And Thereby Hangs a Tale Read online

  AND THEREBY HANGS A TALE

  Also by Jeffrey Archer

  NOVELS

  Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less

  Shall We Tell the President?

  Kane & Abel

  The Prodigal Daughter

  First Among Equals

  A Matter of Honour

  As the Crow Flies

  Honor Among Thieves

  The Fourth Estate

  The Eleventh Commandment

  Sons of Fortune

  False Impression

  The Gospel According to Judas

  (with the assistance of Professor Francis J. Moloney)

  Prisoner of Birth

  Paths of Glory

  SHORT STORIES

  A Quiver Full of Arrows

  A Twist in the Tale

  Twelve Red Herrings

  The Collected Short Stories

  To Cut a Long Story Short

  Cat O’Nine Tales

  PLAYS

  Beyond Reasonable Doubt

  Exclusive

  The Accused

  PRISON DIARIES

  Volume One: Hell

  Volume Two: Purgatory

  Volume Three: Heaven

  SCREENPLAYS

  Mallory: Walking off the Map

  False Impression

  JEFFREY ARCHER

  AND THEREBY HANGS A TALE

  ST. MARTIN’S PRESS

  NEW YORK

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  AND THEREBY HANGS A TALE. Copyright © 2010 by Jeffrey Archer. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.stmartins.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Archer, Jeffrey, 1940–

  And thereby hangs a tale / Jeffrey Archer.—1st ed.

  p. cm.

  Stories gathered “while on my travels around the world. Ten of them are based on known incidents . . . while the remaining five are the result of my imagination”—Foreword.

  ISBN 978-0-312-53953-5

  I. Title.

  PR6051.R285A84 2010

  823'.914—dc22

  2010021666

  First published in the United Kingdom by Macmillan, an imprint of Pan Macmillan Ltd.

  First U.S. Edition: September 2010

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  For Simon Bainbridge

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would like to thank the following people for their valuable advice and assistance:

  Simon Bainbridge, Rosie de Courcy, Alison Prince, Billy Little, David Russell, Nisha and Jamwal Singh, Jerome Kerr-Jarrett, Mari Roberts, Jonathan Ticehurst, and Brian Wead.

  GRUMIO

  First, know my horse is tired, my master and mistress fallen out.

  CURTIS

  How?

  GRUMIO

  Out of their saddles into the dirt, and thereby hangs a tale.

  CURTIS

  Let’s ha’t, good Grumio.

  The Taming of the Shrew

  IV, i, ll. 47–52.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  During the past six years I have gathered together several of these stories while on my travels around the world. Ten of them are based on known incidents and are marked as in my past collections with an asterisk, while the remaining five are the result of my imagination.

  I would like to thank all those people who have inspired me with their tales, and while there may not be a book in every one of us, there is so often a damned good short story.

  —Jeffrey Archer

  May 2010

  CONTENTS

  1. STUCK ON YOU*

  2. THE QUEEN’S BIRTHDAY TELEGRAM*

  3. HIGH HEELS*

  4. BLIND DATE

  5. WHERE THERE’S A WILL*

  6. DOUBLE-CROSS*

  7. “I WILL SURVIVE”*

  8. A GOOD EYE

  9. MEMBERS ONLY*

  10. THE UNDIPLOMATIC DIPLOMAT*

  11. THE LUCK OF THE IRISH*

  12. POLITICALLY CORRECT

  13. BETTER THE DEVIL YOU KNOW

  14. NO ROOM AT THE INN

  15. CASTE-OFF*

  *Based on true incidents

  STUCK ON YOU*

  1

  Jeremy looked across the table at Arabella and still couldn’t believe she had agreed to be his wife. He was the luckiest man in the world.

  She was giving him the shy smile that had so entranced him the first time they met, when a waiter appeared by his side. “I’ll have an espresso,” said Jeremy, “and my fiancée”—it still sounded strange to him—“will have a mint tea.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Jeremy tried to stop himself looking round the room full of “at home” people who knew exactly where they were and what was expected of them, whereas he had never visited the Ritz before. It became clear from the waves and blown kisses from customers who flitted in and out of the morning room that Arabella knew everyone, from the maître d’ to several of “the set,” as she often referred to them. Jeremy sat back and tried to relax.

  They’d first met at Ascot. Arabella was inside the royal enclosure looking out, while Jeremy was on the outside, looking in; that was how he’d assumed it would always be, until she gave him that beguiling smile as she strolled out of the enclosure and whispered as she passed him, “Put your shirt on Trumpeter.” She then disappeared off in the direction of the private boxes.

  Jeremy took her advice, and placed twenty pounds on Trumpeter—double his usual wager—before returning to the stands to see the horse romp home at 5–1. He hurried back to the royal enclosure to thank her, at the same time hoping she might give him another tip for the next race, but she was nowhere to be seen. He was disappointed, but still placed fifty pounds of his winnings on a horse the Daily Express tipster fancied. It turned out to be a nag that would be described in tomorrow’s paper as an “also-ran.”

  Jeremy returned to the royal enclosure for a third time in the hope of seeing her again. He searched the paddock full of elegant men dressed in morning suits with little enclosure badges hanging from their lapels, all looking exactly like each other. They were accompanied by wives and girlfriends adorned in designer dresses and outrageous hats, desperately trying not to look like anyone else. Then he spotted her, standing next to a tall, aristocratic-looking man who was bending down and listening intently to a jockey dressed in red-and-yellow hooped silks. She didn’t appear to be interested in their conversation and began to look round. Her eyes settled on Jeremy and he received that same friendly smile once again. She whispered something to the tall man, then walked across the enclosure to join him at the railing.

  “I hope you took my advice,” she said.

  “Sure did,” said Jeremy. “But how could you be so confident?”

  “It’s my father’s horse.”

  “Should I back your father’s horse in the next race?”

  “Certainly not. You should never bet on anything unless you’re sure it’s a certainty. I hope you won enough to take me to dinner tonight?”

  If Jeremy didn’t reply immediately, it was only because he couldn’t believe he’d heard her correctly. He eventually stammered out, “Where would you like to go?”

  “The Ivy, eight o’clock. By the way, my name’s Arabella Warwick.” Without another word she turned on her heel and went back to join her set.

  Jeremy was surprised Arabella had given him a second look, let alone suggested they should dine together that evening. He expected that nothing would come of it, but