The Endgame Read online

  ‘I didn’t come round for a cup of tea, as I suspect you know only too well, Cornelius. What I want to know is how you managed to fritter away your entire fortune.’ Before her brother could deliver some well-rehearsed lines from his script, she added, ‘You’ll have to sell the house, of course. I’ve always said that since Millie’s death it’s far too large for you. You can always take a bachelor flat in the village.’

  ‘Such decisions are no longer in my hands,’ said Cornelius, trying to sound helpless.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ demanded Margaret, rounding on him.

  ‘Just that the house and its contents have already been seized by the petitioners in bankruptcy. If I’m to avoid going bankrupt, we must hope that the house sells for a far higher price than the estate agents are predicting.’

  ‘Are you telling me there’s absolutely nothing left?’

  ‘Less than nothing would be more accurate,’ said Cornelius, sighing. ‘And once they’ve evicted me from The Willows, I’ll have nowhere to go.’ He tried to sound plaintive. ‘So I was rather hoping that you would allow me to take up the kind offer you made at Millie’s funeral and come and live with you.’

  His sister turned away, so that Cornelius was unable to see the expression on her face.

  ‘That wouldn’t be convenient at the present time,’ she said without explanation. ‘And in any case, Hugh and Elizabeth have far more spare rooms in their house than I do.’

  ‘Quite so,’ said Cornelius. He coughed. ‘And the small loan I advanced you last year, Margaret – I’m sorry to raise the subject, but . . .’

  ‘What little money I have is carefully invested, and my brokers tell me that this is not a time to sell.’

  ‘But the allowance I’ve provided every month for the past twenty years – surely you have a little salted away?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ Margaret replied. ‘You must understand that being your sister has meant I am expected to maintain a certain standard of living, and now that I can no longer rely on my monthly allowance, I shall have to be even more careful with my meagre income.’

  ‘Of course you will, my dear,’ said Cornelius. ‘But any little contribution would help, if you felt able . . .’

  ‘I must be off,’ said Margaret, looking at her watch. ‘You’ve already made me late for the hairdresser.’

  ‘Just one more little request before you go, my dear,’ said Cornelius. ‘In the past you’ve always been kind enough to give me a lift into town whenever . . .’

  ‘I’ve always said, Cornelius, that you should have learned to drive years ago. If you had, you wouldn’t expect everyone to be at your beck and call night and day. I’ll see what I can do,’ she added as he opened the door for her.

  ‘Funny, I don’t recall you ever saying that. But then, perhaps my memory is going as well,’ he said as he followed his sister out onto the drive. He smiled. ‘New car, Margaret?’ he enquired innocently.

  ‘Yes,’ his sister replied tartly as he opened the door for her. Cornelius thought he detected a slight colouring in her cheeks. He chuckled to himself as she drove off. He was learning more about his family by the minute.

  Cornelius strolled back into the house, and returned to his study. He closed the door, picked up the phone on his desk and dialled Frank’s office.

  ‘Vintcent, Ellwood and Halfon,’ said a prim voice.

  ‘I’d like to speak to Mr Vintcent.’

  ‘Who shall I say is calling?’

  ‘Cornelius Barrington.’

  ‘I’ll have to see if he’s free, Mr Barrington.’

  Very good, thought Cornelius. Frank must have convinced even his receptionist that the rumours were true, because in the past her response had always been, ‘I’ll put you straight through, sir.’

  ‘Good morning, Cornelius,’ said Frank. ‘I’ve just put the phone down on your brother Hugh. That’s the second time he’s called this morning.’

  ‘What did he want?’ asked Cornelius.

  ‘To have the full implications explained to him, and also his immediate obligations.’

  ‘Good,’ said Cornelius. ‘So can I hope to receive a cheque for £100,000 in the near future?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Frank. ‘From the tone of his voice I don’t think that’s what he had in mind, but I’ll let you know just as soon as I’ve heard back from him.’

  ‘I shall look forward to that, Frank.’

  ‘I do believe you’re enjoying yourself, Cornelius.’

  ‘You bet I am,’ he replied. ‘I only wish Millie was here to share the fun with me.’

  ‘You know what she would have said, don’t you?’

  ‘No, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.’

  ‘You’re a wicked old man.’

  ‘And, as always, she would have been right,’ Cornelius confessed with a laugh. ‘Goodbye, Frank.’ As he replaced the receiver there was a knock at the door.

  ‘Come in,’ said Cornelius, puzzled as to who it could possibly be. The door opened and his housekeeper entered, carrying a tray with a cup of tea and a plate of shortbread biscuits. She was, as always, neat and trim, not a hair out of place, and showed no sign of embarrassment. She can’t have received Frank’s letter yet, was Cornelius’s first thought.

  ‘Pauline,’ he said as she placed the tray on his desk, ‘did you receive a letter from my solicitor this morning?’

  ‘Yes, I did, sir,’ Pauline replied, ‘and of course I shall sell the car immediately, and repay your £500.’ She paused before looking straight at him. ‘But I was just wondering, sir . . .’

  ‘Yes, Pauline?’

  ‘Would it be possible for me to work it off in lieu? You see, I need a car to pick up my girls from school.’

  For the first time since he had embarked on the enterprise, Cornelius felt guilty. But he knew that if he agreed to Pauline’s request, someone would find out, and the whole enterprise would be endangered.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Pauline, but I’ve been left with no choice.’

  ‘That’s exactly what the solicitor explained in his letter,’ Pauline said, fiddling with a piece of paper in the pocket of her pinafore. ‘Mind you, I never did go much on lawyers.’

  This statement made Cornelius feel even more guilty, because he didn’t know a more trustworthy person than Frank Vintcent.

  ‘I’d better leave you now, sir, but I’ll pop back this evening just to make sure things don’t get too untidy. Would it be possible, sir . . . ?’

  ‘Possible . . . ?’ said Cornelius.

  ‘Could you give me a reference? I mean, you see, it’s not that easy for someone of my age to find a job.’

  ‘I’ll give you a reference that would get you a position at Buckingham Palace,’ said Cornelius. He immediately sat down at his desk and wrote a glowing homily on the service Pauline Croft had given for over two decades. He read it through, then handed it across to her. ‘Thank you, Pauline,’ he said, ‘for all you have done in the past for Daniel, Millie and, most of all, myself.’

  ‘My pleasure, sir,’ said Pauline.

  Once she had closed the door behind her, Cornelius could only wonder if water wasn’t sometimes thicker than blood.

  He sat back down at his desk and began writing some notes to remind him what had taken place that morning. When he had finished he went through to the kitchen to make himself some lunch, and found a salad had been laid out for him.

  After lunch, Cornelius took a bus into town – a novel experience. It was some time before he located a bus stop, and then he discovered that the conductor didn’t have change for a twenty-pound note. His first call after he had been dropped off in the town centre was to the local estate agent, who didn’t seem that surprised to see him. Cornelius was delighted to find how quickly the rumour of his financial demise must be spreading.

  ‘I’ll have someone call round to The Willows in the morning, Mr Barrington,’ said the young man, rising from behind his desk, ‘so we can measure up and take