Gifthorse: The next instalment of the riveting Marnie Walker series

by Leo McNeir

  “That’s where he gets his beautiful handwriting.” Mrs Giles picked up the paper. “It’s most attractive.”

  Valerie and Mr Meadows scowled as the head examined the name.

  Dekker

  *

  Marnie spent more of that afternoon on the phone than usual. Her meetings had been cancelled because of the poor driving conditions, but the show had to go on.

  One of her calls was to let Roger Broadbent know her decision on the Docklands flat. He reassured her. She was doing the right thing, and he understood why she wanted to make her own way without relying on money inherited from Simon.

  When that call ended, Marnie put down the handset and began checking her to-do list. It was the first time in hours that the phone lay at rest. She was not surprised when it began ringing, though the caller was unexpected.

  “Margaret, hi. How are things at school?”

  “That’s why I’m phoning, Marnie. Is Anne coming up for the post this afternoon?”

  “She’s up there already.”

  “Could she possibly collect a letter for Willow, please?”

  “A letter? Why don’t you pop down and see her yourself? I thought she was supposed to be seeing you today. I drove her up this morning.”

  “Between you and me, Marnie, I have an idea she might have removed Ben from the school.”

  “Then wouldn’t it be better to have a chat in person?”

  “You may not have noticed …”

  “Ah, yes. The Arctic wastes of Knightly St John. Listen, Anne’s taken the Disco. I’ll ring her on the mobile and get her to pick you up. We can take you back afterwards. I’ll put the kettle on.”

  “I believe the mafia call that an offer you can’t refuse. After the day I’ve had, Marnie …”

  “That’s settled, then.”

  “Okay, but I don’t really want to see Willow again today. I’d like her to have my letter and be able to think about it without me seeming to put pressure on her. Could Anne drop it in on her, perhaps?”

  “I know exactly what Anne will say to that.”

  “No probs,” the two women chanted in unison.

  It was Margaret’s first real smile of the day.

  *

  Marnie was pouring Ralph a cup of tea when Margaret entered the office. Ralph took her coat and offered her a chair. As she sat, Marnie placed a cup of steaming Darjeeling in front of her.

  Margaret closed her eyes and murmured one word. “Bliss.”

  “Tough day?” Ralph said.

  Margaret stifled a yawn. “The school is becoming a hotbed of violence and conflict. I wonder if it’s due to the snow. All that pent-up energy. Children need to run about.”

  “Let off steam?” Marnie suggested.

  “Exactly. Instead, most of it’s coming out of my ears.” She turned to put her cup back down on Marnie’s desk and froze. “How peculiar.”

  “What is?” said Marnie.

  “That name again. Is it another alias, I wonder?”

  “Alias? What do you mean?”

  “Sorry. It’s a word Valerie Paxton used this morning when talking to me about Willow. She said that was her alias. Her real name is Georgina Haycroft, you know.”

  “I’m not following you at all, Margaret.”

  Margaret pointed at Ralph’s notepad on the desk. On it was written the name, Dekker.

  “Sorry, Marnie, I thought you realised.”

  “Realised what?”

  Margaret held up the pad to show Marnie. “This is what I’m talking about. I’m assuming Willow must have given you this.”

  “Why should she? What does Dekker have to do with her?”

  “Dekker is Willow’s married name,” Margaret said slowly. “Didn’t you know?”

  Chapter 17

  Gift

  On Thursday morning the wind had veered to the north-east bringing an arctic chill to the air. Anne was getting ready to go up for the post when she heard an engine running outside in the courtyard.

  She was puzzled. “Could that be Alan?”

  Marnie looked towards the window. “I doubt he can get down here in these conditions.”

  To their surprise a woman walked past the window, carrying a shopping bag, and knocked on the office door.

  “Excuse me, is it all right to come in?”

  Marnie stood up and introduced herself and Anne.

