend. I haven’t closed the deal yet, but I’ve set Sebastian on to the poor estate agents and left him to settle the price. Although I can’t believe he’ll do any better than Jessica—she’s convinced that my art collection will turn out to be a more lucrative investment than stocks and shares, which she reminded her father you can’t hang on a wall. He tried to explain to her the difference between ‘appreciation’ and ‘appreciate,’ but he got nowhere.”

  “Bravo,” said Emma. “I only hope there’s the odd Monet left over for me, because I’d also intended to ask Jessica’s advice, although to tell you the truth I still haven’t decided what to do with my windfall. I’ve had three meetings with Hakim Bishara and Seb, but I’m no nearer to making up my mind. Having lost one chairmanship, I’ve been concentrating on the government’s new NHS reform package and its consequences for the Royal Infirmary.”

  “That bill will never see the light of day if Margaret Thatcher wins the election,” said Giles.

  “Amen to that,” said Emma. “But it remains my responsibility to prepare my fellow board members for the consequences should Labour be returned to power. I don’t intend to leave my successor, whoever he or she may be, to pick up the pieces.” She paused, before adding, “Any other business?”

  From under the table Giles produced magnificent models of the Buckingham and the Balmoral, along with a bottle of champagne. “My dearest Emma,” he said, “Grace and I will be forever in your debt. Without your leadership, dedication, and commitment, we would not be in the privileged position we now find ourselves. We will be eternally grateful.”

  Three tumblers that normally held water were filled to the brim with champagne by Giles, but Emma couldn’t take her eyes off the two model ships.

  “Thank you,” she said as they raised their glasses. “But I confess I’ve enjoyed every moment and I’m already missing being chairman. I also have a surprise for you. Cunard have asked me to join their board, so I too would like to make a toast.” She rose from her place, and raised her glass.

  “To Joshua Barrington, who founded the Barrington Shipping Line in 1839, and made a profit of thirty-three pounds, four shillings, and tuppence in his first year as chairman, but promised the shareholders more.”

  Giles and Grace raised their glasses.

  “To Joshua Barrington.”

  “Perhaps the time has come for us to celebrate the recent birth of my great-nephew, Jake,” said Giles, “who Seb hopes will be the next chairman but one of Farthings Bank.”

  “Would it be too much to hope that Jake might consider doing something more worthwhile than being a banker?” said Grace.

  5

  “HOW GOOD WAS your source?”

  “Unimpeachable. And he wrote down what he overheard, word for word.”

  “Well, I can’t pretend, chairman,” admitted Matron, “that I haven’t heard rumors of this kind before, but never anything that could be substantiated. The one nurse who did make an official complaint resigned a week later.”

  “What options do we have?” asked Emma.

  “Do you know anything about the nurse, other than the conversation that was overheard?”

  “I can tell you that the alleged assault took place in the laundry room on the third floor.”

  “That might cut it down to half a dozen nurses.”

  “And she’d been on ward rounds with Dr. Hands earlier that morning.”

  “When was that?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “Then we’re probably down to two or three nurses at most.”

  “And she was West Indian.”

  “Ah,” said Matron. “I wondered why Beverley had a black eye, and now I know. But she’d have to make an official complaint for us to consider opening an ethics inquiry.”

  “How long would that take?”

  “Six to nine months, and even then, as there were clearly no witnesses, I wouldn’t give you much of a chance.”

  “So it’s back to square one and Dr. Hands can continue on his merry way while we do nothing about it.”

  “I’m afraid so, chairman, unless…”

  * * *

  “Many congratulations on the successful takeover,” said Margaret Thatcher when Emma came on the line, “although I can’t imagine it was an easy decision.”

  “I was torn in half,” admitted Emma. “But the board, my family, and all our professional advisors were unanimous in advising me to accept Cunard’s offer.”

  “So how are you filling your time, now you’re no longer chairman of Barrington’s?”

  “I still have a few more months before I hand over the chairmanship of the Royal Infirmary, but after last night’s vote of no confidence in the government, it looks as if I’ll be spending most of my time running around the West Country trying to make sure you end up in Downing Street.”

  “I’d rather you were running around the whole country doing the same job,” said Mrs. Thatcher.

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “If you switch on your television, you’ll see the prime minister being driven into Buckingham Palace for an appointment with the Queen. Mr. Callaghan will be seeking her permission to prorogue Parliament so he can call a general election.”

  “Has a date been fixed?”

  “Thursday May the third. And I want you to take on your brother head-on.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “As you probably know, he’s once again in charge of Labour’s marginal-seats campaign. Those fifty or sixty key constituencies that will determine the outcome of the election.
I think you’d be the ideal person to do the same job for the Tory party.”

  “But Giles has vast experience of election campaigns. He’s a consummate politician—”

  “—and no one knows him better than you.”

  “There must be a dozen or more people who are far better qualified to take on such a responsibility.”

  “You’re my first choice. And I have a feeling your brother will not be pleased when he learns who he’s up against.” A long silence followed, before Mrs. Thatcher added, “Come up to London and meet the party chairman, Peter Thorneycroft. He’s already set everything up, so all I need now is a coordinator who will put the fear of God into our local chairmen in those marginal seats.”

  This time Emma didn’t hesitate. “When do I start?”

  “Tomorrow morning, ten o’clock, Central Office,” replied the leader of the opposition.

  * * *

  “You asked to see me, chairman.”

  “I did, and I’ll get straight to the point,” said Emma even before Hands had been given the chance to sit down. “I’ve had several complaints from nurses concerning your unethical behavior.”

  “Several?” said Hands, who sat down in his chair, looking relaxed.

  “During the past year, Matron has been collecting evidence, and she has asked me to set up an official inquiry.”

  “Be my guest,” said Hands. “You’ll find nothing will stick, and I’ll be completely exonerated.”

  “Nothing will stick? An unfortunate choice of words, I would have thought, Dr. Hands, unless of course…”

  “You say another word, Lady Clifton, and I’ll instruct my lawyers to issue a writ for libel.”

  “I doubt it. Like you, I’ve made sure there are no witnesses, and while I accept that you may be cleared of all the charges, I intend to make sure that your reputation will be in tatters, and you’ll never be able to find a job in this country again. So I suggest—”

  “Are you threatening me? If you are, it could well be your reputation that ends up in tatters, once the inquiry proves to be a waste of time and money—and just when BRI has once again been shortlisted for hospital of the year.”