Be Careful What You Wish For: The Clifton Chronicles 4 (17 page)

‘Where to, guv?’

‘Can’t be sure, don’t know where the lady lives,’ said Sebastian, giving the cabbie a wink. He turned to see Amy running towards the cab, and quickly opened the back door
so she wouldn’t get soaked. She slid into the seat, and he was just about to join her when a voice behind him said, ‘Thank you, Clifton. Good of you to find my wife a taxi in this
dreadful weather.

‘See you tomorrow,’ added the professor as he pulled the cab door closed.

‘G
OOD MORNING
, Mr Morita. What a pleasure to meet you,’ said Cedric, giving a smart nod.

‘And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Hardcastle,’ he ventured, returning the compliment. ‘May I introduce my managing director, Mr Ueyama?’ He in turn stepped
forward and bowed respectfully. Cedric nodded again. ‘And my private secretary, Mr Ono,’ who bowed even lower, but, once again, Cedric only gave a curt nod.

‘Please have a seat, Mr Morita,’ said Cedric, and then waited for his guest to sit down before he took his place behind his desk. ‘I hope you had a pleasant flight?’

‘Yes, thank you. I was able to catch a few hours’ sleep between Hong Kong and London, and it was most considerate of you to send a car and your personal assistant to meet us at the
airport.’

‘My pleasure. And is your hotel comfortable?’

‘Very satisfactory, thank you, and most convenient for the City.’

‘I’m delighted to hear that. So, shall we get down to business?’

‘No, no, no!’ said Sebastian, jumping up. ‘No Japanese gentleman would consider discussing business until he has been offered tea. In Tokyo, the tea ceremony would be conducted
by a geisha and can last for thirty minutes or more, depending on how senior you are. Of course, he may turn the offer down, but he will still expect you to make it.’

‘I forgot,’ said Cedric. ‘A foolish mistake and I won’t make it on the day. Thank heavens you’ll be there to rescue me if I do.’

‘But I won’t be able to,’ said Sebastian. ‘I’ll be sitting at the back of the room with Mr Ono. We’ll be making notes of your conversation, and neither of us
would ever consider interrupting our masters.’

‘So when am I allowed to talk to him about business?’

‘Not until Mr Morita has taken the first sip of his second cup of tea.’

‘But during the pre-business chat, should I mention my wife and family?’

‘Not unless he raises the subject first. He’s been married to Yoshiko for eleven years, and she occasionally accompanies him on his trips abroad.’

‘Do they have any children?’

‘He has three young children: two sons, Hideo, aged six, and Masao, four, and a daughter, Naoko, who’s only two.’

‘Am I allowed to tell him that my son is a barrister and has recently become a QC?’

‘Only if he raises the subject of his own children first, which is most unlikely.’

‘I understand,’ said Cedric. ‘Or at least I think I do. Do you think the chairmen of the other banks will be taking this much trouble?’

‘They’d better be, if they want the contract as much as you do.’

‘I’m very grateful, Seb. So how’s your Japanese coming along?’

‘It was going well until I made a complete fool of myself and tried to pick up the professor’s wife.’

Cedric couldn’t stop laughing when Sebastian gave him a blow-by-blow account of what had happened the previous evening. ‘Soaked, you say?’

‘To the skin. I don’t know what it is with me and women, because I don’t seem to have the same pulling power as the other lads in the bank.’

‘I’ll tell you about the other lads,’ said Cedric. ‘Once they’ve got a couple of pints in them, they’d have you believe they give James Bond lessons. And I
can tell you, with most of them, it’s all talk.’

‘Did you have the same problem when you were my age?’

‘Certainly not,’ said Cedric. ‘But then I met Beryl when I was six, and I haven’t looked at another woman since.’

‘Six?’ said Sebastian. ‘You’re worse than my mother. She fell for my dad when she was ten, and after that the poor man never had a chance.’

‘Neither did I,’ admitted Cedric. ‘You see, Beryl was the milk monitor at Huddersfield primary, and if I wanted an extra third of a pint . . . bossy little thing. Still is,
come to think of it. But I’ve never wanted anyone else.’

‘And you’ve never even looked at another woman?’

‘Looked, yes, but that’s as far as it goes. If you’ve struck gold, why go in search of brass?’

Sebastian smiled. ‘So how will I know when I’ve struck gold?’

‘You’ll know, my boy. Believe me, you’ll know.’

Sebastian spent the last two weeks before Mr Morita’s plane was due to touch down at London Airport attending every lecture Professor Marsh had on offer, never once so
much as glancing back at his wife. In the evening, he returned to his uncle Giles’s home in Smith Square, and after a light supper, when he abandoned his knife and fork in favour of
chopsticks, he would return to his room, read, listen to tapes and regularly bow in front of a full-length mirror.

The night before the curtain was due to go up, he felt he was ready. Well, half ready.

Giles was becoming accustomed to Sebastian bowing every morning when he entered the breakfast room.

‘And you must acknowledge me with a nod, otherwise I can’t sit down,’ said Sebastian.

‘I’m beginning to enjoy this,’ said Giles, as Gwyneth walked in to join them. ‘Good morning, my darling,’ he said, as both men rose from their places.

‘There’s a smart Daimler parked outside the front door,’ said Gwyneth, taking a seat opposite Giles.

