I remained silent. Appalled by the story and knowing nothing I could say would help. I'd guessed there had been someone, once, but it was the first time she had mentioned him. She was quiet for a while, with thoughts of him I imagined, perhaps wondering what kind of life they might have shared had he lived.
'I came back to England then,' she said eventually. 'Not that I had any family here, but I'd written to Pamela and she'd invited me to stay with her. With them I mean. Rupert and her.'
Abruptly she cleared her throat, and in a much louder voice she said, 'Oh God, Mike, you've no idea how hard this is.' Another long silence. Then, her voice soft again, 'I wish I could go home. Perhaps if I wrote it down? And sent it to you. I don't know. I'm sorry but I don't think I can go on.'
I didn't know what to do. After a moment or two I lit cigarettes and passed one to her, wondering if she would finish there and then.
'Look, their marriage wouldn't have lasted anyway!' she said with sudden fierceness. 'It was on the rocks then. Even the day I arrived they were having a furious row. And they never stopped. And - and, I just got caught in the middle. They should never have married in the first place. People like them. Priorities miles apart. She wanted a big social life with him forever dancing attendance. And he was always rushing off to some business meeting, arriving back God knows when, creating havoc with her arrangements. She hated business and he lived for the excitement of the big deal! Mike, they were incompatible. God knows she was a silly bitch with her garden parties and things. But he was an absolute work fanatic. Just like you I suppose.'
She stopped dead. As if the thought had just struck her and she wanted time to consider it. 'I remember,' she continued slowly, 'he'd invested heavily in a business in Scotland which had gone wrong, and sometimes he'd be away for days, weeks even, at a time. Oh, he sorted it out in the end of course. He's terribly clever with business things. Some kind of genius I'd think. But sometimes he'd get back, late at night, tired and worried - Pamela would have gone to bed in a huff - and I'd wait up for him. Just to be there. Give him someone to talk to. A chance to unwind. Scotland was Pamela's last straw. She upped and went home to mother. I'd been there six months then. Six rotten months of always being in the middle, of trying to keep the peace. A useless, thankless task if ever there was one.'
She finished her drink at a gulp and waved the empty glass at me, a pale shape barely visible in the heavy gloom. I flicked my lighter to see where I was pouring the brandy and as I tilted the bottle upright again our eyes met. She looked away. 'Oh, darling, for God's sake. Don't make me spell it out.'
Even then I didn't understand.
'Of course, when Pamela went I should have gone too. Or left before. Or better still, never have stayed in the first place.' Her voice fell to a whisper. 'A month afterwards she came back and found us in bed together.'
I think she was crying but I couldn't be sure.
'Oh Mike - I'm sorry. Darling, it was a long time ago. Nine years. From here it's like it happened to someone else. At the time Rupert fascinated me. His looks, his energy, his clever business talent. And I suppose I was lonely and a bit mixed up. But Mike, I'm thirty years old! And I've only been to bed with three men in my life. David and Rupert - and you. It hardly qualifies me for a lay a month club does it? The only reason I'm so upset now is - it's such a damned stupid, old-fashioned thing to say - is in case you think badly of me.'
I reached for her hand and she clung to me with the urgency of a child waking from a nightmare. Eventually she pulled herself together enough to finish the story. 'Preparations for the divorce were hurried through. Everything was hushed up as much as possible. I stayed on at Rupert's place. He was away a good deal. Much as before really. And living more or less alone didn't bother me. It was a nice old house, peaceful and comfortable. I'd started to write by then. Articles, bits and pieces for magazines. Then - the day before the divorce became final - Pamela came back. Rupert was away of course, but she wanted to see me not him. It was all very unpleasant. She was upset - crying - hysterical part of the time. Calling me names, a whole torrent of abuse. God, it was awful! She wanted Rupert back. The divorce must be stopped. I was to leave the house that instant. I tried explaining that the marriage had failed. That I was unimportant. But she wouldn't listen. By then she'd reduced me to tears as well, so I wasn't paying much attention. Just wanting her to go, to leave me in peace. But I'll never forget her at the door. Screaming that we were murderers. That if I didn't stop the divorce, she'd kill herself.'
