‘I went to see Elizabeth in hospital most evenings. My final visit took place on what turned out to be the last night of her life.’
‘You were alone with her?’
‘Yes, sir. Her daughter Grace had just left.’
‘Please tell the court what happened.’
‘Elizabeth told me that earlier in the day she’d had a visit from her solicitor, Mr Siddons, and had signed a new will.’
‘We’re talking about the evening of Thursday July twenty-sixth?’
‘Yes, sir, just a few hours before Elizabeth died.’
‘Could you tell the court what else happened during that visit?’
‘She surprised me by taking a sealed envelope from under her pillow which she gave me for safe keeping.’
‘Did she explain why she was giving it to you?’
‘She only said that if Giles were to contest her new will, I was to hand the letter to the judge selected to preside over the case.’
‘Did she give you any other instructions?’
‘She said I was not to open the envelope or to let Giles or my wife know of its existence.’
‘And if Sir Giles did not contest the will?’
‘I was to destroy it, with the same instructions not to reveal it had ever existed.’
‘So you have no idea what is in this envelope, Mr Clifton?’ said the judge, holding it up.
‘None whatsoever.’
‘And we’re expected to believe that,’ said Virginia, loud enough for everyone to hear.
‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ said the judge, ignoring the interruption. ‘I have no more questions for you, Mr Clifton. Mr Todd?’
‘Thank you, m’lud,’ said Mr Todd, rising from his place. ‘You told his lordship, Mr Clifton, that Lady Barrington said she’d written a new will. Did she give you any reason why she had done so?’
‘There’s no doubt in my mind that Elizabeth loved her son, but she told me she feared if he were to marry that dreadful woman Lady Virginia—’
‘M’lud,’ said Sir Cuthbert, leaping up from his place. ‘This is hearsay, and clearly inadmissible.’
‘I agree. It will be struck from the record.’
‘But, m’lud,’ intervened Mr Todd, ‘the fact that Lady Barrington left her Siamese cat, Cleopatra, to Lady Virginia rather suggests—’
‘You have made your point, Mr Todd,’ said the judge. ‘Sir Cuthbert, do you have any questions for this witness?’
‘Only one, m’lud.’ Looking directly at Harry, Sir Cuthbert asked, ‘Were you a beneficiary of the earlier will?’
‘No, sir, I was not.’
‘I have no more questions for Mr Clifton, m’lud. But I would beg the court’s indulgence and ask that before you decide whether or not the letter should be opened, I might be allowed to call one witness.’
‘Who do you have in mind, Sir Cuthbert?’ enquired the judge.
‘The person who stands to lose the most should your judgment go against him, namely Sir Giles Barrington.’
‘I have no objection, assuming Mr Todd is in agreement.’
‘I welcome it,’ said Todd, aware that nothing would be gained by objecting.
Giles made his way slowly to the witness box, and delivered the oath as if he was addressing the House of Commons. Sir Cuthbert greeted him with a warm smile.
‘For the record, will you please state your name and occupation?’
‘Sir Giles Barrington, Member of Parliament for Bristol Docklands.’
‘And when did you last see your mother?’ asked Sir Cuthbert.
The judge smiled.
‘I visited her on the morning of the day she died.’
‘Did she make any mention of the fact that she had changed her will?’
‘None whatsoever.’
‘So when you left her, you were under the impression that there was only one will, the one you had discussed with her in great detail over a year before?’
‘Frankly, Sir Cuthbert, my mother’s will was the last thing on my mind at that particular moment.’
‘Quite so. But I do need to ask in what state of health you found your mother that morning.’
‘She was very weak. Barely a word passed between us during the hour I spent with her.’
‘So it must have come as a surprise to learn that shortly after you had left, she put her signature to a complex document some thirty-six pages in length.’
‘I found it inconceivable,’ said Giles, ‘and still do.’
‘Did you love your mother, Sir Giles?’
