by Leo McNeir
“Really?” Anne persisted.
“Yes. I’ve just taken a vow not to get involved with the Dekker family any more. And I feel all the better for it.”
“With one small proviso,” Ralph added. “I’m still curious about what caused Maurice to make such a big misjudgment.”
“You can follow it up if you want,” said Marnie. “I have a life to lead, and it’s more than enough to keep me busy.”
“Misjudgment?” said Anne.
“Ralph is curious about why Maurice unaccountably made a huge error. I can understand that. On the other hand, I don’t see how we’ll ever be able to find out what it was.”
They veered left out of the station and headed for the car park, turning up their collars against the evening chill.
“Would it help to know when it was?” said Anne.
Ralph turned towards her. “We know it was a couple of years ago, or thereabouts.”
“But would it help to know exactly when?”
Ralph paused. “It might.”
Chapter 21
Gifted
It felt like stepping back in time or embarking on an expedition to the North Pole. The trip to London had lulled them into a comfortable feeling that winter was slipping away. The reality of Monday morning came as a shock. Marnie and Anne had trekked through the spinney after breakfast crunching snow under their feet in complete silence: no birdsong, no sounds of movement anywhere.
The office was snug and warm when they opened up. Marnie checked the answerphone for messages while Anne dumped the bundle of newspapers she had brought from home on her desk. She would be going to college later that morning but before then she had a research assignment to prepare.
They had been settled for barely five minutes when Ben knocked on the door. Was Anne going up for the post? Would she be willing to walk Poppy back if Ben rode her to school? Two positive answers and he was gone.
It took Anne nearly half an hour to find what she was looking for. She reread the article, cut it out of the paper and made notes. A tap on the window attracted her attention. Grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl, she made for the door.
*
Marnie’s first phone call of the day was to her sister. She explained to Beth that she would be keeping the flat in Docklands after all and found herself listening to air. Eventually Beth spoke.
“Shrewd move, Marnie. With the housing market picking up like this, it makes sense to hang on for a while.”
“I’m keeping it indefinitely, Beth.”
“But you could sell it and make a real killing. Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean –”
“That’s okay. I know what you meant.”
“How much is it worth, Marnie?”
“A lot.”
“I know that, but how much is a lot?”
“You wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
A pause. “North of half a million.”
“You’re kidding!”
The second call was to Roger Broadbent.
“A sound decision, Marnie. There are no outstanding legal matters to deal with. The tenancy and agency agreements are concluded. The existing cleaner can do a couple of hours a week to keep everything in good order. Direct debits are in place for council tax, utilities and maintenance charges. The interest on Simon’s investments should more than cover everything. Have you decided what you’ll do with the place?”
“Not yet. Time will tell.”
*
Margaret Giles was in Valerie Paxton’s office sorting through the post when she caught sight of something unusual at the school gate. Ben was slipping down from the back of his horse while Anne held the reins. He turned quickly and kissed her on the cheek before skating off across the playground, turning to wave halfway. Anne tied the reins to the gate post and set off along the high street. Margaret smiled to herself and cocked an eye up to the sky. It looked as if more snow was on the way.
“Whatever next?” said Valerie.
“Quite,” said Margaret. “It wouldn’t surprise me.”
The secretary gave the head teacher an odd look.
“I meant whatever next, now that we have pupils arriving at school on horseback.”
“One pupil,” the head corrected her.
“One too many. He does it every day now. Too full of himself, if you ask me.”
“Valerie, I understand the boat horse needs the exercise. She’s cooped up in a stable when she’s used to working all day. Living in the country, you should appreciate such matters.”
“Mm …”
“I don’t think we should misinterpret Ben’s motives.”
“You weren’t here on Friday, Mrs Giles. I wonder what his motives were then.”
Margaret stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to speak out of turn, but he made a fool of Mr Meadows in front of the entire school.”
Margaret glanced towards the door. “I think we should continue this conversation in my office.”
*
Anne dropped the junk mail straight into the dustbin on her way back to the office and had the rest of the post sorted in less than ten minutes. Dropping two letters requiring Marnie’s attention on her desk, she waved a cheque under her nose.
“Good news, Marnie. We can eat this month.”
“Glory be!”
“If I can get the car up the track I’ll go into town this morning. I can pay the cheque in on my way to college.”
“When will you be back?”
“Mid-afternoon. Do you need me for anything?”
“I’d like you to go over some designs for Manston Hall before your main job of the day.”
Anne looked puzzled. “My main … ah yes, of course. Boots and saddles time. I’ll be here. Seeya!”
*
Valerie Paxton had declined a seat on the grounds that she could only stay a minute before attending to the school registers. Margaret Giles listened while Valerie gave her version of events in the school hall the previous Friday.
“This isn’t terribly clear, Valerie. Are you saying that Ben was in the wrong for solving the Rubik’s cube or for scrambling it so that Mr Meadows could solve it?”