‘Yes, it’s taking me to London Airport to pick up Mr Morita.’

‘Ah, of course, today’s the big day.’

‘That’s for sure,’ said Sebastian. He drained his orange juice, jumped up, ran out into the corridor and took one more look in the mirror.

‘I like the shirt,’ said Gwyneth, buttering a piece of toast, ‘but the tie’s a little . . . old school. I think the blue silk one you wore at our wedding would be more
appropriate.’

‘You’re right,’ said Sebastian, and immediately dashed upstairs and disappeared into his bedroom.

‘Good luck,’ said Giles as he came bounding back down the stairs.

‘Thank you,’ Sebastian shouted over his shoulder as he headed out of the house.

Mr Hardcastle’s chauffeur was standing by the back door of the Daimler.

‘I think I’ll join you in the front, Tom, as that’s where I’ll be sitting on the way back.’

‘Suit yourself,’ said Tom, climbing in behind the wheel.

‘Tell me,’ said Sebastian as the car turned right out of Smith Square and on to the Embankment, ‘when you were a young man—’

‘Steady on, my lad. I’m only thirty-four.’

‘Sorry. I’ll try again. When you were single, how many women did you, you know, before you were married?’

‘Fuck?’ said Tom.

Sebastian turned bright red, but managed, ‘Yes.’

‘Having trouble with the birds, are we?’

‘In a word, yes.’

‘Well, I’ve no intention of answering that question, m’lud, on account of the fact that it would undoubtedly incriminate me.’ Sebastian laughed. ‘But not as many as
I’d have liked, and not as many as I told my mates I had.’

Sebastian laughed again. ‘And what’s married life like?’

‘Up and down like Tower Bridge. What’s brought all this on, Seb?’ asked Tom as they passed Earl’s Court. ‘Found someone you fancy, have you?’

‘If only. No, it’s just that I’m useless when it comes to women. I seem to blow it whenever I meet a girl I like. I somehow manage to send out all the wrong signals.’

‘Which isn’t that clever when you’ve got everythin’ goin’ for you, is it?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re a good-lookin’ lad, in a toffee-nosed sort of way, well-educated, talk proper, come from a good family, so what more do you want?’

‘But I’m penniless.’

‘Possibly. But you’ve got potential, and girls like potential. Always think they can harness it, turn it to their advantage. So believe me, you won’t have any problems in that
department. Once you get goin’, you’ll never look back.’

‘You’re wasted, Tom, you should have been a philosopher.’

‘None of your cheek, lad. It’s not me what’s got a place booked at Cambridge. ’Cause I tell you what, given half a chance, I’d swap places with you.’

A thought that had never crossed Sebastian’s mind.

‘Mind you, I’m not complainin’. Got a good job, Mr Hardcastle’s a diamond, and Linda’s all right. But if I’d had your start in life, I wouldn’t be a
chauffeur, that’s for sure.’

‘What would you be?’

‘I’d own a fleet of cars, by now, and you’d be callin’ me sir.’

Sebastian suddenly felt guilty. He took so much for granted, never giving a thought to what was going on in other people’s lives, or how privileged they might think he was. He remained
silent for the rest of the journey, having been made painfully aware that birth is life’s first lottery ticket.

Tom broke the silence as he turned off the Great West Road. ‘Is it right we’re picking up three Nips?’

‘Behave yourself, Tom. We’re picking up three Japanese gentlemen.’

‘Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothin’ against the little yellow bastards. Stands to reason doesn’t it, they only went to war ’cause they were told
to.’

‘You’re a historian as well,’ said Sebastian as the car came to a halt outside the airport terminal. ‘Have the back door open and the engine running when you next see me,
Tom, because these three gentlemen are very important to Mr Hardcastle.’

‘I’ll be right ’ere, standin’ to attention,’ said Tom. ‘Even practised my bow, ’aven’t I?’

‘Very low, in your case,’ said Sebastian, grinning.

Although the arrivals board showed that the aircraft was on time, Sebastian was an hour early. He bought a lukewarm coffee from a small, overcrowded café, picked up a
copy of the
Daily Mail,
and read about two monkeys the Americans had sent into space that had just returned safely to Earth. He went to the lavatory, twice, checked his tie in the mirror,
three times – Gwyneth had been right – and walked up and down the concourse countless times rehearsing ‘Good morning, Mr Morita, welcome to England’, in Japanese, followed
by a low bow.

‘Japan Airlines flight number 1027 from Tokyo has just landed,’ announced a prim voice over the loudspeaker.

Sebastian immediately selected a place outside the arrivals gate from where he would have a good view of the passengers as they came out of customs. What he hadn’t anticipated was that
there would be a large number of Japanese businessmen disembarking from flight 1027, and he had no idea what Mr Morita or his colleagues looked like.

Every time three passengers came through the gate together, he immediately stepped forward, bowed low and introduced himself. He managed to get it right the fourth time, but he had become so
flustered that he delivered his little speech in English.

‘Good morning, Mr Morita, welcome to England,’ he said before bowing low. ‘I am Mr Hardcastle’s personal assistant, and I have a car waiting to take you to the
Savoy.’

‘Thank you,’ said Mr Morita, immediately revealing that his English was far superior to Sebastian’s Japanese. ‘It was most considerate of Mr Hardcastle to go to so much
trouble.’