by John Boyne
He dreaded the rare occasions when he was invited to Leyville for the weekend; Peter Montignac was polite enough, for form’s sake, but seemed completely disinterested in his entire existence. Raymond tried to engage him on any number of topics but it was pointless; the man simply didn’t want to know. And while Owen Montignac had warmed a little from the iceberg frostiness of their initial relationship, it was obvious to Raymond that he didn’t think him good enough for his cousin. He sought every possible opportunity to mock Raymond’s profession, while ignoring the fact that he was hardly an army serviceman himself, and Raymond felt intimidated whenever they were together. But Stella had insisted that he join them for dinner that evening and he had dutifully gone.
‘You may as well stay tonight,’ she said, kicking her shoes off now and finishing her drink. Raymond beamed and found that he could relax at last.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘If you like.’
‘I do like,’ she said quickly. ‘Now tell me,’ she added, leaning forwards. ‘The truth now. Be completely honest. Do you think that Owen believes I had anything to do with Father changing his will?’
5
‘I’VE BEEN MEANING TO come to see you,’ said Owen Montignac, standing with his back to the door but not edging any further forwards for the moment; he tried to speak in as casual a fashion as possible, as if the whole thing was terribly trivial and unworthy of his attention. ‘Everything’s just been so busy at the gallery recently that it slipped my mind.’
‘Perfectly understandable,’ said Nicholas Delfy, extending his hands wide in a show of magnanimity. ‘We’re both busy men after all.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Have a seat, Owen.’
There was no hint of a request here; it was a simple order and Montignac obeyed it. There were very few men in the world who had ever scared him but Delfy was one. It wasn’t that he himself was physically intimidating; in fact, with his short stature and angelic face he could hardly have been less threatening. And it wasn’t concern about the henchmen and bodyguards that surrounded him and could injure a man without a second thought that made Montignac wish he was anywhere but in his office right at that moment. It was Delfy’s reputation that made him nervous, for he was not known as a man who went so far as to kill his enemies. He was crueller than that. He found ways to hurt them through the people they cared about or, if there was no one of sufficient importance in the victim’s life to harm, he inflicted only enough damage to cause endless misery to his target. He had been known to paralyse people, leaving them in wheelchairs or hospitals for the rest of their lives, or blind them by ripping the eyes from the sockets. From time to time, he liked to remove a vital organ. He didn’t believe in giving anyone the easy escape of death.
‘I was sorry to hear about your uncle,’ said Delfy. ‘Were you close to him?’
‘I lived with him from the time I was five years old.’
Delfy smiled. ‘That’s not what I asked,’ he said.
‘I was close to him,’ he said hesitantly. ‘Up to a point.’
‘I had an uncle myself once,’ said Delfy. ‘I don’t remember him well, except that he was very kind to me as a child. Always brought me presents when he came to visit and played chess with me too, as I recall. Although he wasn’t very good and I could beat him by the time I was seven. I seem to remember that he never minded when I won. If anything he was proud of me for it. But then he was killed in the Great War.’
‘My father died in the war too,’ said Montignac, biting his lip as he said this because he didn’t like to talk about his parents much and certainly wouldn’t have chosen to discuss them with someone like Nicholas Delfy. He had only a vague recollection of his mother and father and knew that people had been discouraged from mentioning their names at Leyville while he was growing up.
‘Really?’ asked Delfy, interested now. ‘How did he die?’
‘He was at the battle of the Somme,’ he replied. ‘His platoon was hit by a shell from a German artillery tank. He was only thirty-four at the time.’
‘Is that so,’ said Delfy quietly, nodding his head out of respect. ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘Why would you?’ asked Montignac.
‘True, true. And was your father a gambler, Owen?’
Montignac sighed; he didn’t want to discuss his father as a metaphor for his own behaviour. ‘I’d hardly label myself as a gambler,’ he said.