She shuddered at the memory and swallowed more brandy before saying, 'That's almost the whole story. The divorce became absolute the next day and she killed herself that night.'
I groaned at the horror of it.
'She drove her car over the cliffs near Eastbourne.'
'But that might have been an accident,' I protested. 'If she was upset - not concentrating -'
'She posted letters before she did it. To her parents and her solicitors. And - damn her - one to me. It came Monday morning. She killed herself Friday night.'
'Oh.'
'When I read it - all the bitterness and - Well I just knew I'd got to go away. Mike, I couldn't bear to look at him. Not any more. Every time I saw his face I heard her screaming -murderers.'
'Where did you go?'
'Rome. I was lucky I suppose. One of the magazines had talked of the possibility of a book. Italian history. I phoned them and they agreed. I stayed in Rome for almost three years.'
'And Rupert Hallsworth?'
'Went out of my life. Until two hours ago.'
Eight
Thursday morning. I was back at my desk after a three-day absence. Once there, I listed what I had learned of Hallsworth. It wasn't a long list. Sue had added a little more, except that she never wanted to see him again, and making me promise not to as much as mention her name.
During the previous evening there had been a moment when I as good as decided to stay at the bank. Only Sue's unexpected revelations had changed my mind. Some of her phrases repeated themselves in my mind. Like the verses of a popular song. 'Some kind of genius', and 'absolute work fanatic'. With a chorus bouncing along to 'the excitement of the big deal'. Words which rekindled the excitement experienced first hand during my long talk with Hallsworth, prompting memories of Poignton's dry confirmation that his fortune was what he'd made of it, and Richardson's comment about investments being safe rather than spectacular - safe at the right time too, with the market turning sour as it had. Something else Richardson said? About Hallsworth being a loner. Well, what of it? Wasn't as much said of me? And wasn't it true? Didn't I believe he travels fastest who travels alone?
None had breathed a word of criticism. The worst discovered was that his marriage had failed. Even that he'd told me himself. And again, so what? Discarded marriages and coronaries - status symbols for ambitious men. Anyway, Sue had explained it, with 'priorities miles apart'. Even his wife's death, about which I had been so intrigued in Poignton's office, didn't rest at Hallsworth's door.
He'd been away, not known of her visit, never been told by Sue.
Sue? An unexpected twinge of jealousy. Unfair of course, I was fond of her but not in love and had never told her so. Naturally I was sad for her. About the awful time she'd had. Losing her parents and, what was his name, David? And after that her being attracted to Hallsworth wasn't difficult to understand. Nor him being captivated by her. She was fun, attractive, good in bed. Someone less selfish than me would have married her years ago.
I was still busy with my thoughts when Peter Marcus, one of the Directors, buzzed me: 'Big day tomorrow, eh Mike?' He meant the monthly Board meeting at which my acceptance was confidently expected.
'I can't wait.'
'I've been trying to think of a suitable initiation ceremony. You know - daub you with the blood of a sacrificial typist or something.'
'Do I choose the typist?'
'What? Oh yes, very good - you make the all-important first incision, eh?'
He brayed with laughter and collapsed into sniggers before remembering why he had called. 'By the way, have you got the Baroni files in your office?'
We talked about the Bank's business with Baroni's for five minutes before he hung up, leaving me seething with irritation. The remark about the initiation ceremony was typical of Bank humour. A patronising reminder to count myself lucky to be accepted into their club. Exactly the attitude which had stopped me accepting their offer in the first place. And a ceremony of some kind wouldn't surprise me either, however much I hated the idea. They were maniacs for charades. Half the time pomp and circumstance were more real to them than everyday business. It wasn't the first time that I asked myself if I'd settle for their silly jokes and endless committee meetings. But it was the first time I'd ever given myself an answer. At least with Hallsworth I'd be nearer being my own man. The biggest committee would be two. The pace would be fast and furious.
