‘Harvey will never be able to handle that one. Nice guy when you get to know him, but I don’t think he was ever sixteen.’ He paused. ‘You know, you’re a bloody good uncle; make sure you’re as good a dad.’
‘Susie says I’m doing all right.’ I changed the subject. ‘Speaking of my brother-in-law, he’s invited me to lunch tomorrow, in the New Club.’
‘That’s a bit daring on his part. I didn’t think they let actors in there. What’s that about?’
‘I don’t think it’s about anything other than being friendly.’
‘Nah, son, Harvey being friendly is him taking you for a pint or, rather, you taking him but him insisting on buying. When he invited me to the New Club it was to ask me if it was okay to marry Ellie.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘A major-occasion venue, is it? What could that be? You don’t think my sister’s up the duff, do you?’
‘What was that?’ Ellie barked, from the doorway.
10
Happily she found the idea laughable. It was also inconceivable (a nice play on words, if I may say so): I had forgotten that after Colin’s birth her marriage had been in such a sad and sorry state that she had decided to have herself sterilised. She had suggested to Alan Sinclair, her first husband, that he might have a vasectomy but he had chickened out.
When she developed an infection after the procedure and became pretty seriously ill, I offered to vasectomise him myself, with the garden shears. I’d never liked Alan, but that incident pretty much put an end to our relationship. When Ellie decided to bin the tosser, I couldn’t have been happier.
Harvey January was a different sort altogether. My dad and I had raised four eyebrows between us when he first appeared on the scene. He’s a lawyer, and not just any old lawyer but a Queen’s Counsel, so we were concerned that she had picked on another work-obsessed, boring stuffed shirt just like Mr Sinclair. When we spent some time getting to know him, we found we were wrong. Harvey’s actually a shy bloke for a lawyer. (I know, I didn’t think it was possible, either.) But he’s in no way boring, and his shirt doesn’t have anything in it but himself; he wears tee-shirts on Sundays just like the rest of us. Learning to play golf, on my advice (or at last taking the game up: it will be a long learning curve for him) was the clincher. My dad takes the view that all golfers are inherently okay; I don’t agree with that, but it got Harvey’s feet well under Mac the Dentist’s table. It worked with his potential step-sons too: Jonny takes a certain unspoken pleasure from giving a QC a shot a hole. . including the par threes. . and still taking a golf ball a round off him, while Colin’s chuffed that he doesn’t get any shots when they play. (That won’t last long, though: Colin’s an improver and he’s passing him by.) To top it all off, he loves my sister and lavishes attention, and as much money as she will allow, upon her.
My dad was right about the New Club invitation, though: very strange that he should choose to take me, an actor, of all people, brother-in-law or not, to one of the most formal settings in Edinburgh. I’d been there once before, a guest at a reception organised by Clark Gow: no, that’s not a person, it’s an accountancy firm. They’re our tax advisers, Susie’s and mine, and one of their Scottish partners is a member. It’s located in a reasonably modern, if formidably ugly, building on Princes Street, but that has nothing to do with the name. That goes back, I suppose, to the days in the eighteenth century when it really was new. Most of contemporary Edinburgh doesn’t know that it’s there, but that doesn’t matter, because most of contemporary Edinburgh wouldn’t aspire to membership. (To be honest, my impression is that if they did, they wouldn’t have a cat’s chance in hell.)
At the appointed hour, twelve thirty, I pressed the buzzer at the anonymous, unimpressive door (it cost me a quid, dropped in the can of the beggar over whom I had to step to reach it), announced myself as a guest of Mr January, and was admitted. (Actually it had cost me more than that quid. When I had left Monaco I’d travelled light, so I’d had to visit Edinburgh’s other Harvey, Nichols, to pick up some appropriate clothing. It wouldn’t have done for me to embarrass my brother-in-law.)
