The Legacy (22 page)

‘Please.' Rolf shed his overcoat. The autumn day was chilly; the skies overcast with rain-clouds. He hated the English climate. He longed for the crisp air of Scandinavia, the bright blue skies, even the blinding cold when it came was less depressing than this surly greyness. Christina would have been trying to reach him. He'd covered his tracks well, given himself time to think and make his final decision: he would stay until the case with Alan Farrington was won or lost.

He looked through the list of callers. She'd left four messages for him, asking him to make contact urgently; the latest was from RussMore. His secretary buzzed through.

‘Mr Wallberg, Mr Humfrey would like to see you if you're free.'

‘I'm on my way,' Rolf told her. Humfrey would ask about New York; he'd lie. Humfrey wouldn't question him too closely because he was Uncle Ruben's protégé.

Humfrey got up to greet him; he didn't like Rolf but he was always polite.

‘How was your trip?'

He was expecting some kind of explanation, and Rolf gave it easily. ‘Frustrating,' he said. ‘Ruben Stone asked me to fly over and see a client who was on a business trip in New York. When I got there he was unavailable for two days. Americans don't give explanations … not to foreign lawyers anyway. I wasted time in the hotel till he was free, and then it was half an hour and goodbye Wallberg, nice to have met with you. But he did give the undertaking Ruben Stone wanted … I've had messages from Mrs Farrington; any developments since I've been away?'

Humfrey said, ‘Farrington's counsel wants a meeting with Ken Hubert and us and the two principals. I suspect Farrington's behind this; it's not normal procedure.'

Kenneth Hubert was their chosen counsel, John Cunningham was Alan's choice; equally distinguished but with very different styles. Humfrey went on, ‘Cunningham's a bully; he'll try to humiliate and harass Mrs Farrington.'

Rolf said quickly, ‘Then she mustn't go.'

‘Not unless Hubert advises it; he knows Cunningham well, I believe they're good friends outside court. He'll handle him if he tries to push her.' He paused and rubbed his nose. It was a habit that irritated Rolf; it was a sign that Humfrey was uneasy. ‘I must say,' he went on, ‘the tactics are not at all what we expected. I thought they'd drag their feet in the hope that she'd be forced to settle because of the costs, but quite the opposite, Farrington is pushing the pace. He wants an early date and a hearing as soon as there's room on the calendar. I can't understand it.'

‘He must think he's certain to win,' Rolf suggested. ‘Does Mrs Farrington know about this suggestion?'

Humfrey shook his head. ‘I only got the papers this morning. I was going to write to her.'

Rolf said, ‘She's asked to see me, so I can prepare her in advance of your letter. Shall I do that?'

‘That's a good idea,' Humfrey said. ‘She's come to rely on you, Rolf; much more than I expected. I really didn't think you were on any kind of wavelength to start with.'

‘We weren't,' he answered, ‘but things change. I've won her confidence; it wasn't easy.' He allowed himself a rare smile. ‘Swedes are very obstinate, and determined.'

‘So I've noticed,' Humfrey remarked. ‘You'll be going to RussMore?'

Rolf hesitated. ‘It might be better if I saw her in the office. I'll see what I can arrange.'

He went back to his office, closed the door and said he wouldn't take calls for the next half an hour. Alan Farrington was pressing ahead. He was very confident, but nothing that had come out so far justified that confidence. He sat there, concentrating, remembering something Christina had said early on, in reply to a question he hadn't asked.

‘I'm not ready to answer such a question.'

Well, he decided, with the document gone, there was no money for a long campaign on her part. If there was something Alan Farrington had discovered that could affect the outcome, she must disclose it now. She came to his mind so vividly that he got up abruptly, disturbed by his feelings. Sex without emotion had been his creed. Now the sex was there, a desire so close to the surface that it surged in him at the thought of her, but emotion was there too; he couldn't separate them any more. He had paid one debt and been burdened with another. He had to win for her, and to achieve that he was prepared to be ruthless, to use any means that might help, whatever the cost. Love, he thought fiercely, even if I loved her, I would hurt her to achieve the end; that had been his creed also, and he had lived by it.

