Wicked Pleasures (119 page)

He took her to the Palm Court at the Plaza and bought her a wonderful cream tea, which she had amazed herself by wolfing down, and was amazed still more by
the fact that not only did she stop crying, but she started talking to him, and giggling and generally feeling a great deal better. She had forgotten how he could always do that to her: charm her, amuse her into a state of careless, almost reckless happiness. And then somehow it had been much later, almost six o’clock, and they had moved into the Oak Bar and had a bottle of champagne and she had started telling him about Hartest and the Arabs and how she couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear any of it, and if only, if only Fred had been around, none of it need happen, or at least probably need not happen; and Jeremy had said how much did she need, to get her out of the mess, to save Hartest, at least until Fred came home, and she had said six million and he had said dollars or pounds and she had said pounds, and he had told her it was hers, for at least the foreseeable future, for old times’ sake, and because he had been so sorry, so terribly terribly sorry about what had happened and he had missed her and at least this way he would be sure of seeing her occasionally, as he thought he might insist on a stage payment of ten pounds a day or maybe a week, to be delivered personally by her, probably to the studio; and she had said no, no, she couldn’t possibly take that sort of money from him, and he had said nonsense, of course she must, it was nothing to him, nothing at all, or certainly very little, he had made a very serious amount of money only weeks before, having (entirely thanks to some advice from her grandfather) sold a great deal of stock at the top of the market and stashed the money away safely in all kinds of extremely safe and secure places. And then he had added (having seen her face, reading the expression on it) that of course she need have no worries about him and his motives, there were no strings attached whatsoever, except that they might be friends once more and have the occasional cream tea. He was a totally reformed character, he said, his marriage was in a very healthy condition, there was a new little Foster on the way, and he had heard besides that she was very much involved with a charming young man at Praegers, and he was hoping for an invitation to the wedding.

‘You can regard the whole thing as a business deal if you wish,’ he said, ‘we will have the lawyers draw up any number of documents, and when Hartest is safely and unarguably yours again, then you can think about how you would like to repay me.’

And finally, Charlotte had given in, unable to resist the glorious prospect of Hartest being safely and unarguably hers, or rather Alexander’s, and in no danger of any kind from Mr Al-Fabah, or Chuck Drew or Freddy Praeger or even her grandfather.

And then, slightly the worse for rather more than half the bottle of champagne, weak, foolish with relief and happiness, she had been leaving the hotel with him, actually coming out of the door, and Jeremy had had his arm round her, and she had been laughing up at him and kissing him first on one cheek and then on another, and she had looked down to the bottom of the steps and there looking up at her was Gabe Hoffman.

It had been the most terrible row. The worst Charlotte could ever remember. Gabe had told her she was a slut and a whore, and that as far as he was concerned their relationship was over; she had told him he was crazed with jealousy, and arrogant beyond all belief; if he thought she would even consider
continuing in a relationship where trust played no part whatsoever he must be in serious need of psychiatric treatment.

It went on for hours, the pair of them caught in an endless vituperative vortex; finally Charlotte, exhausted, despairing, too angry to feel pain, left, just walked out.

Charlotte was in her small office at the bank one afternoon, trying not to think about life either with or without Gabe, trying to believe the endless frustration and boredom of her working life would one day come to an end, when the phone rang on her desk. It was a call from New York and it was Fred III.

‘Charlotte. Get over here fast, would you? And bring Max with you.’ He spoke as if he was on the other side of London, rather than the Atlantic. ‘I’d like to know what the hell is going on.’

‘Grandpa! I thought you were still on your cruise.’

‘Oh, I got tired of that. Dreadful people. All old. Couldn’t stand them any longer. And your grandmother was worried about you and that house of yours. Quite unnecessarily, I hear.’

‘Yes,’ said Charlotte, ‘yes, it’s fine.’

‘I didn’t like what I heard about that. And I’ve been hearing other things, Charlotte. Things I don’t like at all. I really need an explanation.’

Charlotte told him he would get one.

She and Max booked themselves onto a flight next day. They talked to John Fisher first.

‘Are you with us? If we need you?’

John Fisher went first red, then white. Then he said he was.

‘We’ll ring you,’ said Charlotte.

Fred was in his old office; he looked tanned and well. He was chewing on a new cigar.