‘I adored her. She was the family’s rock. I only wish she was still with us, so this whole sorry business need never have arisen.’
‘Thank you, Sir Giles. Please stay there, as Mr Todd may wish to question you.’
‘I fear I might have to take the odd risk,’ Todd whispered to Siddons before he stood to address the witness. ‘Sir Giles, let me start by asking if you have any objection to his lordship opening the envelope that is addressed to him?’
‘Of course he does!’ said Virginia.
‘I have no objection to the letter being opened,’ said Giles, ignoring his wife. ‘If it was written on the day of my mother’s death, it will surely show that she was incapable of signing a document as important as a will. And if it was written before July the twenty-sixth, it is unlikely to be of any significance.’
‘Does that mean that you accept Mr Clifton’s account of what took place after you’d seen your mother for the last time?’
‘No, it most certainly does not,’ said Virginia.
‘Madam, you will desist from these interjections,’ said the judge, glaring down at her. ‘If you offer any further opinions, other than from the witness box, I shall have no choice but to have you removed from the court. Do I make myself clear?’
Virginia bowed her head, which Mr Justice Cameron considered was about as much as he was going to get from that particular lady.
‘Mr Todd, you may repeat your question.’
‘There’s no need for that, m’lud,’ said Giles. ‘If Harry says my mother handed him the letter that night, then that’s what happened.’
‘Thank you, Sir Giles. I have no further questions.’
The judge asked both counsel to rise. ‘Following Sir Giles Barrington’s evidence, if there are no objections, it is my intention to open the envelope.’
Both counsel nodded, aware that if they did object, it would only leave grounds for an appeal. In any case, neither believed there was a judge in the land who wouldn’t dismiss any objection to the envelope being opened.
Mr Justice Cameron held up the envelope so that everyone in court could see it clearly. He slit it open and pulled out a single sheet of paper which he placed on the desk in front of him. He read it three times before he spoke.
‘Mr Siddons,’ he said finally.
The Barrington family solicitor rose nervously from his place.
‘Can you tell me the date and the precise time that Lady Barrington died?’
Siddons shuffled through some papers before he found the document he was looking for. He looked up at the judge and said, ‘I can confirm, sir, that the death certificate was signed at ten twenty-six p.m. on Thursday the twenty-sixth of July, 1951.’
‘I am obliged, Mr Siddons. I shall now retire to my chambers to consider the significance of this piece of evidence. The court will adjourn for half an hour.’
‘It didn’t look like a letter to me,’ said Emma as their little group, heads down, gathered in a huddle. ‘More like an official document. Did she sign anything else that day, Mr Siddons?’
Siddons shook his head. ‘Not in my presence she didn’t. Any ideas, Mr Todd?’
‘It was very thin. It might have been a newspaper cutting, but at that distance I couldn’t be sure.’
‘Why ever did you allow the judge to open the letter, Giles?’ Virginia hissed from the other side of the courtroom.
‘Given the circumstances, Lady Virginia, your husba
nd had little choice,’ said Sir Cuthbert. ‘Although I believe we had the case wrapped up until that last-minute intervention.’
‘What can the judge be doing?’ asked Emma, unable to mask how nervous she was.
Harry took his wife’s hand. ‘It won’t be long now, darling.’
‘If the judgment goes against us,’ said Virginia, ‘can we still claim that whatever was in the envelope is inadmissible?’
‘I can’t answer that question,’ said Sir Cuthbert, ‘until I’ve had a chance to study it. The contents might well prove that your husband was correct in suggesting that his mother was in no fit state to sign an important legal document during the final hours of her life, in which case it will be the other side who will have to decide whether or not to appeal.’
Both parties were still heads down, whispering in their respective corners, like boxers waiting for the bell to release them for the final round, when the door behind the judge’s chair opened and the referee reappeared.
Everyone in court stood and bowed before Mr Justice Cameron resumed his place in the high-backed chair. He stared down at a dozen expectant faces.
