The Long Firm

by Jake Arnott

  His current project is to build a township near Enugu in southern Nigeria. The plan is to construct 3,000 houses & a shopping precinct. He has secured government approval but lacks enough investment to get started. He wasn’t disappointed when I told him that I don’t have that sort of capital at my disposal. He said that he thinks that my title & status will be of use in attracting support for the scheme. And that I might be able to help him find potential investors in London.

  Tony gave us lunch. John Ogungbe asked us what we thought about Ian Smith and the Rhodesia situation. We were both v. diplomatic & rather skirted around the issue. Tony changed the subject & bewailed the fate of business under a Labour administration. Apparently Wilson is planning to introduce a Corporation Tax in the budget. Gave serious warnings to J. Ogungbe against Nigeria embracing socialism. Also invited me to join a special group looking at party policy on overseas aid that the Advisory Committee on Policy has set up. I accepted.

  Wednesday, 24 February

  Went to see Harry at his flat. Explained to him what had been discussed yesterday. Suggested that he meet with John Ogungbe & he agreed. I thought of arranging some sort of civilised luncheon at White’s or somewhere but Harry had his own ideas.

  ‘Why don’t you invite him to my club?’ he proposed.

  ‘The Stardust?’

  ‘Yeah, why not? He can be guest of honour.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea, Harry?’

  I was determined that we should make a good impression. I dread any vulgar behaviour from Harry. Of course, I couldn’t say this to him. He could get so touchy.

  ‘What’s the matter with my club?’ he retorted indignantly.

  ‘Nothing Harry. It’s just that . . .’ I sighed. ‘We need to be on our best behaviour.’

  Harry laughed heartily at this.

  ‘Don’t you worry, your lordship,’ he said. ‘I’ll behave myself.’

  Thursday, 25 February

  1922 Committee have approved new system for choosing the next leader – a vote by MPs. Sir Alec is bravely hanging on but only a matter of time before he will have to announce resignation.

  Saturday, 27 February

  At The Stardust Club with John Ogungbe as guest of honour, Harry fussing about as host, trying maybe a little too hard to make our guest feel welcome. But he managed to invite a few of his business friends who he thought might be interested in investing some money into the scheme. Of course there were the inevitable photographs.

  Mr Starks & Mr Ogungbe eye each other up a little suspiciously at first. I could tell that Harry found John attractive, not just as a business proposition. When I first introduced them he slyly winked at me as if in complicity. There was something over-friendly in Harry’s manner that worried me. Not sure about Harry’s feelings about race. I knew that he was touchy about his own Jewishness but I didn’t quite know whether he himself harboured prejudice in other areas. He seemed completely unabashed about talking about colour though. He quickly turned the conversation to boxing. I suspect that this is the one area where Harry has contact with blacks. He reeled off a list of coloured pugilists as if John might know them personally, readily conceding their superiority. ‘White boys just ain’t hungry enough any more,’ he lamented. I wasn’t sure if this concession covered for an overall feeling of superiority that he might have. I feared that he might say something uncircumspect.

  John Ogungbe appeared to enjoy himself. He laughed loudly at all of Harry’s jokes and oft times gave that glazed-eyed grin I’d first noticed on meeting him. Harry was very taken with him.

  ‘What a find, Teddy,’ he confided to me. ‘He’s the son of a chief, you know.’

  We all got very drunk. Harry’s strategy was to entertain lavishly, if a little crudely. Not being sure of Ogungbe’s proclivities, Harry had made sure that there were some pretty boys on hand as well as a few available tarts. When John showed an interest in one of the women Harry made sure that the lucky girl went home with him.

  Sunday, 28 February

  Dreadful hangover. Felt sullied & spiritually dissipated. Went to Evensong at All Saints in Margaret St. It’s Quinquagesima. The service had a marvellously calming effect upon me. Felt grateful to have a moment of peace for one to pray quietly to one’s Redeemer. ‘Bow, stubborn knees, & heart with strings of steel, be soft as sinews of the new-born babe. All may be well.’

  Monday, 1 March

  Ogungbe appeared at my flat in Eaton Square quite out of the blue.

  ‘Harry was quite taken with your scheme,’ I told him. ‘And with you, if you don’t mind me saying.’