‘Sit down,’ he said, gesturing at the chairs opposite the desk, as if they had just walked in from another part of the building, rather than travelled three thousand miles. ‘Do you want coffee?’

‘Yes please,’ said Charlotte. ‘How’s Grandma?’

‘She’s perfectly well. Never better.’

‘Good,’ said Max. Fred glared at him.

They waited, while the coffee was ordered, brought in, poured.

‘OK,’ said Fred. ‘Let’s start with the house. Is it true Jeremy Foster gave you the money to clear the loan? That you went whining to him?’

‘No,’ said Charlotte.

‘Oh?’

‘I didn’t go whining to him, and he didn’t give me the money. It’s a business arrangement and –’

‘Oh really? And how do you propose to pay back such a sum? For God’s sake, Charlotte, have you no sense of any kind? First you compromise yourself and the bank’s good name, by becoming the mistress of a major client –’

‘Grandpa, that’s not –’

‘Be quiet. You had an affair with Jeremy Foster. It was an appalling thing to do. Appalling. And now, just as people might be beginning to forget about it, you re-establish the relationship.’

‘Grandpa, I didn’t.’

‘Oh really? I heard, from a fairly reliable source, that you were seen coming out of the Plaza Hotel with him. Behaving in a fairly indiscreet way.’

‘Yes but –’

‘And the next thing I hear is that you hand over his draft for six million pounds. It is almost beyond belief, Charlotte. I’ve told Chuck Drew to repay the money into Foster’s bank account. I will not have it.’

‘What? You did what?’

‘You heard me. The money is going back.’

‘But it can’t. It’s nothing to do with you. Grandpa, that is so unfair.’

‘I think it’s perfectly fair and it has a great deal to do with me. I will not have the reputation of the bank compromised. I find it almost incomprehensible that you should feel it is perfectly acceptable to take money on such a vast scale from a major client. I have to tell you that any faith I might have had in you has been severely shaken.’

Max was very white. He stared at Fred in silence for a while and then said, ‘Grandpa, let’s talk about some other trust that might be shaken. Let’s talk about your grandson for a start. Do you know what he’s been doing to Praegers? Putting it on the line, that’s what. Underwriting money that he has no right to, in order to promote deals and clients in which he has a vested interest. Do you know how much Praegers lost in the crash? Personally, unnecessarily, not through client companies losing money. Around one hundred million.’

‘Oh for God’s sake,’ said Fred. ‘I’ve looked at the portfolio. You’re talking nonsense.’

‘You mean the hundred million’s gone back. Well, you might take a look at what’s been going on here then,’ said Max. ‘I have a very shrewd suspicion some large transfers have been made.’

‘I will,’ said Fred, and he put out a finger and stabbed on the intercom. ‘Get Chris Hill in here, will you? You’d better know what you’re talking about,’ he said to Max, ‘or you could be up on some very nasty charges indeed. And don’t think the fact you’re my grandson will help you, because it won’t.’

Chris Hill came in looking very calm, very in control.

Yes, he said, he had made certain transfers to London. They had been well within his discretion, and had merely been designed to protect London in the uneasy days after the crash. Freddy had been perhaps slightly reckless, but he had only been acting from an excess of enthusiasm. He did not believe Fred III would find anything seriously untoward in the management of any of the accounts.

‘You will,’ said Charlotte, when Chris Hill had gone. ‘You’ll find plenty. Salesmen have been victimized. We have actual evidence. From one of those salesmen.’

‘Oh really? A friend of yours no doubt?’

‘Yes, a friend,’ said Max, ‘but an employee of Praegers long before we even
knew him. I’ll get him on the phone for you, right now. He’ll tell you.’

Fred looked, for the first time, uncertain. Then he said, ‘Maybe later.’

‘Grandpa,’ said Charlotte, ‘a lot of bad things have been going on. Honestly. Sharp practices, things you’d never tolerate. Buying up huge blocks of shares, to push the price up, before the clients bought them, insider trading. Even, we think –’ She stopped, too afraid suddenly to go on.

‘Even what?’

‘Oh – more of the same.’

‘And what have you been doing all this time? I have heard very little evidence of your making much impression on things.’

‘Grandpa, I haven’t been allowed to do anything. I’m back on grunt work.’ She looked at him and tried to smile. ‘Honestly. It’s been – difficult.’