‘I have now had the opportunity to study the contents of the envelope.’ Everyone’s eyes remained fixed on him. ‘I was fascinated to discover that Lady Barrington and I share a hobby, although I confess she was a far more accomplished exponent than I am, because on Thursday the twenty-sixth of July, she completed The Times crossword puzzle, leaving only one clue blank, which I have no doubt she did in order to prove her point. The reason I found it necessary to leave you was that I needed to visit the library in order to get hold of a copy of The Times for the following day, Friday July the twenty-seventh – the day after Lady Barrington died. I wanted to check if she had made any mistakes in the previous day’s crossword puzzle, which she hadn’t, and to confirm the answer to the one clue she’d left blank. Having done so, I am in no doubt that Lady Barrington was not only capable of signing a will, but was well aware of the significance of its contents. I am therefore ready to pass judgment in this case.’
Sir Cuthbert was quickly on his feet. ‘M’lud, I am curious to know, what was the missing clue that helped you reach your judgment?’
Mr Justice Cameron looked down at the crossword puzzle. Twelve across, six and six, common pests I confused when in my right mind.’
Sir Cuthbert bowed, and a smile crossed Harry’s face.
‘I therefore find in the case of Barrington versus Clifton and Barrington, in favour of Mrs Harold Clifton and Miss Grace Barrington.’
‘We must appeal,’ said Virginia, as Sir Cuthbert and Mr Todd bowed low.
‘I shall not be appealing,’ said Giles. ‘Even my Latin is up to that.’
‘You were pathetic,’ said Virginia as she stormed out of the courtroom.
‘But Harry is my oldest friend,’ Giles said, chasing after her.
‘And I’m your wife, just in case you’ve forgotten.’ Virginia pushed her way through the swing doors and hurried out on to the Strand.
‘But what else could I have done, given the circumstances?’ he asked once he’d caught up with her.
‘You could have fought tooth and nail for what was rightly ours, as you promised you would,’ she reminded him before hailing a cab.
‘But isn’t it possible that the judge was right when he said my mother knew exactly what she was doing?’
‘If you believe that, Giles,’ said Virginia, turning to face him, ‘you obviously hold the same low opinion of me that she did.’
Giles was left speechless as a taxi drew up. Virginia opened the door, climbed in and wound down the window.
‘I’m going to stay with my mother for a few days. If you haven’t lodged an appeal by the time I get back, I suggest you seek advice from a solicitor who specializes in divorce.’
15
THERE WAS A firm rap on the front door. Giles checked his watch: 7.20 p.m. Who could it possibly be? He hadn’t invited anyone for dinner, and he wasn’t expected back at the House to hear the closing speeches until nine. A second rap, equally firm, and he remembered it was the housekeeper’s night off. He placed yesterday’s copy of Hansard on the side table, pushed himself up out of his chair and was heading towards the corridor when there was a third rap.
‘Hold your horses,’ Giles said. He pulled open the door to find the last person he would have expected standing on his doorstep in Smith Square.
‘Grace?’ he said, unable to mask his surprise.
‘It’s a relief to discover you still remember my name,’ said his sister as she stepped inside.
Giles tried to think of an equally sharp rejoinder, but as he hadn’t been in touch with his sister since the day of his mother’s funeral, he had to accept that her barbed remark was justified. In truth, he hadn’t been in contact with any of the family since Virginia had stormed out of the courtroom and left him standing on the pavement outside.
‘What brings you to London, Grace?’ he asked rather feebly, as he led his sister down the corridor and into the drawing room.
‘You,’ she replied. ‘If Mohammed, etcetera.’
‘Can I get you a drink?’ he asked, still wondering what she could possibly want, unless . . .
‘Thanks, a dry sherry would go down well, after that ghastly train journey.’
Giles walked across to the sideboard and poured her a sherry, and a half tumbler of whisky for himself, as he desperately searched for something to say. ‘I’ve got a vote at ten,’ he eventually managed, passing Grace her drink. His younger sister always made him feel like a naughty schoolboy who’d been caught smoking by the headmaster.