  Ogungbe grunted & nodded. Much more sullen now.

  ‘He tells me you’re the son of a chief.’

  Ogungbe laughed sharply.

  ‘My father worked on the railways. I gave him that chief story because I knew it would impress him. I also told him that I had six wives but he didn’t seem so interested in that.’

  I couldn’t help laughing myself.

  ‘He’s something of a tribal chief himself, isn’t he?’ he suggested mischievously.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Come on. I’m not stupid. You think I haven’t worked out where he gets all his money? And that whore the other night. She told me plenty.’

  ‘I hope that this doesn’t put you off doing business with him.’

  Ogungbe laughed again.

  ‘Don’t worry. I know all about the British sense of fair play. You think we Africans are innocent natives? We know how things operate. We’ve had it done to us for long enough. We’ve learnt from it.’

  I’m less enamoured by this new Ogungbe that was sitting opposite me in my drawing room. I’m not sure of what the proposed business deal would entail & what would be its consequences but I didn’t like the thought of him having the upper hand. Despite this I arranged for a proper meeting to go through the scheme.

  Friday, 5 March

  Meeting at Ogungbe’s offices in Euston. A large table laid out with architects’ plans & engineering drawings. He even had a little model of the scheme. He went through the whole thing in detail.

  Harry sat with Emmanuel Gould, who takes care of his finances. Little Manny sat quietly, intently blinking through his round spectacles as Ogungbe laid out all the plans in front of us. Harry, by contrast, was agitated and enthusiastic. Pointing at things & eagerly asking questions.

  The conversation moved on to money & then Manny took an active part. The initial investment was to be £25,000 & then further payments as construction was undertaken. In the long run, a profit of over £200,000 could be realised from the project. Manny stroked his chin & looked cautiously over at Harry who nodded almost absently. A company would be set up to oversee the investment. I had my doubts about the whole thing but then it wasn’t my money. I just hoped that my name on the letter heading of this new firm would bring me a handsome commission.

  Then everyone stood up & shook hands. Harry hovered over the model of the township and rubbed his hands together.

  ‘What’s it going to be called?’ he asked.

  ‘That’s yet to be decided,’ replied Ogungbe.

  ‘Tell you what,’ Harry went on, gazing down at the tiny blocks of flats. ‘We could call it “Starksville”.’

  Ogungbe gave Harry his impassive grin. As he looked over at me his yellowy eyes glared.

  Monday, 8 March

  West African Developments came into being today with me nominally on the board. Drinks around at Harry’s to celebrate. After initial euphoria H. looked a bit grim faced. ‘I’m putting a lot into this, Teddy,’ he said. ‘I’m going to have to call in a few favours.’

  Thursday, 11 March

  Terrible news. Harry has been arrested. One of his boys came around to tell me the news. Apparently he has been charged with ‘making an unwarranted demand with menaces’. Horrible sinking feeling. This could ruin me. Need to make sure that I can distance myself from any unpleasantness.

  Friday, 12 March

&n
bsp; Visit from Manny Gould. The latest is that Harry has been refused bail and is on remand in Brixton prison. Manny made all sorts of reassuring noises about it being a ‘very flimsy case’. I’m not so sure. Told Manny that my reputation wouldn’t allow me to be caught up in all this & the little Yid just shrugged and said, ‘Well, if Mr Starks goes down, so might you, your lordship. And we want to avoid that now, don’t we?’ He insisted that I made sure that the Nigerian project went ahead as planned. ‘Business as usual,’ he said. ‘That’s the order of the day.’

  Saturday, 13 March

  Very depressed about how things have turned out. Oh, why have I allowed myself get caught up in all this? Feeling strangely reckless. Went to the Colony Casino & played the tables as if tempting the fates. Bumped into one of Harry’s cohorts. Seemed casual about the whole business. ‘I wouldn’t worry,’ he said with an affable grin. ‘People can be got at.’

  Monday, 15 March

  Went to see J. Ogungbe at his Euston office. He was very perturbed about the Harry situation. I reassured him that West African Developments would be able to fulfil their commitment to the project. ‘That’s good, Teddy,’ he said. ‘We have an agreement, after all, and if it were to fall through I would hold you personally responsible.’ He’s off to Nigeria this week to oversee the start of construction on the scheme.