He was waiting for me in the foyer when I reached the top of the stair, in the three-piece outfit that is the advocate’s uniform. He wore a striped shirt, his badge of professional rank. It’s true: in that historic but strange institution, the Faculty of Advocates, junior counsel traditionally have worn plain shirts while seniors have always worn stripes. It’s all changing, of course, as more and more women reach QC status. (Those who swore that such a thing would only happen over their dead bodies have all now passed on to that state. I wonder if they look up as the black high heels step over them: bet they do, the dirty old sods.)
He walked me through to the lounge for a pre-lunch drink, which in my case was a John Panton. . ginger beer and lime with a dash of angostura, named after the famous golfer who’s credited with inventing it. Harvey had a La Ina sherry, chilled.
We made small-talk for a while as we looked out of the picture window, across Princes Street to the castle, its skyline altered by the scaffolding stands that would seat the crowds at the following month’s military tattoo. Harvey was as relieved as the rest of us at my dad’s progress, and as pleased when I told him about Carol Salt’s installation as locum, and about Mac the Dentist’s agreement to become just plain Mac for the rest of his days.
I found myself asking him how he was settling into fatherhood or, at least, the step variety.
‘I’m astonished,’ he confessed, ‘how much I’m enjoying it. There was never any prospect of children in my first marriage. I was too busy, and my wife had other priorities in her life. I know I’ve missed a large chunk of it, the early years, but at any stage it’s great to watch children and become a part of their lives.’
‘Better not let Jonny hear you call him a child,’ I advised him. ‘He thinks of himself as an adult, these days.’
‘He’s starting to behave like it too. Between you and me, his mother’s becoming a bit concerned that he should be properly prepared for manhood, and the responsibility that it brings with it: duty of care and all that, you know what I mean. With his girl-friend being seventeen, Ellen thinks I should. .’
I had to laugh. ‘Harvey, all due respect, but I can’t think of anyone less qualified for that task. Tell Ellie not to worry, the job’s done.’
He looked at me gratefully. ‘Thanks, Oz. I should have known, for that lad worships the ground you walk on.’
It’s true that there’s a special bond between Jonny and me, but I try to discourage worship. After all, I’m a bit of a false god, as you know. ‘Don’t underrate your own influence on him, Harvey. He asked me what I think of the law as a profession.’
‘I know. We’ve discussed it: he told me that you approve of the idea.’
I shrugged and grinned at him. ‘I don’t like to lie to my nephew, but in the circumstances. .’ Harvey’s face fell. ‘Joke!’ I called out. I like him, but I’ll never take him to a stand-up comedy club.
‘Good,’ he said, rising to his feet, ‘because I’ve spoken to a couple of friends of mine at Edinburgh University, and to the director of training at the Faculty of Advocates. They’ve all agreed to give him a preview of what it will involve.’
‘Fine, but just remember, he is only sixteen, so don’t be too disappointed if he turns round next year and says he wants to be a zoologist, or a golf pro or something equally bizarre.’
‘Or an actor?’
‘That’s an ambition I will definitely not encourage. My business is full of crazy people.’
Harvey chuckled as he led me into the dining room. ‘So’s mine: usually we call them clients.’ I began to rethink the idea of a night at the stand-up club.
The lunch wasn’t nouvelle cuisine, but that was okay with me: I was brought up on Scotch broth and haddock fried in breadcrumbs, the more chips the better. It wasn’t until the cheeseboard had arrived that my brother-in-law-proved my dad right by getting down to the real business
of the day.
‘I’ve got something on my mind, Oz,’ he said, ‘and I’d like your advice.’
‘Plead guilty and throw yourself on the mercy of the judge.’
He smiled weakly, as befitted a pretty weak wisecrack. ‘I might need a mirror to do that soon,’ he replied. ‘What I’m going to tell you has to remain confidential, until an announcement is made.’ He glanced around. ‘Half the members of this place might know about it, but they’re within the institution, as it were, and it’s important that it doesn’t leak outside. The fact is, I’m going to be elevated to the Bench: a vacancy’s arisen, I’ve been proposed and the Judicial Appointments Board has nodded its head. My installation will take place within the next three weeks.’