‘Wouldn’t you?’ asked Delfy as if he was truly surprised by the answer. ‘How extraordinary.’ He reached across the desk to his ledger and started to flick through it until he came to a page about a third of the way from the end. He examined it silently for a moment before looking across at Montignac. ‘It says here,’ he began, ‘that you are in debt to me for a very large amount of money.’
‘Reasonably large, yes.’
‘Fifty thousand pounds,’ said Delfy with a whistle. ‘And change.’
‘I don’t think it can be quite that much.’
‘Would you like to see the figures?’ asked Delfy, the smile fading from his face. ‘I think you’ll find it’s perfectly accurate.’
‘No,’ said Montignac, shaking his head. (In fact he thought the figure had been slightly over sixty thousand so, up to a point, he was pleased.)
‘And then, of course, you wrote me a letter,’ said Delfy, lifting an envelope from the page and carefully removing the piece of paper within, as if it was an important piece of evidence that had to be handled with caution. ‘Quite an extraordinary piece of prose, if I may say so.’
‘The thing about that letter—’
‘Dear Nicholas,’ said Delfy, scanning it and reading selected passages. ‘Nothing too important to begin with … sorry I haven’t been in touch … Well we were all sorry about that, Owen,’ he said, looking up and smiling again as if the whole thing was an enormous joke. ‘I could hardly sleep out of concern for you. I thought perhaps you’d done a runner.’
‘I wouldn’t do that, Nicholas—’
‘However I believe I will be in a position to start repaying you the money I owe you very shortly. My uncle has just passed away and once the estate has been settled I will be able to send you a cheque for … very sad when a beloved family member passes away, Owen. You must have been distraught.’
‘If you would just allow me to explain,’ said Montignac, fighting to control his temper now.
‘Fine,’ said Delfy, leaning back in his chair and willing to let him dig his own grave. ‘Explain. Thrill me with stories of anticipation and disappointment.’
‘I was led to believe, I was always led to believe, that upon my uncle’s death the Montignac estate would pass to me.’
‘And let me guess, Owen,’ said Delfy with a smile. ‘Things didn’t quite go according to plan.’
Montignac shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No they didn’t. But I can set them right. You’ll get your money. You don’t have to worry about that.’
Delfy nodded slowly and considered things. He waited so long before speaking again that Montignac wondered whether he should say something himself, only he didn’t feel that would be a sensible idea.
‘What worries me,’ Delfy said finally, ‘is that two months ago, shortly before your uncle’s untimely passing, I asked you to come to see me to discuss the outstanding amount which, at the time, was some three thousand pounds less than it is now. What with the exorbitant amount of interest I’m forced to charge in order to meet my overheads. You do remember that meeting, don’t you?’
‘I remember it,’ said Montignac.
‘And you told me this story about being set to inherit the Montignac estate which, if I recall correctly, you stated to be worth in excess of two million pounds.’
‘The capital is,’ interjected Montignac. ‘But most of that is landholdings which are untouchable. It’s the interest and the rents that form the basis of my income. Would have formed the basis of it, that is.’
‘Indeed. And I asked you what condition yo
ur uncle’s health was in and you told me that it was passable but that he wasn’t getting any younger and that could change any day.’
‘Yes,’ said Montignac.
‘And I had no choice but to tell you of some of the things that I might be forced to do to you if you didn’t start to pay me back the money you owed me.’
‘Yes,’ said Montignac.
‘And then some weeks later I was reading the newspaper and what do I find? Only a front-page story informing me that Peter Montignac has passed away in his sleep at his country home. Quite suddenly. And quite unexpectedly. Well you can imagine my surprise.’
‘I could try,’ said Montignac.
Delfy narrowed his eyes; sarcasm was only permitted on his side of the desk. ‘I’m not playing a game with you, Owen,’ he said.
‘No. Of course not.’
‘It seems that there was an uncommon stroke of good luck in your uncle’s death which was countered by an unfortunate twist of fate when it was discovered that you were not to inherit after all. That must have been disappointing for you.’
