The Legacy (23 page)

She felt his mouth against her forehead, then he lifted her face and kissed her on the lips. Richard, Richard, she thought in desperation, but then she lost herself and felt nothing but Wallberg's mouth and Wallberg's body. As if he knew her thoughts, he murmured as he held her, ‘He's dead; you're alive. I'm going to help you.'

Then it was over. They stood apart, looking at each other. ‘Oh God,' Christina said. ‘Why did you do that? Why did I let you?'

He smiled. ‘It doesn't matter why. What happens to us can wait; it must wait—you have to win this case first. Are you ready to tell your counsel what you've just told me? And Alan's counsel; he'll have questions too?'

‘No,' Christina didn't hesitate. ‘I don't care for myself; I've nothing to be ashamed of, but I won't bring Belinda into it. I shall deny everything. You're wrong about me Rolf, I can lie and cheat when it comes to my child.'

‘Good,' he answered, ‘that's what you must do: deny everything. And you'll win because the burden of proof is on Alan, and he can't prove anything. If Richard were alive he could demand a DNA test, but he's dead. Go to the meeting; you'll be safe.'

She said, ‘Why did you do that? Why did you make me tell you?'

‘To be sure you wouldn't tell anyone else,' he replied. ‘Once a secret is out, it needn't be repeated. You're prepared; you won't be tripped up now.'

He took a handkerchief and wiped his lips with it. ‘I'll take you to Humfrey.'

The meeting was held in Alan Farrington's solicitor's office in the Gray's Inn Road, and it lasted just under the hour. Christina left first, followed by Humfrey Stone and Rolf Wallberg, brushing past her stepson without a look. He addressed the two counsels and his own solicitor, scowling, hands stuck in his trouser pockets, aggression in every line of his body. The two lawyers, both tall men, emphasized his lack of height.

‘Well, that was a bloody waste of time! She sat there, lying through her teeth, and you let her get away with it.'

He glared at John Cunningham. There was an awkward pause; his solicitor looked embarrassed. Cunningham looked down on his client with evident disdain.

‘The object of the meeting, which, I must remind you, was at your suggestion, Mr Farrington, was to see if there were any grounds for an out of court settlement, not for me to bully your stepmother. She won't get away with anything in the witness box; if she's lying, as you say, I shall discredit her. If you aren't satisfied, then I suggest you find another QC to take the case. Good afternoon.' He nodded to the solicitor. His manner suggested sympathy at his choice of client. ‘Bye, Ronnie, you'll let me know what Mr Farrington decides. Coming Kenneth?' He turned to Ken Hubert.

‘I'll take a lift off you, John.' They left the room together. The solicitor was red-cheeked with anger. He wasn't intimidated by Alan; his firm was famous, prestigious and they could pick and choose whom they acted for.

‘That was a very stupid exhibition, Mr Farrington!'

Alan stared; he wasn't used to being challenged.

‘What the hell do you mean … talking to me like that …?'

‘I mean', the older man said furiously, ‘that you insulted one of the best men at the Bar, and the probability is he won't go on with the case! If you want to act as your own lawyer, then you're going the right way about it. Now let's get this clear, if I can persuade John Cunningham to stay with it, you will keep right out of everything until it comes to court. And when it does, you will say what you're told to say, and you'll keep your personal feelings to yourself. Is that clear?'

Alan had flushed a dark red; he felt explosive inside. The meeting, designed to frighten and expose Christina, had gone the other way; he could feel the atmosphere changing in her favour. His counsel's studied courtesy had infuriated him, another irritant was the foreign lawyer, who never took his eyes off Alan; the stare made him uncomfortable, it was a silent insult. He had a temper that he seldom bothered to control; he had used it as a weapon to cow opposition, to get what he wanted from people weaker or less aggressive than himself, but this was not the method or the man, and he was clever enough to realize it. He couldn't afford to lose the best legal advice that money could buy, and he surprised his solicitor by saying in a quiet voice, ‘I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I made a bloody fool of myself. Do what you can with Cunningham. I'll write to him if you like. It won't happen again.'

He looked at the older man and made an appeal for sympathy that surprised him even more.

