Next of Kin

by John Boyne

  ‘It will be soon,’ said Keaton, looking at the clock and tuning in to the station which was playing some music at the moment. ‘Did I tell you I had a visitor last night?’

  ‘No, who?’

  ‘Roderick Bentley. Came charging over here immediately after the case collapsed, wanting to take back his proxy. Well it was too late by then, of course. The poor fool didn’t realize that he and his wife were their son’s alibi all along. They didn’t need to go through any of this. Slightly ironic, isn’t it?’

  Montignac tapped the desk nervously. The sound was coming through quite clearly and he couldn’t help but glance out the window in the direction of the palace and wonder what amount of chaos must be going on there. The two of them would make quite a picture, he thought, if anyone looked in. The ageing judge and the youthful art gallery manager, sitting around a desk listening to music on the wireless. They didn’t say anything to each other for the moment; for both, it was the climax of their year and everything they had done during it came down to this moment.

  The music died away and a voice broke in, the posh received pronunciation of the BBC announcer.

  ‘We interrupt this programme to bring you an announcement direct from Buckingham Palace, where His Majesty King Edward VIII is to make a special address.’

  ‘Here we go,’ said Keaton in a chirpy voice, clapping his hands together in delight. ‘Hold on to your hats.’

  A crackling sound came through the wireless and they held their breath as the thin, sorrowful voice began to speak.

  ‘At long last I am able to say a few words of my own. I have never wanted to withhold anything, but until now it has not been constitutionally possible for me to speak.’

  ‘Could have if he’d wanted to,’ grunted Keaton. ‘Don’t know who could have stopped him if he’d had a mind to it.’

  ‘A few hours ago I discharged my last duty as king and emperor, and now that I have been succeeded by my brother, the Duke of York, my first words must be to declare my allegiance to him. This I do with all my heart.’

  Keaton’s face lit up and he grinned across the table, raising his eyebrows in delight. He made a triumphant fist.

  ‘You all know the reasons which have impelled me to renounce the throne. But I want you to understand that in making up my mind I did not forget the country or the empire which, as Prince of Wales and lately as king, I have for twenty-five years tried to serve.’

  ‘Bloody hypocrite,’ said Keaton. ‘Freeloader! Wastrel! Thief!’

  ‘But you must believe me when I tell you that I have found it impossible to carry the heavy burden of responsibility and to discharge my duties as king as I would wish to do without the help and support of the woman I love.’

  Keaton was shaking his head now, as if the whole thing was beyond ridiculous. ‘Can you believe it?’ he asked Montignac. ‘For a woman? Absolutely extraordinary.’ Montignac frowned. He wished Keaton would stop editorializing; he didn’t want to miss a word.

  ‘And I want you to know that the decision I have made has been mine and mine alone. This was a thing I had to judge entirely for myself. The other person most nearly concerned has tried up to the last to persuade me to take a different course. I have made this, the most serious decision of my life, only upon the single thought of what would, in the end, be best for all.’

  ‘Best for you, you mean,’ said Keaton.

  Montignac found it hard to relate the desperately unhappy voice emanating from the wireless to the happy, jovial character he had recently met in the Unicorn Ballrooms, but of course it was one and the same. Even now, listening to the speech, he found it hard to believe that he had been part of such an ambitious plan.

  ‘The decision has been made less difficult to me by the sure knowledge that my brother, with his long training in the public affairs of this country and with his fine qualities, will be able to take my place forthwith without interruption or injury to the life and progress of the empire. And he has one matchless blessing, enjoyed by so many of you, and not bestowed on me—a happy home with his wife and children.’

  ‘They’ll try for a son now,’ said Keaton quickly. ‘You mark my words. A queen’s not the same.’

  ‘During these hard days I have been comforted by her majesty, my mother, and by my family. The ministers of the crown, and in particular Mr Baldwin, the prime minister, have always treated me with full consideration. There has never been any constitutional difference between me and them, and between me and parliament. Bred in the constitutional tradition by my father, I should never have allowed any such issue to arise.’

