The Talisman

by Lynda La Plante

  Edward continued to work at the pace he had set himself, day in, day out. He was at the office from seven in the morning until after nine at night. He was aware of Alex’s change of attitude – he listened attentively, never argued, and carried out Edward’s commands with precision.

  Edward’s own businesses, his private deals and the bribes were for his eyes only, no one else ever knew what he was doing. Walter was still proving troublesome, and even though he had made his fortune from Edward’s backhanders he wanted more. His political career was taking off. He was in the public eye, and he lived well, spending many evenings at the house in Notting Hill Gate.

  Once again Edward would use his ‘hit list’, his old blackmail tricks. Allard was easy to keep silenced and in line. He was still employed by Lloyd’s, but now in a higher position, he would never want it known about his payoffs. Edward worked behind the scenes, and Henry Blackwell was taken aback to discover exactly which family he had unwittingly married into. When he had met Annabelle Barkley he had been totally unaware of her connection with Edward Stubbs, the student he had known at Cambridge. He had kept his secret, and was now even more desperate to keep his past relationship with Allard quiet, not only for the sake of his rich young wife, but there was also his political career to consider. He was treading the same dangerous ground as Walter, accepting money from Edward in the same way. In return, he leaked crucial information on companies just before they went public, enabling Edward to buy in at just the right time. Edward’s move into the City was rapid, and caused a storm; within months he became a force to be reckoned with. Once again the Barkley Company was rearing its head as a formidable power.

  Alex was unaware of how Edward was able to secure so many intros into the City in such a short time. He settled down, obeying his brother’s instructions. Edward only allowed Alex access to certain accounts, and just as long as he kept in line, behaved himself, Edward would carry him along. Their nets spread, the brothers moved upwards yet again, becoming accepted in every social circle. They were pillars of society, and the more respect they gained, the more financially secure they grew.

  Once the company was ticking over smoothly again the Barkley Company was stronger than ever, and Alex didn’t question Edward’s decisions because it was Alex who enjoyed the fame, received the glory. In the society columns they always tagged the word ‘tycoon’ to his name. It was as if he had won himself a title, and confirmed that he had arrived.

  To the outside world he might be ‘Mr Tycoon’, but in the office he was still under Edward’s thumb.

  Edward buzzed to ask Alex to go in, and tossed him a first-class air ticket. ‘I want you on the first plane to New York – I want this Ming affair settled once and for all. If you can’t handle it, telex me – but try, Alex. All you’ve got to do is read through all these notes I’ve prepared for you and that’s it, all right?’

  Alex nodded and picked up the papers. He walked out, shutting the door quietly behind him. The higher they rose, the more delight Edward took in treating him like a clerk. If Alex protested he was told that he got the publicity, he was the Barkley tycoon, and if he wanted to keep it that way there had better be no arguments.

  Alex and Ming were like strangers. She was very cool and restrained. They had not met since his marriage to Barbara, and Alex knew he would have to broach the subject sooner or later. He ordered dinner in his room, feeling it would be easier to talk there, in privacy, than in a restaurant. He tried to relax, but he was tense, ill at ease. She looked stunningly beautiful, and gave him her familiar bow rather than shake his hand or kiss his cheek.

  Her obvious refusal to acknowledge their previous relationship made it somehow easier to raise his reason for the meeting. ‘I’ll come straight to the point – Edward wants to issue a writ on your company for a complete audit of your accounts. If it should go through you’ll be hit hard for tax evasion – he knows you’ve been “creaming” – but as long as he gets the lion’s share he’ll be happy. He also wants a progress report on the deal with Japan.’

  Ming sat demurely, waiting for Alex to finish, then she smiled. ‘You know, you begin to sound like him.’

  A waiter tapped on the door and wheeled a trolley in. Ming fell silent while he set the table. She was very much aware of the change in Alex – he looked far more handsome, with a slight greyness at the temples. He was immaculately dressed and exuded sophistication, a man of the world, with a confidence he had previously lacked. She was impressed.