  “I’m Glynis Wright.” The explanation had no effect on Marnie or Anne. She added, “Robin’s mum?”

  Marnie offered the visitor a chair. “What can I do for you?”

  “You don’t know who I am.”

  “To be honest, no.”

  “My son Robin was involved in a fight at school yesterday. It’s not the first time it’s happened. He’s a bit podgy and one or two of the other boys gang up on him sometimes.”

  “This is about Ben,” Marnie said. “Look, Mrs Wright, it’s none of my business, but from knowing Ben I could never imagine him –”

  “I know, I know. It’s the opposite. He stuck up for my son and got into trouble. I found out he lived down here and I wanted to see him and his mother.”

  “I think I know where to find him,” Anne said. “Shall I?”

  Marnie nodded. While Anne was out of the office, Mrs Wright explained how she had managed to get down to Glebe Farm. As a district nurse she had a small four-wheel-drive, a necessity for working in the country.

  Anne returned to the office alone. She had found Ben, as expected, cleaning out Poppy’s stable and had sent him to fetch his mother.

  *

  When the phone rang on Thyrsis, Ralph had no doubt who would be on the line.

  “Ralph Lombard.”

  “Ralph, it’s Graeme.”

  He was right. A glance at the clock told him that almost twenty-four hours had passed since their last conversation. That was slow progress by the standards of Graeme McKinnon and the Highgate Business School.

  “How did you get on with your enquiries?”

  “It’s been like climbing the bloody Berlin Wall. You’d think I was trying to get the combination of the Bank of England safe!”

  “I thought you knew that already, Graeme.”

  “Well, actually, I do know a bloke who – Well, never mind about that. Potted version okay?”

  “Fire away.”

  “Do you know Smeeton Clarke?”

  Ralph paused. “Rings a bell. Fund managers in the City?”

  “That’s them. One of our old boys manages some of their major funds. About two years ago someone in the firm made a number of investments that were described as adventurous.”

  “Odd choice of words,” Ralph observed.

  “Quite. This chap invested heavily and courageously. The results took a lot of people by surprise. Or rather, a small number of people in Smeeton Clarke. The returns would’ve been the stuff of legend, if the word had ever got out.”

  “Are we talking about insider trading here?” said Ralph.

  “That was alleged. Highly unethical and of course strictly illegal. Smeeton Clarke manage funds of clients with a net asset value in the stratosphere. Any hint of impropriety on their part could have cataclysmic repercussions. It would shake the City of London to its foundations.”

  “You don’t think the person involved might just have made a brilliant assessment of a market opportunity that no-one else had spotted and acted on it accordingly?”

  “My contact at Smeeton Clarke told me that that had been the person’s defence. In fact, he vehemently denied any wrong-doing at all.”

  “Why wasn’t he believed? There are such things as brilliant people in the City. That’s why it has its reputation.”

  “Actually, Ralph, the board was divided over the affair. Some members were inclined to accept that explanation. But there was another matter that helped swing opinion the other way.”

  “Another course of action that had been equally courageous but less successful?”

  “Have you been making enqui
ries of your own, Ralph?”

  “No, but that would make sense.”

  “And that’s what had happened. One month before the event in question, this fund manager had taken a risk that hadn’t paid off. He’d taken a gamble and lost a fortune for his clients. In his defence later he maintained that he’d gone for a bigger prize and this time won it to make up for his earlier loss.”

  “A desperate measure.”

  “A shade too close to the wind for a respectable and generally conservative company like Smeeton Clarke. True, he’d won back a huge amount, but even so some of their clients virtually went under. They couldn’t be seen to employ fund managers who were so volatile, however brilliant.”

  “And they couldn’t afford to let the word get out.”

  “No, Ralph, certainly not. So that person had to go.”

  “With a suitably large golden parachute to keep him quiet forever.”

  “Of course. That’s how things are done in the City.”

  “And of course the person we’re talking about …” Ralph began.