  ‘Oh please,’ said Keaton. ‘He behaved like a petulant child throughout, throwing his playthings out of the pram whenever he got a chance.’

  ‘Ever since I was Prince of Wales, and later on when I occupied the throne, I have been treated with the greatest kindness by all classes of the people wherever I have lived or journeyed throughout the empire. For that I am very grateful.’

  ‘It’s goodbye to all that now,’ said Keaton.

  ‘I now quit altogether public affairs and I lay down my burden. It may be some time before I return to my native land, but I shall always follow the fortunes of the British race and empire with profound interest, and if at any time in the future I can be found of service to his majesty in a private station, I shall not fail.’

  ‘Not one to just wander off into the sunset then,’ said Keaton. ‘Knew it was too good to be true.’

  ‘And now we all have a new king. I wish him and you, his people, happiness and prosperity with all my heart. God bless you all! God save the king!’

  ‘God save the king,’ echoed Keaton.

  ‘Don’t be such a bloody hypocrite,’ said Montignac, as the wireless was switched off again. ‘Now, where’s my money?’

  8

  THE PARTY TOOK PLACE a few nights later at the Bentley home on Tavistock Square. Montignac had been surprised to receive the invitation but, on a whim, he decided to accept it but showed up late, just after ten o’clock at night. Jane had invited quite a few friends, as much a display to the world that there would be no more scandal attached to their name as a show of support for their son, who had been released and had returned home a few hours after Dr Cawley, the coroner, had delivered his crucial evidence.

  The front door was open and there were a few people drinking wine and chatting loudly to each other in the hallway when he arrived. He stepped inside and looked around for someone he recognized but the hosts were lost within their phalanx of friends. Before setting forth into the mass of party guests he turned to his left and ascended the stairs in search of a bathroom. Emerging a few minutes later he caught sight of Gareth Bentley through a half-open door, walking around his room slowly before stopping and sitting on the bed. He watched for a few moments before crossing the corridor and tapping gently on the door. It opened a little more as he did so, revealing a young man of exhausted and desolate appearance.

  ‘Owen,’ said Gareth, looking up in surprise.

  ‘Hello, Gareth. How are you?’

  He shrugged and stood up, stepping over to close the door behind him to stop anyone else coming in. ‘I didn’t know you’d be here,’ he said.

  ‘Your mother invited me. I was a little surprised myself, to be honest, but I thought I’d drop in and say hello. Relieved it’s all over?’

  Gareth stared at him and Montignac was sure that he could see the beginnings of tears in his eyes. He opened his mouth to reply but then simply shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed instead; Montignac pulled over a chair and sat opposite him.

  ‘The whole thing,’ began Gareth, ‘has been a nightmare from start to finish. I still can’t believe it’s all over.’

  ‘Well it is,’ said Montignac. ‘You don’t have to worry any more. You can put it behind you.’

  ‘I don’t know that I can,’ he replied. ‘You have no idea what it was like in there. And every night, thinking about what might happen to me—’

&nbs
p; ‘There’s nothing to be gained by that. Just get on with your life, that’s all.’

  He nodded but seemed unconvinced. ‘I feel I owe you an enormous apology, Owen,’ he said in a quiet voice after a few moments. Montignac raised an eyebrow in surprise.

  ‘An apology? For what?’

  ‘Well for dragging you into this business. If I hadn’t got so drunk that night—’

  ‘Then it might have been me fighting for my life in court. And I mightn’t have been so lucky. Let’s just say all’s well that ends well.’

  Gareth shook his head, wanting to say more. His hands were trembling slightly and Montignac could see how much weight he had lost over the previous couple of months. His hair had flecks of grey in it too; his entire youthful carefree appearance had been sapped by his experience.

  ‘You’ve been a very good friend to me, Owen,’ said Gareth. ‘Standing up there and admitting all about your debts. It must have been humiliating.’