  Alex indicated a seat for her, dismissed the waiter and served the dinner himself. Ming watched his deft, quick movements, the way he tossed the salad. He was so different from Edward, and yet she detected a similar quality she had been unaware of when they had first met. The brothers were growing more alike.

  ‘I asked Edward if he would allow me to buy him out, I have completed all the contracts in South Africa, plus two more in Mexico, I am sure you know all about them . . . But I no longer wish to work for you, and again I offer to buy out your percentage in my company. I will double my first offer.’

  Alex tried to cover his confusion, but Ming had found that tiny chink in his armour and set to work, laughing softly. ‘Well, it appears Edward is still up to his old tricks . . . I thought you were partners.’ She began listing building companies, businesses he had no knowledge of.

  Alex couldn’t eat, he felt sick. Just as he had begun to trust his brother, just as things were going smoothly, the water rippled and then giant waves swept over him . . .

  ‘I want Edward out of my company. I have not, as he suspected, been given the contract for Japan, they do not want a third party involved . . . Alex, is there any way we can work this together, exclude Edward?’

  Jinks was operated on. Edward and Harriet brought her home with her little glasses on, one lens covered with sticking-plaster. She was so good, she hardly cried, but Harriet had made up for that as they waited outside the operating theatre. She had sobbed and sobbed, and although Edward tried hard to comfort her it was obvious that he was as upset as she was. Seeing their little daughter unconscious on the theatre trolley had touched them both.

  They bought special gifts for Jinks, including a musical box. She was very careful with all her toys, keeping them neatly laid out in the cupboard, and she took a long time unwrapping each one, holding her head at an awkward angle so she could see clearly.

  Jinks’ hair was very thick, and she wore it in pigtails – one always higher than the other as Harriet usually plaited it for her. It gave her a strange, lopsided effect which was not improved by her new glasses. She had a gruff voice which always made them laugh as she sounded like an elderly gin-sodden lady.

  Edward was forever watchful over Harriet, worried that the stress of Jinks’ operation might take her near the edge. He persuaded himself that that was why he was feeling so pent up: he felt bound to the house, to his wife. His old wanderlust returned and, bored, he began venting his frustration at work, taking on more and more deals, buying and selling, anything to occupy his mind. So much attention was paid to Harriet’s condition that Edward’s feelings were often swept aside. Only Dewint, whose loving care had been the mainstay of the household for so many years, could feel the undercurrent and waited with trepidation. Dewint knew Edward was drinking heavily, and he suggested that perhaps Harriet and Jinks should go to the country, to Haverley Hall, for a short holiday.

  If Harriet was aware of Edward’s drinking she said nothing, she was so wrapped up in her new role of motherhood. She agreed that Jinks would benefit from some fresh air, and proceeded to pack. Edward drove them both to the station, and as he watched the train pulling out of the station, his daughter’s face pressed against the window as she waved goodbye, his depression deepened. He couldn’t really understand himself why his moods changed so radically and why, whenever he felt content, felt that life was good, something inside him, like a sickness, made him try to destroy that happiness. He caused mayhem when he returned to the office that morning; he was
already drunk, his behaviour erratic. He screamed instructions to Miss Henderson and made her wish for Alex to return to regain some semblance of order.

  Alex did not return for a week as he had been in Mexico trying to decipher the companies that Edward had, without a word to him – his so-called partner – been running for years. Miss Henderson was more than relieved to see him. She was close to tears and she showed him the bedlam created by Edward: his manic instructions, his new shares and business transactions were a confused mess of papers. Alex listened, his fury mounting at the destructive and foolish deals his brother had begun and left half finished.

  ‘You’d better give me the keys to his office, Miss Henderson. God knows what else he has got us involved in.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, I don’t have a spare set, no one does . . .’

  ‘Well, if that’s the case, I’d better go and find him. Is he at home?’

  ‘I don’t know. I can call the manor, if you wish.’

  ‘Don’t bother, I’ll go personally. Make a list of all these new transactions and leave them on my desk.’

  Dewint opened the front door, and looked aghast as Alex stepped in. ‘I’m afraid, sah, Mr Edward . . . he has company, sah.’ He told Alex that Harriet and Jinks had gone off to spend a few weeks in Yorkshire. But Alex would not be put off.