  “… is Maurice Dekker,” said Graeme. “Smeeton Clarke were sorry to let him go. He’d been with them for over ten years and was one of their most creative thinkers.”

  “But a maverick, perhaps?”

  “Not really. My contact wondered if he’d had some sort of personal problem that might have affected his work at the time of the disaster. He’d taken some days off, pleading illness.”

  “Seems reasonable. You need all your wits about you in the City at that level.”

  “It was when he came back that he threw himself into putting things right. The problem was, in the eyes of the Smeeton Clarke board, he opted for the wrong strategy and could have made everything much worse.”

  Graeme excused himself at that point to take a tutorial. Without a word being said, both knew the conversation would go no further.

  The Highgate Business School network had been as effective as ever, though it had taken longer to get to the bottom of the mystery than either Ralph or Graeme had expected. Most mysteries could be sorted with a phone call or two. For several minutes Ralph went over the conversation in his mind. Something didn’t add up.

  *

  Willow and Ben came into the office without knocking. Ben shot Anne a smile. Willow looked wary. At their entrance, Mrs Wright stood up and smiled, a warm, friendly smile, and Willow gave it the benefit of the doubt.

  “You wanted to see us?” Willow said to Glynis Wright.

  They all sat down.

  “I wanted to meet you and see you before school started.”

  “For a particular reason?”

  Mrs Wright indicated the carrier bag. “I have something for you, or really for Ben.”

  “Oh?” The wary look returned.

  “Don’t worry. It’s just a gift, or a loan if you’d prefer.”

  “Why?”

  “Your son stood up for my boy in the playground yesterday. That bully, Geoffrey Collinson, was –”

  “Mrs Wright, it’s all academic now, in the past. Ben isn’t going back to the school. It was a mistake.”

  Mrs Wright looked from Willow to Ben and back again. “Taking him out of the school after two days would be a bigger mistake, in my opinion. Robin says he’s good at everything and has beautiful handwriting.”

  “It doesn’t seem to please Mr Meadows,” Willow said.

  “Is that a good enough reason for depriving Ben of the chance to be with other children for a change?”

  “There doesn’t seem much point in Ben staying there if it’s only going to cause trouble. Once the weather improves and the ice clears, we’ll be on our way.”

  “Mr Meadows would love that.” There was a bitterness in Mrs Wright’s tone that surprised everyone present. “He’d feel he’d got just what he wanted. Knowing someone like Ben would do him the world of good. It might make him a better teacher, learning that you can’t always take the easy option.”

  “Are you saying he condones bullying?” Marnie asked.

  Mrs Wright reflected. “He’s not a bad teacher. He knows his stuff, but he’s one of those people who likes everything to be just so. Very conventional.”

  “What does that have to do with bullying?”

  “It isn’t easy to explain, but he has his favourites.”

  “Like this Geoffrey?”

  Mrs Wright nodded. “And one or two others. They can do no wrong. Mr Meadows tends to turn a blind eye.”

  “That doesn’t explain why he’s so hostile to Ben.”

  It was Willow who replied. “Yes it does, Marnie. He feels he can’t cope.”

  “With a boy of ten?” Marnie sounded incredulous.

  “With a boy of ten who stands out from the other kids, rides to school on a horse, lives an unconventional life on a boat and takes no nonsense from teacher’s pets. And there are other reasons too.”

  Mrs Wright glanced at her watch. “Look, I said I came down before school started. We haven’t got long. Willow, if you accept what I’ve brought, Ben won’t stand out from the others, at least he won’t look different.” She held out the bag.

  Willow reached in and pulled out a maroon sweatshirt. On the front was printed in white letters the name, St John’s Primary School.

  “It’s new and unworn,” Mrs Wright explained. “I bought it as a spare for Robin, but he’s already outgrown it. If we left in the next few minutes …”

  *

  That night Marnie came into the sleeping cabin on Thyrsis with flushed cheeks, breathing heavily. She was wearing a white towelling bathrobe, tied at the waist. Ralph, sitting up in bed reading, turned to stare at her.