‘It was … very surprising,’ admitted Montignac.
‘Semantics,’ said Delfy quickly. ‘And which am I to be then? Disappointed or surprised?’
‘No one was more shocked than I was when—’
‘All in all it leaves me wondering how long I am going to have to wait for my money.’
Montignac shuffled nervously and leaned forwards. ‘Nicholas, don’t think I’m—’
‘I think it’s better,’ said Delfy sharply, holding up a hand to halt him. ‘If we revert to the formalities. I only allow my friends to call me by my given name. Not those who are trying to steal from me.’
‘I’m not trying to steal from you, Nich—, Mr Delfy. I just need a little more time, that’s all.’
‘It’s an enormous amount of money, Owen. How much time are you talking about?’
‘Six months,’ said Montignac, plucking the figure out of thin air.
‘Six months?’ asked Delfy, laughing. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘The figure currently stands at just over fifty, right?’ asked Montignac; Delfy nodded. ‘If I can clear off the ten thousand in four weeks’ time, as a show of good faith, will you give me five months after that to come up with the balance? Say until Christmas?’
Delfy breathed heavily through his nose and leaned back in his chair, a slight smile crossing his lips. If nothing else, he admired the boy’s courage.
‘Ten thousand in four weeks, you say?’
‘It’s either that or you do your worst now and there’ll be no chance of me being able to get any of it. Trust me and if I haven’t delivered in a month’s time then what you do next will be for you to decide. But if I manage to fulfil my part of the deal then you give me till Christmas Day to find the rest.’
Delfy considered it; Montignac was quite right. If he did anything to damage the boy now it would be a beating that would cost him fifty thousand pounds. This way at least there was a chance.
‘I suppose I wonder how committed you would be to finding the money,’ he said finally in a thoughtful voice.
‘I understand the consequences if I don’t.’
‘Indeed,’ said Delfy, leaning back in his chair. ‘And tell me this. How far would you go to spare yourself?’
Montignac frowned. ‘As far as I had to,’ he said.
‘That’s good to hear. Because there would be some who would have moral objections to doing anything a little … unpleasant.’
‘I would suppress any such instincts,’ said Montignac, as if it was a point of honour. ‘You can rely on that.’
‘Some would draw the line at stealing, for example.’
‘Some might,’ said Montignac.
‘Others would hesitate before hurting someone.’
‘I can imagine,’ he replied.
‘And there are those who would never consider the gains that could be made from killing a man.’
Montignac opened his mouth for a moment but hesitated, unwilling to respond.
‘All right,’ said Delfy, smiling slightly, gratified to know that there was probably nothing that he wouldn’t do if asked. ‘We’ll give your little scheme a go. Four weeks from today. Not a minute longer, though.’
Montignac sighed in relief and stood up before Delfy could change his mind. ‘You can trust me,’ he said.
‘That’s neither here nor there,’ said Delfy with a shrug. ‘I’ll look forward to seeing you here four weeks from tonight. And I will be extremely disappointed if you don’t show up.’
‘I won’t let you down,’ said Montignac, opening the door and stepping back out on to the corridor quickly.
Delfy sat still for a few moments as the door closed and smiled, shaking his head as he wondered whether the boy would be able to manage it or not. It was an awful lot of money to find in such a short space of time but somehow he didn’t put it past him. And it was useful to know that there was something that Montignac might be able to do for him to help them both out. He reached for the phone and dialled a Westminster number.
6
DESPITE HAVING VERY LITTLE money of his own in his wallet, Jasper Conway insisted on taking Gareth and Alexander into the casino where, he told them, they could end the night with a bang.
‘Of course there are other ways to enjoy oneself in a place like this,’ he told his friends. ‘But this might be the best option for tonight.’
Alexander was happy to join him but Gareth wasn’t quite so sure; having never gambled before he was nervous of showing himself up among his more experienced friends.
‘Don’t be such a drip, Gareth,’ said Alexander. ‘It’s your birthday after all. If you can’t have a little luck about you on your birthday, well when can you?’