Valerie struggled to find the right words. “He wasn’t supposed to solve it. Jacqueline couldn’t do it, so she asked Mr Meadows to put it right.”
“But you said he was too busy to attend to it, so Ben had a try and managed to resolve the puzzle. Isn’t that right?”
“No, well yes, in a way.”
“I don’t see how there’s an issue here, Valerie.”
“The boy … Ben … shouldn’t have interfered. It was none of his business.”
“But he unravelled it for Mr Meadows at his request, didn’t he?”
Valerie took two exasperated breaths. “He was trying to be clever and make Mr Meadows look foolish.”
“Don’t you think you’re assuming a lot there, Valerie, that you knew what was going on in Ben’s mind? Don’t you think you should give him the benefit of the doubt? He’s a ten year-old boy, after all.”
“He made everyone laugh at Mr Meadows.”
“That may be so, but it’s your interpretation of why that happened that bothers me.”
“He’s caused trouble ever since he arrived.” Valerie looked at her watch. “I’d better collect the registers.”
“Yes. Good idea.”
Valerie was going through the door when Margaret called after her. “Could you ask Mr Meadows to come and see me at morning break, please.”
*
Mr Meadows was reminding the class about the rules relating to snowballs when Valerie Paxton entered the room to deliver the head teacher’s message. She spoke quietly into his ear. He nodded and gave her the register, turning back to the class as she left the room.
“Now, where was I?” he said.
A girl in the front row put up her hand.
“Yes, Lynda?”
“You were telling us about the scho
ol rules, sir.”
Mr Meadows was pleased to have their full attention, but was less pleased to notice that one of the children was looking out of the window. Snow had begun falling again, and the boy had become distracted by it.
“Ben Haycroft,” said Mr Meadows. “Pay attention.”
Ben nodded in reply and faced the front.
“I assume you know what rules are, do you, boy?”
“Yes.”
“Sir.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell me, then. What are rules?”
“Regulations, like laws. Things you have to do.”
“So they must be obeyed in all circumstances, don’t they?”
Ben hesitated, looking thoughtful.
“Well?” Mr Meadows walked along the aisle and looked down at Ben. “I’m waiting.”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Surely, there’s nothing to think about, unless you have some clever answer to explain why rules or laws don’t have to be obeyed?”
“It’s sort of difficult.”
“What’s difficult about it?”
“Well, I mean, you can break some laws but not others.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You can sort of break rules made by people, but you can’t break the laws of physics.”
Mr Meadows opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
*
Anne had been in the library down the road from college barely five minutes when she realised that her master plan had floundered. Taking the copy of Who’s Who from the shelves, she had settled herself at a desk and pulled out her notebook. The newspaper cutting lay open beside her, and she reread the quote from the article.
Under the headline, IRS Investigation into Company Failures, she read how a special inquiry was being conducted by Inland Revenue officials into a series of disastrous crashes by firms that had hitherto been performing at a high standard for years. Sifting through the references to corporate failure, management ineptitude and regulatory inadequacies, she found the quotes from the top executives that had first sparked her interest. She ran a finger down the page, and there it was.
Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of Brandt Greenman Enterprises, Larry Whittingstall, conceded that he and other board members had taken their eye off the ball. Their City advisers had always provided them with ‘copper-bottomed’ guidance on market trends and they had been astonished to discover that a key policy development had been underpinned by inaccurate forecasts and incomplete data. “I’m confident that when the true picture is known, we will be vindicated.” For Whittingstall the problem is that the true picture is unlikely ever to be fully revealed. He added ruefully, “What a birthday present! I’ll never be able to forget the day the world collapsed around me.” Whittingstall was apparently celebrating his forty-sixth birthday when the news of the disaster reached him.
It had all seemed so easy. Find Larry Whittingstall’s entry in Who’s Who and she would know precisely when Maurice Dekker had made his big mistake. The bad news was, there was no entry for Whittingstall in the book. She closed the hefty volume with a thud. It was so loud she looked around for fear she had disturbed the other readers in the reference section.
“I take it you’ve finished with that?”
Anne was startled by the voice in her ear. She turned and found a young man grinning down at her. His identity badge revealed him to be Rick Galt, assistant librarian.
“Er, yes. Sorry about the bang.” Anne gave him an apologetic smile. “It even woke me up.”
“Shall I put it back for you?”
“I can do that.”
“No trouble. All part of the service.” He reached for the book. “So not a successful result, then?”
Anne shook her head. “Total failure.”
“Have you thought of using any of our other volumes?”
“It had to be Who’s Who for the kind of detail I needed.”
“Whose details did you want, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Someone called Larry Whittingstall.”
“And he is?”
“Boss of a company in the City. I thought he might be important enough to have an entry.” Anne stood and picked up her briefcase. “Never mind.”
“A big company?”
“I think so.”