  ‘Tell him I am here, would you, Dewint, and I have no intention of leaving.’

  Alex looked into the lounge; the room was a mess. Bottles were strewn everywhere, dirty glasses. From somewhere in the house he could hear music. Then he heard Edward’s voice, shouting, telling Dewint he didn’t want to see anyone. Alex strolled back to the hall door and saw two scruffy tarts being hustled out by Dewint. He sighed, about to turn away, then froze.

  Edward appeared, unshaven, his eyes red-rimmed. Alex could smell him a mile off, and he was reeling drunk. He started shouting, incoherently, then slumped on to the sofa. Alex calmed him down and tried to talk to him, begging him to rest. He was sure Edward was an alcoholic, but he just could not fathom out what had caused the change. He seemed hell-bent on destroying everything they had built up.

  ‘Why, Edward, in God’s name, what is the matter with you? Just as everything is going so well . . . Are you ill? Is that what all this is about?’

  Edward stared at him without replying, then began to pick up empty bottles.

  ‘You need a doctor? You carry on this way you will destroy everything we’ve built up together.’

  ‘Together? Don’t be so fucking crass, you an’ me aren’t together, you line your own pockets like every other bastard I come into contact with . . . fuck off, leave me alone!’

  Alex sat down, tried to keep his voice calm. He played for time, his mind reeling, wondering what Edward had discovered. ‘Maybe that’s your fault . . . you see, every time I think I can trust you, I find out something that makes me more wary of you than ever . . . what the hell have you got going in South Africa?’

  Edward sneered at him, poured himself another drink. ‘Whatever I’ve got going keeps you out of the shit, so why worry . . . I’ll go to prison, not you, haw haw haw.’

  Alex wanted to shake him, hit him, but he gritted his teeth and tried once more to discover what Edward was working on in South Africa. ‘Is it legal, just tell me . . .?’

  Edward laughed, a boozed, humourless laugh. Then he switched on the stereo so loud that it was pointless to continue.

  He watched Edward as he moved around the room, trying to dance to the music. It was pitiful. Alex closed the door and switched off the stereo as the music ended, determined to talk things through. Edward smiled at him, fumbled in his pocket. ‘Look, I’ve been making out my will. You get the lion’s share, on condition you take care of Harry and Jinks. Christ, look, I’ll come clean – I am bored, understand? I am so bored, and . . . and I packed them off to Yorkshire. I’m thinking of upping and leaving, you know . . . Oh, you won’t understand, I get these feelings inside of me and . . . I feel trapped here, I’m trapped.’

  Alex read the will. Sure enough, Edward had left him everything apart from some legacies to Harriet and Jinks. He looked up as Edward poured himself another drink. ‘Here, take it back. And if you want some advice, grow up. You’ve been a selfish bastard all your life – just for a change, think about Harry, about Jinks, and what they’d do without you.’

  ‘Think about them? Jesus Christ, I spend my whole life worrying about her and the kid . . . Well, I can’t take it, it’s like living with a bloody time-bomb – I never know when she’s going to blow. Have you any idea what it’s like . . .’

  ‘Getting yourself drunk won’t help matters. Maybe you should take a holiday, you’ve pushed yourself to breaking point. You can’t be an easy man to live with, Edward, and, well, you’ve got your daughter to think of . . .’

  Edward drained his glass. ‘Yeah, little Four-eyes. She’s so damned well behaved, so quiet, she’s like a fucking mouse. Even the nanny creeps about like a fucking nervous cow.’

  Edward leaned back on the sofa, turned his bleary eyes to his brother and, out of the blue, asked about Evelyn. Alex shrugged and said he hadn’t seen much of him lately as he had only just returned from New York.

  ‘He a good little chap, is he?’

  Sighing, Alex replied that he was a bit of a handful, and they were unable to keep a nanny for more than a few months. Edward stared sullenly into the fire and hurled his glass, shattering it on the tiles. ‘I’m going out, fancy a night out?’

  ‘No, I’m on my way home, and if I were you I’d get to bed, sleep it off.’