  ‘It wasn’t the proudest moment of my life,’ he admitted.

  ‘And you did that for me. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.’

  ‘Then don’t. I think it’s best we both move on from this, don’t you?’

  ‘I wondered about my job,’ said Gareth in a nervous voice, looking up at Montignac hopefully.

  ‘What, you mean at the gallery?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘To be honest, Gareth, I’m thinking about getting out of the gallery business. I’ve been there too long as it is. I’m a young man still, I feel there might be other ways to make a living. More profitable ways.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Gareth, a little downcast. ‘Mother says I have to settle down. I’m not to go into the law, Father’s turned against that for some reason. But apparently they’ve talked to Jasper Conway’s father and I’m to take a position at the bank.’

  ‘Sounds very sensible,’ said Montignac cheerfully.

  ‘You don’t think … well, whatever it is you decide to do next, that is … you don’t think I could perhaps—’

  The door opened suddenly and they both looked up to see Jane Bentley standing there; she froze, her face a mixture of astonishment and unhappiness at seeing them together.

  ‘Mr Montignac,’ she said. ‘You made it then.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, standing up and shaking her hand. ‘I thought I’d call in to see how Gareth was getting along.’

  Her jaw seemed to go rigid slightly as she glared at him and then turned to look at her son. ‘He’s doing fine,’ she said. ‘And he will get better in time just as soon as we can all put this wretched business behind us.’

  Montignac nodded; there was an uncomfortable atmosphere in the air. Gareth was barely able to look up from his position on the bed.

  ‘I wonder if I might have a word with you, Mr Montignac,’ said Jane. ‘In private? Downstairs in the study?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Montignac.

  They stared at each other for another few moments. ‘You’ll follow me down then?’ said Jane.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Let me just say goodbye to your son.’

  She seemed unwilling to make a scene so nodded and turned to Gareth. ‘You need to go downstairs and mingle with people, Gareth,’ she said. ‘They’re all here to wish you well.’

  ‘I didn’t invite them,’ he said petulantly.

  ‘No, but I did. So please go and say hello to them.’ She turned and made her way through the door. ‘Mr Montignac,’ she added before walking away. ‘I’ll see you in a few moments.’

  When she was gone, Gareth looked up and narrowed his eyes. The tears were definitely there now, Montignac could see the glazed expression and how hard the boy was trying to hold them back.

  ‘I didn’t want a party,’ he muttered. ‘I can’t believe she invited all these people. I didn’t want anyone around me.’

  ‘I better go downstairs,’ said Montignac, anxious to be gone now. ‘I’m glad to see you’re well anyway, Gareth. I hope things work out for you.’

  ‘So that’s a no then?’ he blurted out quickly, before he could stop himself.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘I said, it’s a no? You won’t … take me with you. To whatever you do next.’

  Montignac stared at him and allowed himself a small smile. ‘I’m sorry, Gareth,’ he said. ‘I think it’s best we part company here, don’t you?’ He hesitated and looked around to make sure that no one else was listening. ‘You might think I’m something special, you know,’ he said quietly, feeling a little sad even as he uttered the words. ‘But I’m not really. I’m nothing really, Gareth. You’re probably ten times the man that I am.’

  Gareth stared at him. ‘A few months ago I was talking to Alexander Keys,’ he said. ‘Just before I came to ask you for a job. And I told him that the thing I most dreaded in the world, the thing that kept me awake at night, was the idea that five years from now I’d be doing something I didn’t want to do, be with someone I didn’t want to be with, just because I was too frightened to actually be the man that I really am. I told him that if that happened, well then I’d rather be dead.’

  Montignac looked at him and for a moment an image of his cousin, Andrew, came into his head on the morning that he was killed. He shook it away and turned around, walking back out on to the landing.

  ‘Take care, Gareth,’ he said, walking away without looking back.

  * * *

  ‘MR MONTIGNAC,’ SAID JANE as he entered the study. ‘Finally.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Montignac. ‘Thank you for inviting me by the way.’