Kenneth Hubert was at the top of his profession. He had taken silk at the early age of forty-two, and already declined the offer to become a judge. He loved the cut and thrust of the courtroom too much to give it up and settle for a place on the bench. He told his wife when she protested, ‘I have no desire to sit in judgement, darling. I like the heat of the battle.'

‘And the money,' she had retorted.

‘And the money,' Kenneth agreed. ‘So do you.'

They had been married young; she was also at the Bar, struggling with criminal law. She was a girl who was always rushing, her new wig slightly askew, her black gown flying; she was pretty, clever and dedicated, and he was enchanted by her. He was making money in a civil law chambers and she was on the breadline taking legal aid cases.

He married her, as she said afterwards, in spite of herself, and they had been happily married for twenty-one years and had two children. Molly Hubert continued to practise until the second baby came; Kenneth knew her too well to suggest she give up. When she reached that conclusion he pretended to be surprised. ‘I can't do justice to my practice and to Tom,' she explained, ‘so I've opted for Tom.'

‘You can always go back,' he assured her. ‘Keep in touch, don't get too rusty, and besides, I need you to help me.' He discussed everything with her. She had a naturally logical brain, whereas he had that slight twist that almost inclined to the criminal. That was what made him so brilliant, that deviant perspective that saw loopholes and weaknesses which others missed.

That evening at the beginning of September, they sat together in their opulent Lowndes Square penthouse, gin and tonics in their hands, and Kenneth outlined the Farrington v. Farrington action. Molly Hubert had skimmed through the brief and now it was time to discuss the details. ‘It's all about greed, isn't it?' she remarked. ‘The stepmother works on her dying husband and grabs everything for her child; the son takes her to court and throws every kind of mud he can think of, and it's greed with him, too.'

‘For once, darling,' he said, ‘you're wrong. It's not greed, it's hate, and that's worse because it can't be bought off. I had a meeting with my client's solicitors; they gave a very clear picture of the stepson: a man who's obsessed with hatred for his father and who has transferred that hatred to his second wife and the innocent eleven-year-old daughter. He's making allegations of undue influence and alleging that the child is illegitimate. Apparently the Swedish lady led a rather colourful life before she married Mr Farrington—lots of free love; it was all the fashion a few years ago.'

‘It's pretty much the fashion here too,' Molly interposed. ‘All the young are in relationships, and none of our generation seem to stay married. I don't think that will count against the stepmother, and how can he prove the child isn't his father's? The father's dead, so there can't be any DNA. He can allege what he likes but he can't prove it.'

Hubert finished his drink. ‘One more? Good, I'll join you.'

‘I'll get it,' she said. ‘You love being waited on; you're spoiled rotten in chambers and I spoil you when you come home.' The smile was as attractive after twenty years as when he first saw it.

‘You know, when I get something like this, I realize just how lucky I am to have you and the boys. Very lucky. John Cunningham is acting for the plaintiff; he'll love this case, it's just what he revels in. I'm going to have to see the client and put some pretty straight questions to her; if she tries to hide anything, John'll skin her alive in the witness box. Farrington's solicitors have suggested a meeting between counsels and the two principals.'

Molly looked at him. ‘They might be prepared to settle?'

‘Not according to our solicitors; they say it's an attempt to intimidate. Farrington used that tactic in a one-to-one with his stepmother, apparently. He sounds a really nasty type.'

‘It always amazes me', she remarked, ‘that someone as nice as John enjoys righting for such awful clients. He's quite schizoid when he gets to court.'

Her husband grinned. ‘He says the same about me, but someone has to defend the bad guys, darling, otherwise there's no justice. Didn't you have the odd villain as a client? And didn't you fight your hardest for them?'

‘Yes I did,' she conceded, ‘but it did help if I thought they
just
might be innocent … I remember one awful brute getting off a murder charge and he came up to thank me. I walked away, I couldn't bear to look at him; he was as guilty as hell.'

She sipped her drink. ‘It wasn't only mother love that made me give up,' she admitted, ‘some of the cases were beginning to get to me. But I'm sure you knew that, you old fox … you never said anything. Anyway, are you going to have this chummy meeting before you start tearing each other's guts out in court?'