“Did you know there’s an edition of Who’s Who for top business people?”
“Really? I didn’t see that one.”
“That’s because we don’t have a copy at this branch. We’ve got one at the central reference library, as well as some other business directories that might help.”
Anne looked at her watch and frowned. Rick Galt continued.
“If you don’t have time to go there, I could get you a copy of the page with the relevant entry, assuming it’s included.”
“You could?”
“Sure, but it’ll cost you.”
“How much?”
He grinned. “Ten pence.”
“Fine. But how long would that take?”
“When do you need it by?”
Anne looked at him steadily without speaking.
“I get it,” he said. “The usual, then. Yesterday?”
Anne smiled slowly. “Is that the best you can do?”
His grin widened. “Take a seat. I’ll be back.”
Rick was gone for some minutes, during which time Anne checked her college timetable.
“Bingo!” Rick put a single sheet of fax paper down on the desktop and pointed towards the bottom of the page. “Is that him?”
Anne peered at the small print.
WHITTINGSTALL, Laurence Marcus,
chairman and chief executive, Brandt Greenman Enterprises
The very first detail was just what she wanted: date of birth, 9 April 1949. She quickly scanned the rest of the entry. He had been married twice, had two sons, a degree in accounting and finance from Birmingham plus an MBA from Cranfield. His career path included a number of well-known financial institutions.
Anne looked up at Rick Galt. “Bingo!” she said quietly.
*
Mr Meadows took the seat opposite the head and was immediately served a cup of coffee by Valerie Paxton. Margaret Giles said nothing until Valerie left the room.
“I wanted to thank you for taking charge in my absence on Friday,” she began. “I hope it won’t be necessary again this winter.”
“No.”
“Mrs Paxton tells me there was something of a problem just before dinner time.”
“A problem?”
“Involving a Rubik’s cube?”
Mr Meadows flushed. “Oh that. Well, it wasn’t anything, really.” He sipped the coffee. “I was too busy to deal with it and there was a misunderstanding.”
“I’m glad of your reassurance. Tell me how Ben Haycroft is getting on.”
The sudden change of direction seemed to disconcert Mr Meadows.
“Oh, his work is quite good, considering.”
“Considering what, exactly? That he’s unaccustomed to being in a school environment?”
“I suppose so.”
“I rather had the impression his work was more than just quite good. I’d very much like to see his books, please.”
“It’s not his books that give the full picture. It’s more …”
“His attitude, perhaps?”
Mr Meadows grasped at the idea wholeheartedly. “Yes. Exactly. So you do understand.”
“Let’s talk again during mid-day break. And perhaps you could bring Ben’s books along.”
*
Ralph walked through the spinney to join Marnie for a sandwich at lunchtime. The snow that had threatened since first light had held off, but there was a damp chill in the air. The lowering clouds had prevented the sun from dispersing the early mist, and it had hung around all morning.
Marnie was busy in the kitchen area when he entered the office barn. As he hung up his jacket, the phone began ringin
g and he offered to take the call.
“Walker and Co, good afternoon.”
In the background Marnie smiled to herself, amused to have an Oxford professor as receptionist.
“Hi, Ralph, it’s Anne. Have you been promoted?”
“Yep. Marnie says I can give out the pencils next week. Presumably you’d like to speak to her?”
“Not necessarily. Listen, does the date 9 April mean anything to you?”
“Should it?”
“It’s about the time nearly two years ago when everything went pear-shaped in the City on account of Maurice Dekker.”
“This is what you were hinting at yesterday?”
“Yes. I’ve traced it back to that date.”
Anne gave Ralph a rundown on how she had seen Larry Whittingstall’s remark in the paper about his birthday and worked back from there.
“Ralph, you said it might help work out what disaster made Maurice Dekker take to the waterways if we knew when it had happened.”
“Yes. It might.”
“So can you do that now?”
Ralph pondered before replying. “Probably not.”
“Oh.” Anne sounded dejected.
“But I think I know a man who can,” said Ralph.
*
There were only a few minutes remaining before the end of the mid-day break, and Margaret Giles was beginning to think that Mr Meadows was not going to appear, when she heard a knock at the door. Mr Meadows came in, clutching some exercise books, looking sheepish.
Sitting opposite the head, he watched in silence as she turned the pages. When she looked up, her expression was neutral.
“Quite good work, you said, I seem to recall, Mr Meadows.”
“Yes.”
“Are these all his books?”
“Yes.”
“You see, I’m wondering where the quite good work is.”
“I don’t understand, Mrs Giles.”
Margaret tapped the exercise books with a finger. “This work is exemplary. The essays are thoughtful and the ideas clearly expressed. The maths contains no errors at all that I can see. Ben’s work is neat and tidy, his handwriting attractive. His mother must have taught him to use italic script. Don’t you think your assessment of quite good may be a little grudging?”
“He’s had individual tuition, Mrs Giles.”