‘Supreme Court?’ I asked.
‘Of course. If they’d offered me a Sheriff’s position I’d have turned it down flat.’
‘Well, congratulations. I knew you were headed there some day, but I thought you were still too young.’
He shook his head. ‘In the old days I would have been, but things have changed. The new system isn’t afraid to trust a forty-three-year-old to produce sensible judgments.’
‘Quite bloody right too,’ I told him. ‘I have to say that I’m more than a little chuffed that you chose to confide in me, but what the hell do you need my advice for? Is Ellie giving you grief about it?’
‘Not at all. I wouldn’t have gone for it without her full support. No, it’s my first wife who’s the problem.’
I frowned: I know more than most about troublesome ex-wives. ‘Why should that be?’ I asked. ‘She’s been off the pitch for over ten years now, hasn’t she?’
He pursed his lips. ‘Pitches, as you put it, mean nothing to Madeleine. I haven’t seen her in over five years. . and then it was by accident. . but I’m quite certain she still takes an interest in my career.’
‘What makes you certain?’
‘When our decree was granted, she promised me that she would. She didn’t take the civilised option when it came to ending the marriage. I had to sue for divorce on the ground of adultery: her counsel rather foolishly tried to nail me for a ridiculous sum as aliment. I had the Dean of Faculty in my corner. The judge listened to him, as he would, and she was awarded one pound a year. My costs were awarded against her too, but I didn’t pursue her for those.’
‘Bloody generous of you.’
‘That’s exactly what the Dean said: in the circumstances, he had to waive his fee as a courtesy to a fellow silk, even though I was still a fairly junior QC in those days.’
‘Remind me never to sue a lawyer.’
‘The odds would be against you, I concede. Maddy should have known that too, but you couldn’t tell her anything. She was livid with the judgment: she talked about appealing it, but her solicitor point-blank refused to help her. Finally she went off, clutching her pound, throwing me many a withering glance, and promising to take a special interest in my career.’
‘Has she remarried?’
‘No, and she still calls herself Madeleine January.’
‘When did you last hear from her?’
‘When Ellen and I were married: Maddy sent her a sympathy card.’
‘Jesus!’ I spluttered, then glanced around to make sure there were no clergymen in the room this time. ‘How did my sister react to that?’
‘She set a new world record for tearing a greetings card into small pieces. It looked like confetti when she was finished. She was all for posting it back to her with a note saying that she’d do the same to her next time, but I headed her off that. She couldn’t have anyway: I don’t know where Maddy is.’
‘Is that part of the problem?’ I asked him.
‘Very perceptive, Oz: I fear I may be about to come under attack, but I don’t know from which direction.’
‘But, Harvey, how could she possibly attack you? You’re a pillar of the community, one of the most respected figures in your profession, and you don’t have an enemy in the world. . apart from her, it seems. She, on the other hand, ran off with a bloody actor, not even a movie star like me, but a bit player.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘How did you know he was an actor,’ he asked, ‘far less have his credits list in your head?’
I’d put my size ten in it, hadn’t I? There was nothing to do but own up. ‘When you started going out with Ellie,’ I confessed, ‘I had you checked out by an ex-copper friend of mine, a guy called Ricky Ross.’
He beamed. ‘Ex-Superintendent Ross,’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ve had him in the witness box many a time. He’s very good: I’m not surprised your information’s accurate.’
‘Sorry, mate,’ I muttered lamely.
‘Don’t be. I’d have done the same to you in the circumstances.’
‘That’s good to know, but let’s go back to the original question. How could this Madeleine woman possibly attack someone like you?’
‘Well. .’ he began. As wells go, this one was pretty deep. ‘There are a couple of photographs, which would embarrass me, and everyone associated with me, if their very existence was ever known. If they were ever published. .’ He shuddered. ‘God forbid that they ever should be.’
‘But Maddy’s capable?’
‘Yes, I fear so.’
‘And she has them?’