  Thursday, 18 March

  Harry’s application for bail to a judge in chambers turned down.

  Friday, 26 March

  Bad week for the Tories. Liberals win Roxburgh, Selkirk & Peebles by-election. If we can’t win seats in the Borders where can we win them? Knives out for Sir Alec. Daily Telegraph running a front-page story suggesting there could be a leadership contest before Easter. With Sir Alec goes the last of the old school, I fear. Après? – the inevitable rise of the grammar school boys.

  Wednesday, 31 March

  Judge Griffith-Jones at the Old Bailey turned down another application for bail. They were going to take it to the Lord Chief Justice, apparently.

  Friday, 2 April

  Manny came around to see me to persuade me to support Harry’s application in the Lords. I am extremely reluctant to do this but once again oblique references to my being implicated etc. M. suggested that I should table a question along the lines of asserting the rights of an individual in being held in custody for such a long period without trial. Eventually agreed to do what I could. Didn’t really have any choice. Feel quite sick about the whole business.

  Wednesday, 7 April

  House of Lords. A bit unsteady on my feet as I asked the question. Had a few drinks beforehand. Dutch courage. My question v. badly received. Challenged as to whether I held any kind of brief for Mr Starks. Denied this vigorously, saying that I have always fought for the right of any person not to be held without trial. Catcalls. Viscount Milburn declaring that ‘such a question has no place in being asked here’. Felt thoroughly humiliated by the whole thing, though managed to maintain a posture of righteous indignation throughout. Application denied in any case. Trial date has been set for April 15.

  Thursday, 8 April

  To Little Venice for lunch at Diana Cooper’s. She was as charming as ever but confessed that she felt awfully depressed at getting old. ‘I feel posthumous, Teddy,’ she confided to me. Made me conscious of my own decline, too. All the other guests were of a younger generation. Some television presenter & new friends that D. had made in the neighbourhood. We talked of Duff and reminisced about Philip Sassoon’s weekend parties at Trent Park in the ’30s. Like a dream of another world.

  Thursday, 15 April

  Good news as to opening day of Harry’s trial at Old Bailey. Key prosecution witnesses failed to turn up. Judge ordered adjournment.

  Friday, 16 April

  Prosecution case against Harry has completely fallen apart. Judge threw the case out of court. Evening Standard reported Harry’s comment leaving the Old Bailey: ‘It’s a case of police harassment, pure and simple.’

  Big celebration at The Stardust in the evening. Lots of now familiar faces. And ‘personalities’. Film actress Ruby Ryder & radio comedian Gerald Wilman. Wilman very camp. Told a funny story about a repentant homo actor being caught in flagrante delicto with a hotel bellboy. ‘I’ll turn over a new leaf,’ the queer thespian declared. ‘Just once I’ve got to the bottom of this page.’ Also noticed Detective Sergeant Mooney amongst the gathering greedily quaffing the champagne. Harry very grateful about my support. ‘You’ve been very staunch, Teddy. I appreciate that.’ Showed his gratitude in the form of a new boy for me to take home. Feel tremendous relief (in more ways than one!).

  Friday, 16 April

  Good Friday. Away for a weekend at Hartwell Lodge. Went to St Matthew’s at Hartwell-juxta-Mare for the Mass of the Pre-Sanctified. Gave thanks for how things have turned out this week.

  Saturday, 17 April

  Fine spring day. Went for a walk with Ruth along the coastal path. Wild flowers in bloom everywhere. Sea air marvellous. Good to be out of London for a spell. Good to be away from all this business with Harry. It really has been too much. Must try to maintain a safe distance from his intrigues in the future.

  Monday, 19 April

  Board meeting of West African Developments. Harry had initial report on the progress of the township project from Ogungbe. It all sounded a bit vague to be honest. Harry seemed pleased enough though. Passed around some photos of workmen digging out the foundations & grinning for the camera with relish. Grandiose illusions – they were carving out the footings of his new empire. Mentioned the matter of my commission. Harry said that this would be paid once the scheme had started to realise some return on investment. Not what I had in mind.