  “Have I missed something? Did you start without me?”

  “I’ve been doing exercises. It’s my body.”

  “Tell all. I’m here to help, any time.”

  “It needs toning, being cooped up, snowbound like this.”

  “Well,” Ralph said, turning aside the duvet.

  Seeing his expression, Marnie flashed him the heavy eyelids. “I’m serious, Ralph. I feel jaded, lack muscle tone. I’m thinking of joining a health club. There’s a good one near Silverstone.”

  She sat on the bed and began brushing her hair.

  “I haven’t asked about your day,” she said. “We’ve been so pre-occupied with Ben and his problems at school. How’s the book coming along? It must be almost finished.”

  “It’s more or less completed. Just writing the introduction.”

  “You end with the introduction? Must be a very small book.”

  Ralph laughed. “Or a very long introduction,” he suggested.

  “So what happens now? A lecture tour to promote it?”

  “Eventually. I’ve still got a few points I want to discuss with some people I know in the City.”

  “Ah, people in high places, no doubt.”

  Ralph looked up. “Funny you should say that. I had a chat this morning with my old friend, Graeme McKinnon.”

  “You mentioned him yesterday. Highgate Business School?”

  “That’s him. I asked him for info on Maurice Dekker.”

  “And does he know him?”

  “Not personally, but he knows a man who does.”

  Ralph outlined what Graeme had told him. Marnie said nothing until he reached the end of his narrative.

  “That’s what you thought, isn’t it, some dodgy dealing that meant he had to get out and be paid to keep quiet about it?”

  Ralph hesitated. “No, not quite.”

  “But I thought that’s what you –”

  “No. I don’t think that’s the whole story. Somehow it doesn’t ring true.”

  “In what way, Ralph?”

  “There’s something missing. I keep asking myself why did Dekker go into such total exile? He wasn’t the first to make that kind of mistake. If that sort of thing happens, companies are adept at covering their tracks, hushing up any hint of scandal.”

  “Are such things common?”


  “Not really. The City has its own code of ethics. On the whole, in my experience it’s a reputable place to do business. Its reputation goes back centuries. Dekker could simply have left the firm with his golden parachute, no doubt a huge sum, and spent the rest of his life making investments to keep his mind active and his fortune growing.”

  “You think something else happened to tip him over the edge?”

  “I doubt if we’ll ever know the answer to that.”

  For once, Ralph’s judgment was wrong. But he was already losing interest in the subject. He had caught a whiff of fragrance in the air, a light fresh perfume with a hint of gardenia, and the collar of Marnie’s bathrobe had slipped from her shoulder. He reached forward and began loosening her belt.

  “That’s enough about my problems. Let’s do something about yours.”

  “I have problems?”

  “I seem to recall you were concerned about your … body.”

  “Ah, that problem.”

  “Yes. Marnie, I remember reading about a very good course of exercise that can have highly beneficial results.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely. And it might be good for you, too.”

  Chapter 18

  Willow’s Story

  The wind had picked up in the night, though it had gone largely unnoticed by the occupants of the sleeping cabin on the narrowboat Thyrsis. Marnie and Ralph awoke refreshed on Friday morning to find the world covered in a new blanket of snow, and flurries of flakes swirling around them. They wrapped up warm to make their way across to the docking area, where Anne was already preparing breakfast in the galley on Sally Ann. The smells of coffee filtering and toast grilling welcomed them aboard.

  The weather forecast failed to promise any relief from the severe conditions.

  Halfway through breakfast, Ben surprised them by tapping on the window. Marnie waved him in, and he came into the cabin breathless with his jacket open to reveal the school uniform sweatshirt underneath. He had come to ask if his mother could have a lift to the shop when they collected the post. They were running short of supplies.

  “What about school, Ben? Will it be business as usual?”