Gareth shrugged. ‘Won’t the other card players get angry if I have to keep asking for the rules, though?’ he asked.
‘We could play roulette,’ suggested Jasper. ‘It’s perfectly simple, you’ll pick it up in a flash. How much money do you have on you anyway?’
Gareth took out his wallet and looked inside. ‘About thirty pounds,’ he said.
‘That’s plenty,’ said Jasper. ‘Hand it over.’
‘Hand it over?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why, for heaven’s sake?’
‘Because I have to cash it in for chips,’ explained Jasper, looking across at Alexander and shaking his head at the boy’s naivety. ‘Don’t you know anything? Now come on. Don’t look so scared, old man! You could triple or quadruple your money inside an hour if luck’s on your side.’
Gareth frowned but took the money from his wallet and gave it to Jasper anyway, who smiled broadly and leapt away from the table with another ten pounds belonging to Alexander and told them he’d be back shortly with their markers.
‘Were you serious about what you were saying earlier?’ asked Alexander while they were waiting for him to return.
‘About having to get a job? Perfectly serious. It’s rotten luck.’
‘You never know. You might enjoy it.’
Gareth shrugged and an idea came to him. ‘I don’t suppose there’s anything going in your place, is there? Reviewing books perhaps? Seems like a cushy number.’
‘Eh, no,’ said Alexander quickly, for the number of books which could be reviewed for the newspaper was finite and he already tried to grab as many of them as possible for they paid by the word. ‘No, I don’t think that would work out. But working for your father does seem a bit extreme. How have you managed till now anyway?’
‘Well until now I’ve officially been studying, haven’t I?’ explained Gareth. ‘I only graduated last summer. I’ve been able to get away with the excuse that I’m taking some time off since then but there’s only so much the old man can take. I may have pushed him to the limit.’
‘I’m just surprised it’s taken him this long,’ said Alexander, who had met Roderick Bentley once or twice over the course of his friendship wit
h Gareth and had been struck by his gravity and strong convictions regarding his own career; he found it hard to imagine that he would be at all happy with his twenty-four-year-old son lurking around the house idly for too long.
‘He didn’t really notice me for months at a time,’ explained Gareth. ‘With the Domson trial and everything. He spent all his time working on it. It’s only now that it’s over and done with and the newspaper interest has died away that he’s starting to focus on other things again. Mother wants to take him on a long holiday to recover from the strain of the case but he says he can’t yet, that he doesn’t want it to look like he’s running away from the storm over Domson’s execution.’
‘Is there a storm?’ asked Alexander. ‘I thought everyone agreed that he should swing.’
‘Well, most people did. But Father still thinks he needs to let it all die down before taking time off. I think he’s worried that if he should take any leave at all then it’ll be an excuse for the Lord Chancellor to retire him behind his back.’
‘Like when those African tyrants skip off to Paris for a few days’ R & R and come back to find there’s been a coup d’état in their absence and they’re out of a job,’ said Alexander with a smile.
‘Exactly. Anyway, I think I’m his new project.’
‘Well then, my dear Gareth,’ said Alexander, lifting his champagne glass and clinking it against the side of his friend’s. ‘Then I think you simply have to bite the bullet and let him have his way. Or find something else to do that he will approve of.’
‘The only question is, what?’ said Gareth. ‘Keep your ears open, though, will you? I’ll do absolutely anything if it means I can steer clear of the law.’
‘Leave it with me,’ said Alexander with a wink. ‘I’ll let you know if I hear of anything.’
Jasper Conway returned at that moment with handfuls of chips and separated them into two uneven piles; five-sevenths for Gareth and two-sevenths for Alexander.
‘What about you?’ asked Gareth. ‘Aren’t you playing too?’
‘I’ll guide you,’ said Jasper with a smile. ‘I’ll play the informal role of mentor. And you can cut me in for thirty per cent of your winnings, how does that sound?’