I phoned Poignton at Durbeville's and went round to see him after lunch, ignoring his warning that the most he could spare was half an hour of his time.
'Did Pamela Johnstone leave any money?' I asked, as soon as we were alone in his room.
'A will, you mean?'
'That's the usual way.'
'I've no idea. We acted neither for her nor her family. I rather doubt it would have been much if she had.'
'Why?'
'I believe her family had been Army for generations.'
'So?'
'Not many professional soldiers became millionaires.'
'Napoleon did.'
'Not a member of their family, Mr Townsend.'
'Pity.'
'We'd all cherish illustrious ancestors.'
'I meant about the money.'
'Why?'
'Just an idea - it doesn't matter.'
He fished the half hunter from his waistcoat and made a fuss of looking at it. I ignored the hint. 'You said Hallsworth was born in India, I believe. Were his family Army as well?'
'Indian Army,' he nodded. 'There was a great difference in those days.'
'You mean they were more likely to have money?'
'I mean that in the main they came from older families.'
'And that amounted to the same thing?'
'Sometimes.' His face dissolved into a patchwork of annoyed crinkles. 'I really am most exceptionally busy. I agreed to see you only because you said something about signing the agreement and I gave our client an undertaking to make myself available in that eventuality.'
'I have to let the Bank know tomorrow,' I said, almost desperately. 'I wondered if you cared to add anything which might help my decision.'
He fairly snorted with impatience. 'Well, really! I feel I've done my share. Frankly another question and answer session is quite unthinkable. It's your decision, Mr Townsend, and I rather wish you'd hurry up and make it.'
'I might sign,' I blurted out. 'But I'd like a couple of clauses added to the agreement.' He had rattled me and I was annoyed with both of us. 'I need to discuss them with Hallsworth. Where can I reach him?'
'I've really 'no idea.' His blue watery eyes seemed interested. 'However, I am authorised to consider any reasonable alterations.'
I drew a deep breath. 'I want it stated that no investment may be made without my consent.'
'A power of veto?'
'If you like.'
'To veto what he does with his own money? Bit strong don't you think?'
'It will be the company's money, not his.'
'A loan, Mr Townsend - not a gift.'
'And that's the second condition. I want it written in that the loan is interest free and can't be called in for five years.'
There was a very long pause while I listened to the clock tick its heart out over the mantelpiece. I wondered if I'd gone too far.
'And those are your extra demands?' he said eventually.
'Yes.'
'The power of veto?' His pale eyes flickered while he considered. 'Perhaps if it was mutual. You both have to approve any investment in advance of commitment.'
'I'll agree to that.'
'Good of you,' he said drily. 'And as to the period of the loan itself? I suppose we might go to three years?'
'I'd rather we went to five.'
We stared at each other, hard-faced across the desk.
'We might just consider four years, Mr Townsend?'
'Might we, Mr Poignton?'
'Shall we?'
'Let's.'
The documents were amended, retyped, signed and witnessed, and twenty minutes later I was back on the street, with my copy of the agreement in my briefcase. I had become Hallsworth's partner. It all happened so quickly I could hardly believe it.
Sue phoned that night. It was unusual for us to be in touch between meetings. She had no phone at the cottage, regarding it as a potential source of interruption to her work, so for me to contact her was in any case virtually impossible.
'Are you all right?' she asked.
'Shouldn't I be?'
'Oh, I don't know. It's just that I've been worrying about you that's all. Me making a fool of myself last night whilst you were fretting over an important decision. It couldn't have helped and I wanted to say sorry.'
'There's no need. Honestly. And the important decision's made anyway.'
'Oh?'
'Don't you want to know?'
'You know I do.'
'I'm joining Hallsworth. I'll resign from the Bank in the morning.'
She was silent for a moment before asking, 'Are you pleased?'
'Yes. Now I've made up my mind.'