  She shrugged her shoulders and turned to the other man in the room. ‘You know Sir Quentin Lawrence, don’t you?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course,’ said Montignac, surprised and unsettled to see him there, but shaking his hand nonetheless. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Very well,’ said Sir Quentin. ‘We won and that’s what counts.’

  ‘You must be very relieved,’ said Montignac, accepting the glass of wine that Jane offered him. ‘But I can’t stay very long, I’m afraid. I thought I’d just put in an appearance and then leave.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Jane. ‘But before you go, I wanted to thank you.’

  ‘There’s really no need.’

  ‘Oh I think there is. Don’t you, Sir Quentin?’

  ‘If you hadn’t said what you said on the stand it would have been more difficult, certainly,’ he replied.

  Montignac nodded. For two people who were apparently showing their appreciation, there was a distinctly chilly atmosphere in the room. Jane, particularly, was looking at him with contempt.

  ‘I’m just happy to have been of help,’ replied Montignac with a polite nod of his head.

  ‘But there’s just one other thing I need you to do for me,’ she said. ‘If we haven’t asked too much already. It’s about Gareth. Has he spoken to you about coming back to work?’

  ‘I’ve told him it’s a nonstarter.’

  ‘Good. Because I couldn’t allow that.’

  Montignac opened his mouth in surprise, not sure he wanted to be insulted by a woman who had made it clear she would sell herself to him for the cost of a perjury. ‘Really,’ he said. ‘And might I ask why not?’

  ‘I don’t think you really need to, do you?’

  ‘What Lady Bentley is saying,’ said Sir Quentin, stepping in now, ‘is that we would prefer it if you stayed as far away from Gareth as possible from now on. Do you know how many years I’ve been a barrister, Mr Montignac?’

  ‘Quite a few, I would imagine.’

  ‘Quite a few, indeed,’ he said, with a slight laugh. ‘That’s one way of putting it. But do you know what the most important thing I’ve learned over that time is?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How to spot a guilty man. That’s what. I had no hesitation defending Gareth Bentley, Mr Montignac. It was clear to me that he had made many mistakes but that he hadn’t killed anyone. When I put him on the stand, I could tell he wasn’t a murderer. Not that
I could say that about everyone I put on the stand. Not in this case,’ he added.

  Montignac breathed heavily through his nose and placed his glass down on the desk. ‘I think I better be going,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll find a way to prove it,’ said Jane, stepping close to him. ‘Do you understand me? If I ever hear that you’ve even so much as glanced in my son’s direction again, I’ll find a way to prove it. If you’re seen walking down the same street as him, I’ll find a way to prove it. You stay away from him from now on, you understand me? You have nothing more to do with him.’

  ‘That was always my intention anyway,’ said Montignac.

  ‘Then this is the last time we’ll meet,’ she said. ‘You leave us alone and we’ll leave you alone.’

  Montignac considered challenging her—it wasn’t often that someone faced up to him like this—but the sensible thing to do was to nod his head graciously and turn around and leave, closing the door quietly behind him.

  * * *

  JANE LEFT THE STUDY herself a few minutes later and was surprised to see the figure of her husband, standing alone in the kitchen. She sighed, wishing her entire family could just gather in one place, where the guests could see them. They had done nothing wrong, she insisted to herself, nothing at all. It was time for life to get back to normal, as if none of this had ever happened. Why did they all have to behave like the villains of the piece?

  ‘Roderick,’ she said, stepping inside. ‘Why aren’t you at the party?’

  ‘I don’t feel particularly festive,’ he said.

  ‘You should. People will start to wonder.’ She came towards him and took his hand. ‘He’s safe, Roderick. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’ve sentenced three young men to death during my time on the bench, Jane,’ he said quietly. ‘Three sons of mothers and fathers like you and me. And I never thought twice about it. Even when pressure was put on me to commute it I stood my ground and protected my integrity. And look how easily it was for sale.’