‘When I saw that woman sitting there, knowing how she turned my father against me and my brother, how she fooled him, because he was lonely after my mother's death, I lost control of myself. As I said, it won't happen again. She's hurt me and my children so much I can't handle being in the same room with her. I'll keep out of it from now on.'

The switch was unnerving. He seemed suddenly a vulnerable man, driven beyond caution by a terrible wrong. The solicitor actually came up and patted him on the back. He had sons near that age. God knew what parents could do to children, and vice versa. He'd had enough experience of the cruelty inflicted by families on each other.

‘Don't worry, I'll sort it out. And if she has this effect on you, then keeping in the background is the only thing to do. Above all, Mr Farrington, you have to trust us to do our best for you. And believe me, John Cunningham is the best. Is your car outside?'

‘Yes,' Alan said. He held out his hand. ‘Thanks,' he said. ‘I'll see myself out.' The grey Bentley was parked in the courtyard. He got in and switched on, but didn't drive away immediately; he called Fay on the car phone.

‘Darling—how did it go?'

He didn't lie to her. ‘I screwed it up,' he said.

‘How? What happened?'

‘I lost my cool with our counsel. So far as I could see he was pussyfooting round her, and I said so, then he as good as told me to fuck off and find someone else.'

‘Oh, Alan … I should have come with you. Can't you put it right?'

‘I've done my best. I grovelled to that old fart, Ronnie Hamilton, and I promised to keep out of the case. It'll be all right, I expect.' He sounded depressed.

Fay said briskly, ‘Then don't worry about it, let them do the work. Why have a dog and bark yourself?'

He laughed. His spirits, often mercurial, lifted to a new confidence. What a girl. No reproaches, no nagging—wife in a million. ‘How right you are, sweetheart. I'm on my way!'

Christina had paused outside the Gray's Inn office. Humfrey shook her hand.

‘You carried that off very well, Mrs Farrington. I think both counsels were impressed, I know I was.' He looked at Rolf Wallberg for confirmation.

‘It was good,' Rolf said, speaking to Christina. ‘Calm and convincing.'

‘I was so nervous,' she admitted.

‘You didn't show it,' Humfrey insisted. ‘Have you got a car? I have to go on to another meeting. Rolf could get you a taxi.'

‘No,' she said quickly, ‘my car's over there; I'm staying in London. Thank you for the moral support, Humfrey, it was a great help.' Then she turned to Rolf. ‘And thank you,-she said, ‘for all you've done.'

Humfrey said, ‘We'll get on with the paperwork now; we'll need to take statements from you and from your husband's doctor and possibly members of your staff. Also, friends, relatives, anyone who can testify about his state of mind during his illness.' Seeing her confusion, he added, ‘To refute the claim of undue influence. I'm sure that will be the easy part. Goodbye, Mrs Farrington.'

Then he was gone and she and Wallberg faced each other.

‘When can I see you?' he asked. ‘Tonight?'

‘No,' she said. ‘Rolf—I don't want this to happen.'

‘I know, but it has happened and you can't stop it. You can't run away from me, Christa; you need me. If I promise not to touch you …'

‘You promised that before,' she said, ‘and you broke it; so did I. I don't want to have an affair with you; I'd hate myself. There were one or two men who tried while I was married, because of the age gap, I suppose. I never cheated on Richard.'

‘I know that,' he answered. ‘I'll make a deal with you: I'll be your lawyer and your friend till this case is over, after that, I won't promise anything. Does that satisfy you? Will you trust me?'

Christina started towards her car; Rolf walking with her. She opened the door, then she turned to him. ‘Rolf, I don't know if I can trust myself; I don't know how to handle this …'

He touched her mouth with his fingertip. ‘Don't try,' he said, ‘leave it to me. Waiting never hurt anyone; it's said to be good for lovers. I'll come down to RussMore when I've prepared the papers, and I'll stay in the village. I want to kiss you, but I won't. Get in the car.' He slammed the door shut.