‘I fear that also. Let me fill you in on the background. Madeleine Raymond. . her maiden name. . and I met when I was at Oxford, doing my BA. We shared a couple of classes. When I came back to Edinburgh to do my law degree, she followed me up here. Looking back, she probably reckoned that I was some sort of a catch. I fell for her, no doubt about it, and we were married as soon as I’d graduated and obtained my practising certificate. Big mistake on my part: I should have stalled her, maybe suggested living together for a while. But I didn’t and pretty much as soon as the knot was tied, I began to regret it. Maddy liked to party: so did I, to an extent, but I was career-minded and determined to get to the Bar as soon as I could. There was also the question of money. My family’s well fixed, as Ricky Ross will have told you, but I wasn’t prepared to let my folks pick up the tab any more than was necessary. So, like all young advocates, I went through a period where my income was pretty limited. She didn’t like that at all.’
‘Didn’t she work?’
‘She temped on occasion, to make ends meet, when she had to, but she hated it, and she let me know.’
‘How long did the marriage last?’
‘Seven years, though God knows how.’
‘How did it come to an end?’
‘I found out about her fling with the actor chap, Rory Roseberry. I learned later that he wasn’t the first. I was in the Crown Office at the time and she’d been playing numerous games while I was away prosecuting on the High Court circuit. Finally a brother advocate tipped me off. I decided to take action so I hired a private investigator.’ He grinned. ‘Believe it or not, I actually considered approaching you, but I was told that you didn’t do divorce work.’
‘Looking back,’ I told him, ‘I wish I had. The stuff I did was usually balls-achingly boring.’
‘I don’t believe that you mean that. You’re not the window-peeping type, Oz. I employed those chaps because I had to, but I detested them and what they did, not least because they seemed to enjoy it. They were good, though. They produced all the evidence I needed very quickly.’
‘How did you handle it?’
‘Brutally, I have to admit. I threw her out: we were living in my father’s Edinburgh flat at the time, since he’d retired to Florida by then. I changed the locks, and rented a small place for her.’
‘And the photographs?’
He sighed. ‘Yes, the photographs. Remember I said I wasn’t a regular party animal? Well, there was one time. We’d had some people in for dinner one Saturday night, at a period when things were okay, and we’d all had rather a lot to drink. The morning after I must still have been pissed, because when I got up. .’ He paused. ‘You know my old man was a judge too
, don’t you?’
I nodded. ‘The first Lord January.’
‘That’s right. Well, thing is, he shouldn’t have done so, but he’d a set of Supreme Court robes in the wardrobe at home, and a wig. So I got up, then, in a mad whim, put the robes on as a dressing-gown, stuck the wig on my head, and lurched off for a pee. When I came back to the bedroom, Maddy yelled at me to stop, framed in the doorway, and fired off a couple of snaps. I laughed about it, I bloody laughed, but the thing was I was bollocknaked underneath. Worse than that, I had an. .’
‘Enough said. I take it that you’re entirely recognisable in the photos.’
‘Oh, yes. Photography was Madeleine’s principal hobby, apart from actors. She was rather good at it, I’m afraid.’
My devious mind was working fast, considering all the options. ‘Leave her aside for a moment,’ I told him. ‘What about the possibility that when the film was developed, a technician might have ripped off a couple of extra prints, and that they’ll show up in the News of the World the weekend before your installation?’
‘That’s highly unlikely. We went on holiday to Mauritius the following week. The film was finished off and developed out there. No, my fear is that Maddy still has the bloody things; in fact, I’m certain she has. You see when I chucked her out, I gathered all her possessions together and boxed them. That included her photographic collection, and rather obviously, the first thing I did was look for those two prints. I found them, all right, and reduced them to ashes, but when I looked through the negatives, I discovered that the vital strip was missing.’
‘Maybe she burned it herself.’
He shot me a look that made me fear for all the poor buggers who’d soon be appearing before him in the dock. ‘No chance,’ he murmured grimly.
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