  Edward began to swear to himself, and he didn’t even notice when Alex walked out.

  On the back seat of Alex’s car lay the tell-tale newspapers, and he picked one up. It showed a picture of the ‘tycoon’s brother’, drunk and being thrown out of Tramps nightclub. Alex swore and waved his hand for the chauffeur to drive away. ‘Go on, drink yourself to death, you bastard, and the sooner the better.’

  Edward continued drinking, and by daybreak his initial mood of despondency had switched to belligerence. He decided to wipe out all the men he knew were waiting with their hands out for the payoffs, for his bribes. He wanted to destroy them, they were making him sick, making him drink, the vultures . . . Well, he would get rid of them all, start with a clean slate . . . And last, but not least, on his list was his brother. He had plans for Alex – he would take Evelyn from him. The boy was his, Evelyn was Edward’s son.

  He weaved out of the room, clutching the banisters to help him climb the stairs. Dewint, coming out of the kitchen, looked up in horror, Edward’s face was unshaven, his eyes unfocused. There was a helplessness about him that was heart-breaking. Dewint hurried up the stairs . . .

  ‘You’d best lie down, sah. Here, let me give you a hand.’

  Dewint buckled at the knees as Edward put his arm around his shoulder, and leaned heavily against him. Together they swerved like dancers to the master bedroom.

  ‘You are a good chap, Dewint, good chap. You think you could get me cleaned up a bit? Old hands shaking and I don’t want to cut my throat, though there are many who would love it if I did.’

  Dewint swished the shaving brush round the bowl, and gently soaped Edward’s face. He was propped up in bed, his eyes vacant, staring ahead.

  ‘What if I were to run you a nice bath, sah?’

  ‘Thank you. You’re a good chap, Dewint.’

  He busied himself running the water in the big porcelain tub, laying out the fresh sheet-sized bath towels. When he returned to the bedside Edward had not moved. He was weeping soundlessly, tears streaming down his face. As Dewint made quietly to leave the room, Edward reached for him.

  ‘Just sit with me for a while, old fella, I’m in a bit of a mess . . . need a bit of company, need . . .’ Edward wept, holding tightly to Dewint’s hand . . . twice he tried to stop the tears, giving Dewint a sad half smile and a little shrug of his shoulders. But the tears continued. The bath water grew cold as they sat,
Dewint not knowing what to do to comfort Edward. Suddenly Edward lifted Dewint’s hand to his lips and kissed it . . . whispering so softly that it was hardly audible . . .

  ‘Thank you. I’m all right now . . . I’m all right now.’

  And it was over. Abruptly Edward reached for the telephone. He dialled a number and waited. He turned to Dewint . . .

  ‘Top up the bath and lay some clean clothes out. Then you’d better fix me something to eat – omelette, one of your specials, okay? Hello? It’s me!’

  Dewint sprang into action as Edward was stripping off his shirt, talking to Miss Henderson at the office. Gone was any sign of emotional turmoil, instead he was sharp and abrupt.

  ‘Alex was round asking about South Africa; fend him off, Henny. I don’t want anything to do with my business out there getting into Alex’s hands. Tell him anything, but make sure he sees nothing . . . that includes telexes, cables and any reference to Skye Duval. I’ll leave it to you then and, Henny, this is important to me, understand? Good girl. I’m fine. Yes, I’m fine.’

  After his bath Edward sat eating hungrily as Dewint kept up a steady refill of piping hot coffee. Edward ploughed his way through a stack of old newspapers, flicking over the articles that referred to himself. There was no hint of the man who had sat weeping, but Dewint knew, more than anyone else, that Edward was cursed with a consuming despair. A despair that he seemed to try to reach out to, as if he craved to be punished, for what Dewint couldn’t even contemplate. What impressed him was the way Edward fought back . . . He loved this man, admired him, and yet was always, would always, be a little frightened of him. Edward caught Dewint watching him as he checked over his appearance in the hall mirror. He gave his extraordinary wolfish and yet boyish smile as he said softly, ‘He’s mine, and I am going to get him. Clear the place up will you? I shouldn’t be too long . . .’