‘That will be more than enough time for what I have to say.’
‘Have you come to claim your birthright and throw me out of the house?’
‘No, you chump, I’ve come to try and knock some common sense into that thick skull of yours.’
Giles collapsed into his chair and took a sip of whisky. ‘I’m all ears.’
‘It will be my thirtieth birthday next week, not that you would have noticed.’
‘And you’ve come all this way just to tell me what present you want?’ Giles said, trying to lighten the mood.
‘Exactly that,’ said Grace, taking him by surprise for a second time.
‘And what did you have in mind?’ Giles felt he was still on the back foot.
‘I want you to come to my party.’
‘But the House is in session, and since I’ve been promoted to the front bench, I’m expected—’
‘Harry and Emma will be there,’ said Grace, ignoring his excuses, ‘so it will be just like old times.’
Giles took another gulp of whisky. ‘It can never be like old times.’
‘Of course it can, you fool, because you’re the only person who’s preventing it.’
‘They want to see me?’
‘Why wouldn’t they?’ said Grace. ‘This stupid feud has gone on long enough, which is why I intend to bang all your heads together before it’s too late.’
‘Who else will be there?’
‘Sebastian and Jessica, a few friends, mainly academics, but you don’t have to talk to them, except perhaps your old friend Deakins. However,’ she added, ‘there’s one person I won’t be inviting. By the way, where is the bitch?’
Giles had thought there was nothing his sister could ever say that would shock him. How wrong he was.
‘I’ve no idea,’ he eventually managed. ‘She hasn’t been in contact with me for over a year. But if you believe the Daily Express, she’s currently to be found in St Tropez on the arm of an Italian count.’
‘I’m sure they’ll make a delightful couple. More important, it gives you grounds for divorce.’
‘I could never divorce Virginia, even if I wanted to. Don’t forget what Mama went through. Not an experience I care to repeat.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Grace. ‘It’s all right for Virginia to be gallivanting around the South of France with her Italian lover
, but it’s not all right for her husband to want a divorce?’
‘You may mock,’ said Giles, ‘but that isn’t the way a gentleman behaves.’
‘Don’t make me laugh. It was hardly the act of a gentleman to drag me and Emma through the courts over Mother’s will.’
‘That’s below the belt,’ said Giles as he took another large gulp of whisky. ‘But I suppose it’s no more than I deserved,’ he added, ‘and it’s something I’ll regret for the rest of my life. Will you ever forgive me?’
‘I will if you come to my party, and apologize to your sister and your oldest friend for being such a chump.’
‘I’m not sure I can face them.’
‘You faced a battery of German soldiers with nothing more than a few hand grenades and a pistol to protect you.’
‘And I’d do it again if I thought it would convince Emma and Harry to forgive me.’
Grace stood up, walked across the room and knelt down beside her brother. ‘Of course they’ll forgive you, you silly oaf.’ Giles bowed his head when his sister put her arms around him. ‘You know only too well that Mother wouldn’t have wanted us to be kept apart because of that woman.’
As Giles drove past a signpost directing him to Cambridge, he thought it still wasn’t too late to turn back, although he knew that if he did, he might never be given a second chance.
As he entered the university city, he could feel the collegiate atmosphere all around him. Young men and women in academic gowns of varying lengths were rushing in every direction. It brought back memories of his time at Oxford, cut short by Herr Hitler.
When Giles had found his way back to England five years later, having escaped from a prisoner-of-war camp, the principal of Brasenose had offered him the chance to return to his old college and complete his degree. But by then he was a 25-year-old battle-scarred veteran, and felt the moment had passed, as it had for so many young men of his generation, Harry included. In any case, the opportunity to fight another battle had arisen, and he couldn’t resist the challenge of sparring for a place on the green benches of the House of Commons. No regrets, thought Giles. Well, there were always some regrets.
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