‘Ah,’ said Fred. ‘So now we come to it.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘You’ve been feeling sorry for yourself. Jealous. Resentful. A very good hotbed for nurturing dangerous fantasies. Good God, Charlotte, I’m shocked at you. It’s pathetic. Time you grew up a little.’

‘Grandpa, they are not fantasies. Please talk to John Fisher. Please.’

‘Oh, John Fisher. Is that your victimized salesman?’

‘Yes it is.’

Fred hesitated. Then he said, ‘No, I really don’t think it’s necessary. It’s all very clear to me. I think you’d both better get out. Go back to London. I don’t know quite what I’m going to do about you. About your futures. But I certainly need time to think. And you’d better tell that father of yours to get out of Hartest. It’s back on the market.’

‘Grandpa, you can’t do that. You can’t. It’s his home.’ Angry at herself, Charlotte felt tears at the back of her eyes.

‘Indeed? I seem to remember a fairly substantial little shack in London. I don’t see him quite on the streets. Now if you would be good enough to excuse me, I have a great deal to do.’

‘What do you think they did?’ said Charlotte. ‘How do you think they put the money back?’

They were sitting in a taxi, driving back to Kennedy. Charlotte was stunned, numb with shock. She knew she should have been angry, outraged, but she couldn’t feel anything. Not even a confrontation with Gabe Hoffman in the corridor when he had stared at her stony-faced and then turned on his heel had pierced her feelings. Max, white-faced beside her, had not said a word since they left Pine Street.

‘God knows. God knows. I could try finding out from Shireen. But what good would it do? He’s blind. He’s crazy.’

‘He’s dangerous,’ said Charlotte, ‘the whole situation is dangerous.’

‘Who for? Not us. I fancy our time as employees of Praegers is over. At least we won’t have to worry any more.’

‘What about Hartest? We have to worry about that.’

‘I’m not at all sure he can make us pay the money back.’

‘That is, if they’ve cleared the cheque,’ said Charlotte.

‘Shit,’ said Max.

Chuck Drew had not cleared the cheque. He told them, smiling his most charming and regretful smile, that he had been so busy, he had failed to present it until the day before. And now Fred had specifically requested that he withdrew it.

‘I would hate to jeopardize our relationship with our most important client,’ he said, ‘and your grandfather feels very strongly about it. Our relationship with Mr Al-Fabah has also been a little strained, so if he feels that a purchase of Hartest House may now after all be possible, then we shall be oiling a great many wheels all at the same time.’

‘We’ve got to do something,’ said Max. ‘We’ve got to. Before we all sign on with the Social Security. I’m going to talk to Shireen. She’s our last hope.’

He called Charlotte at home two nights later, sounding excited. ‘Got him,’ he said, ‘I think.’

‘How? Why?’ said Charlotte.

‘Apparently the money was put back by way of recalled loans and interest payments, things like that.’

‘So?’

‘So they were from the Swiss company.’

‘God. How did you find out?’

He hesitated. ‘Don’t tell Angie. I had to promise to take Shireen to Paris for the weekend. With her mum.’

‘Oh Max. Honestly.’

‘It’s all very well,’ said Charlotte later, ‘but how do we get Grandpa to believe that?’

‘We have to get my little bird to sing. He’ll believe her.’

‘Why should he?’

‘Simply because she doesn’t really understand what she’s saying.’

‘And how will you get her to do it in the first place?’

‘Oh, I’ve got an idea,’ said Max.

Charlotte sat and listened while he got on the phone to Jake Joseph. And while he told Jake that if he could get Shireen a job as a dealer, as an assistant, as anything, even if it was only going to last for a week, he would do anything, anything in the world for him he liked.

‘She’s not stupid,’ he kept saying, ‘she’s very quick. She might even be good at it. Shit, Jake, my whole life depends on it. I’ll be your friend for life. I’ll invest all my money in Mortons. I’ll get you membership of Les A. I’ll take you to Paris with Shireen and her mum. Please. For old times’ sake. Go on, you bastard, you know you can do it.’

Finally, after nearly half an hour, Max grinned into the phone.

‘You’re a hero. Yes, you are. And yes, I’ll arrange a dinner with her. I’ll arrange a dozen. Yeah. Thanks, Jake. You’re a true friend.’