  Tuesday, 20 April

  Craig turned up on my doorstep late last night. It had been raining & he was all wet & dishevelled in a rumpled and dirty suit with the collar turned up. He looked terrible. ‘I was just passing,’ he muttered & managed a mirthless smile. Should have told him to get lost, really. But he looked desperate & I feared some sort of scene in the street. So I invited him in & he stood in front of the fire in the drawing room as I poured him a brandy. He shivered & mumbled something about ‘needing to get back on his feet’. Let him stay over in the spare bedroom. When he left this next morning I slipped him a five-pound note.

  Saturday, 24 April

  V. warm day. Went for a stroll. Saw a pretty youth on the King’s Road with long hair, frilly shirt & bell-bottomed trousers. Reminded of Oxford days & the dandy style we wore in those days. Oxford bags – trousers flared out to 28 inches in bright hues. Quite as outrageous as any of this ‘swinging’ style. Young people always think that they’ve found something new. Had wistful thoughts of when one was young & fashionable & desired. Now I’m just a flabby-faced old buffer in a bow tie. Playing the Lord.

  Wednesday, 28 April

  Craig turned up again, looking a good deal smarter. Said he wanted to borrow some money. I gave him twenty quid and told him not to worry about paying it back. I can hardly convince myself that this is the end of it though.

  Wednesday, 5 May

  In the Lords for a debate on the Finance Bill. Saw Tom Driberg in the Smoking Room later, eager for gossip & making none too oblique references to Mr H. Starks. I chided him that gossip should, by its nature, be confined to talking about others, not oneself. When parting he suddenly became serious. ‘Be careful, Teddy,’ he said. Sudden paranoia. Driberg urging caution is not a good sign.

  Tuesday, 10 May

  Craig at my flat again. No good deed ever goes unpunished. Talked of some ‘business’ plan of his. Some fairy story about setting up a car-hire firm. What he wants is someone to invest in it.

  ‘Maybe you’d like to put some money into it,’ he suggested.

  ‘I’d like to help,’ I tried to assure him. ‘But, you see, all my money’s tied up at the moment, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Well, maybe you could get one of your friends interested.’

  ‘Craig, please.�
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  ‘Look, Teddy. The thing is I need some cash. Someone I know, a journalist, he says he could pay me quite a lot of money. A human-interest story, he calls it. Says I’d make a very good subject. Plenty of colour, if you know what I mean. Well, I told him, I’m not going to rat on my friends, am I? I wouldn’t do a thing like that, would I Teddy? Not unless I was really desperate.’

  ‘How much do you want?’

  ‘Five hundred pounds.’

  ‘And that would be the end of it?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Look, I’ll need some time to get the money.’

  ‘Of course, Teddy. There’s no hurry. I’ll give you till the end of the week.’

  Wednesday, 11 May

  Went to see Harry about the Craig business. I didn’t know what else to do. He was in an ugly mood. Worried about the Nigeria project. He’d heard nothing for weeks & is seething with suspicions of treachery. He’s not the most well tempered of men, I must say. And there are rumours of psychopathic tendencies.

  I finally got around to mention C.’s blackmail & I really wish I hadn’t. Harry went into barely controlled rage.

  ‘I thought I told that little slag to lay off,’ he spat out, pacing about his flat. ‘Well he’s asking for it now.’

  I tried to placate him.

  ‘Maybe just a warning,’ I suggested.

  ‘He’s had his fucking warning. You leave this to me. You won’t have to worry about that little fucker.’

  Then he returned to his brooding & I made my excuses & crept out.

  Friday, 14 May

  Went to White’s. Saw Evelyn Waugh there, looking grim in a loud dogcheck suit. I asked how he was. ‘Toothless and melancholic,’ was his reply. He had all his teeth removed apparently & dentures have proved v. unsatisfactory. ‘These false snappers ruin my appetite for solid food,’ he said, looking like he was compensating with liquid intake. He appeared utterly desperate. ‘I’m a wreck, Teddy,’ he told me. ‘I hardly sleep though I’m full of dope. I get up late, try to read my letters, have some gin, try to read the paper, have some more gin. Then it’s lunch time.’ He gave a ghastly smile, his mouth an empty rictus. Eyes cold, unblinking, vigilant.