He didn't wait; he strode off towards the Strand and Christina drove away. Alone in the flat, she threw off her clothes and went under the shower, turning the water to full pressure as if she could wash herself clean of desire. That fingertip touch on her lips had been so light, so subtle, so arousing that it made her want to seize his hand and kiss the probing fingers one by one. Her image was blurred in the steamed-up mirror, a pale nude form hidden behind a mist. What kind of woman was she, to feel like this about a man she had initially disliked—wanton, repressed, a hypocrite who had convinced herself that she was happy and fulfilled? She dried herself fiercely, until her skin burned. What had he said while he held her?
He's dead; you're alive
… A simple fact, not an excuse. She hadn't gone into the grave with Richard, and trying to bury her feelings and needs had left her vulnerable to this strange man and his powerful sex drive. But with him it was more than desire, it wouldn't end with making love, however exciting, it would only begin. Perhaps that was what she feared. Suddenly, shrilly, so that she jumped in nervous alarm, the telephone rang.

‘Hello? Christa?'

Harry! She'd forgotten about Harry.

‘How'd the meeting go?'

She made an effort to sound calm. ‘Well, I think.'

‘Great, I'll pick you up about eight. You can tell me all about it then.'

He was taking her out to dinner; she had forgotten about that too.

John Cunningham slowed at the traffic-lights leading into the Strand. ‘Drink at the club, Kenneth?'

‘Good idea,' Ken Hubert responded. ‘You certainly put that little prick in his place! Never heard such impertinence!'

‘No skin off my nose if he wants someone else,' Cunningham explained, ‘I've got more work than I can cope with. But I have a feeling he's not as uncomplicatedly nasty as he seems. I thought the lady put on a very polished performance.'

Hubert said, ‘You didn't believe her?' Cunningham laughed.

‘Not for a minute, and I don't believe you did either. She'll make a good impression in the witness box, but so long as I keep Farrington out of it, I think I can dent that. I don't know why I'm telling you my tactics, Ken. Here we are. Good old Garrick, best pink gins in London. Pity they let in women.'

Cunningham made a pretence of chauvinism. In fact he liked the company of women and never underestimated them as opponents at the Bar; he was especially fond of Molly Hubert. He had never married; he wasn't prepared for such a commitment and he took marriage seriously. There was no shortage of lady friends to take out in the evening, and go home with. They went to the bar and ordered their drinks: gin and tonic was Ken's preference, and Cunningham had his pink gin. Ken returned to the subject of Christina Farrington.

‘You know, I'm surprised you thought she was lying,' he said. ‘I actually found her very convincing.'

Which wasn't completely true, Hubert always kept doubts about a client in reserve, then they didn't catch him out.

Cunningham said, ‘There's a stately home and a lot of land involved in this dispute. What woman wouldn't swear black was white to keep it for her daughter? According to the private investigator her stepson employed, she was quite generous with herself as a young girl and right up to the time she met Richard Farrington.'

‘But there's never been a whisper about her since,' Hubert pointed out. ‘Your charming client would have dug up something if she'd been “generous” after marriage. I rather like that description; it has a certain elegance. Do you really intend to take the case? I thought you were inviting him to engage someone else.'

‘I don't think Ronnie will let him; he's a tough bird and I bet he stamped on Mr Farrington with hobnailed boots after we'd gone. Yes, I'll take it, so long as he does what he's told. In fact,' he smiled at his old friend and lifted his glass in salute, ‘I shall enjoy doing battle with you Ken; it's always stimulating. Under that kindly courtroom manner you're a cold-hearted bastard, just like me. I wonder what judge we'll get?'

‘God knows,' Hubert said. ‘I only hope it's not Russell; he's impossible. Goes on and on, picking up on every tiny point. Stephenson would be all right.'

‘Stephenson hates me,' his friend remarked, ‘ever since I caught him out on that judgement and it made the newspapers. But he's fair and he's nobody's fool; he'll see through your pretty Swedish lady if she's what I think she is.'

Hubert looked at him. ‘And that is?'

‘An adventuress who saw an opportunity to grab a rich older man and set herself and her child up for life. Even if she played by the rules afterwards, it doesn't alter the case that if that girl is illegitimate, she can't inherit, and, according to Ronnie, her stepson insists he can prove it. I'm just warning you you're going to lose, that's all. One for the road?'