'Then I'm glad, darling. Glad for me too, I suppose. I can stop feeling guilty. Knowing that I didn't make things more difficult for you.'
'On the contrary,' I assured her truthfully. 'You helped me decide.'
Nine
The following year was one of the happiest in my life. At least the equal of the time spent with Terry in the flat at Belsize Park. But for the self-discipline learned then, the exhilarating freedom of becoming involved with Hallsworth might have gone to my head. He was virtually a sleeping partner and I was what I had always wanted to be. My own man at last. Even the business, when it was incorporated in March, was named simply 'Townsend and Partner Ltd.'
Hallsworth explained his function during the first month. And his New York commitments. We were sitting in our new offices on the corner of Hill Street and Chesterfield Hill, a stone's throw from Park Lane. The building was original Georgian, full of spacious rooms and long windows, Adam fireplaces and chandeliers. Four floors of gracious living, linked by a sweeping staircase and uncertain lift. I hesitated when I saw it the first time. For a start it was larger than we needed and certainly farther from the City than I considered ideal. But Hallsworth had insisted saying we'd grow into it in time, and meanwhile why not turn the top floor into a flat for myself. I thought about it, put the Maida Vale house on the market, sold it at a very good profit, repaid Walpoles, and by the end of the first month had settled very comfortably into Hill Street. It was one of the things I liked about Hallsworth. If an idea made sense, we did it. No messing about.
'Mike, I've got a problem in New York,' he settled himself in the chesterfield in my office. 'Oh don't look alarmed, nothing serious.'
I waited.
'It's just that some other arrangements I've been working on seem to be materialising and they're going to require a lot of my time.'
'In New York?'
'There and Africa. I'm afraid it means I'll be away a good deal over the next year.'
'But what about us? Townsend and Partner?'
'I don't see a problem. You'll just have to make most of the decisions, that's all. After all, I trust your judgement that's why I wanted you in the first place. Naturally I'll be in touch - be here once a month I'd think. But the day-to-day running will be all yours.'
I thought about it.
'Look, it's inconvenient and I'm sorry,' his dark eyes smiled and took over. 'Not that it's happened. Just t
hat it's happening right now. Funny, but compared to what I've been used to in the past, the last couple of years have been pretty slow. Now, the three projects I most hoped for are all coming up together.'
'Will the other projects require any capital from here?'
'You mean any of the million pounds? Hell, no. Not a penny. As a matter of fact the New York thing might even generate a few opportunities for you, in time.'
I'll say this for Hallsworth, anything promised was as good as done. After that conversation, Townsend and Partner became for all practical purposes my own business. I engaged the handful of staff, devised and implemented policy and conducted the company's affairs, whereas even his attendance at the office was, to say the least, sketchy. Sometimes two meetings a month, then five or six weeks could pass before I even set eyes on him. Each time he would spend a day with me, examine our investments, discuss our growing list of clients, join me for a quick drink in the evening, and be gone again.
I learned a little about his two other schemes, in fact in a small way even helped with the African project. It was a simple, purchasing organisation, buying manufactured goods - industrial machinery, drugs, that kind of thing - for various African countries. My involvement was limited to recruiting the man to run it, Paul Seckleman. That done, Seckleman engaged a couple of clerks, set up an office on the second floor and reported to Hallsworth in the same irregular fashion as I did. The New York job sounded bigger, involving a consortium of manufacturers engaged in equipping steel mills and blast furnaces in the States. I've no idea how Hallsworth became involved but it sounded like big business from what he let drop, though he never mentioned what his profit was to be at the end of it. Not that I enquired. It wasn't really my business. Townsend and Partner was, and I was more than pleased to have that.
Sue was away a good deal during the year as well. At the end of March she was commissioned to do a book on Greek history and early in April I was at Heathrow waving her onto a plane for Athens. We talked vaguely about spending a few weeks together in the Greek Islands during the summer, but as it turned out our work schedules never meshed and it wasn't until just before Christmas that I saw her again.
The Money Stones Page 4