He paused. ‘Yes, I think I am. I'll see the Swedish lady in private first, then we'll have an idea of what John's going to throw at us. I want to see the stepson at first hand. How long before dinner?'

‘Not long enough for another gin,' she said firmly. ‘You go and open a nice bottle of wine while I get the food ready. It's your favourite, saltimbocca alla Romana.'

Kenneth got up and sighed happily.

‘Clever, sexy and a brilliant cook … What did I do to deserve you?'

‘God knows,' Molly said sweetly. ‘I keep asking myself the same question.'

He laughed. ‘We should have asked John round, he loves Italian food. I might have pumped him about his tactics.'

‘Like hell,' she retorted. ‘He's as foxy as you are; you're a good pair. Come on, darling, I like a glass of wine while I'm dishing up.'

They had an excellent dinner and settled down to watch their favourite programme on television, about a firm of high-powered American attorneys, all of whom were traumatized by alcohol, debts and inter-office love affairs. It made Kenneth Hubert hysterical with laughter. The Farrington lawsuit was quite forgotten.

‘Sit down, Christina, can I get you some coffee?'

His secretary had shown her in and was waiting by the door. ‘No thanks,' Christina answered. He had suggested a meeting in his office; she was relieved but disconcerted. He had been brief, even curt over the telephone, avoiding any questions, and Christina stifled a treacherous feeling of hurt. He was coldly professional, as if nothing had ever passed between them.

‘I'm very sorry,' he said, ‘I've got bad news. I didn't want to tell you over the phone.'

‘The manuscript? James didn't give it to you?'

‘He couldn't. He was robbed in his flat, and it was in his wall safe; the thief took everything in it, along with cash and personal jewellery. It's true because I checked with the police. It's gone, Christa; probably destroyed. I am so sorry.'

He came round the desk towards her. The mask had slipped; he put a hand on her shoulder, and his pale eyes were gentle. ‘I didn't know how to tell you, after I'd raised your hopes.' Abruptly he went back to his place behind the desk.

Christina said, ‘It's not your fault. It didn't belong to me, so I wouldn't have taken money for it anyway. And please, don't blame yourself, you did everything possible. So what do I do now?'

‘What we do now is get our case ready. Humfrey wants to see you. Your counsel and Alan's counsel want a meeting, with you and him and the solicitors present. I don't want you to agree.'

She said, ‘Why not? If my side advise it, why shouldn't I?'

‘Because of the questions you'll be asked, that's why. Christina, this whole thing will hinge on whether Belinda is Richard's child. Now I'm going to ask you, and you must answer me.'

She stood up. ‘No,' she said, ‘I won't. I can't.'

Suddenly he was beside her; he moved so quickly he caught her by the shoulders before she could back away.

‘Why can't you?'

Tears filled up and overflowed; she put her hands to her face to hide.

‘Why can't you tell me?' he persisted.

‘Because I don't know. I've never known, all these years … I've watched her and seen her grow up like Richard. I've been sure she was his, but I
wanted
to believe it; I've no way of proving it … She's dark,' she went on, ‘like Richard, but so was Jan. Jan was my lover; he left me just before I met Richard. We'd been sleeping together right up until he left the night before … then I made love with Richard. Later I missed my period. How could I know which one had made me pregnant?'

He looked down at her. ‘Did you tell him before he married you?'

‘Yes,' Christina answered. ‘I loved him; he was so good to me, I couldn't have cheated him. I told him he couldn't marry me, as I could be having someone else's child.'

He pulled her close against him; for a moment she stiffened, trying to resist, but he was strong and she hadn't the will. He held her and she felt his hand move on her hair.

‘I was sure,' he said quietly. ‘I was sure you'd told him. You're not a woman who lies or cheats. What did he say?'

‘He said he didn't mind,' Christina whispered. ‘If it was my child, he'd love it as if it were his own. When Belinda was born he just looked at her and said, “She's a Farrington, my darling.” That was all. It was never mentioned again.'