Be Careful What You Wish For (The Clifton Chronicles) Read online

  “What seems to be the problem, sir?”

  “I don’t want to make a fuss, old chap,” said Alex, “but I bought this jar of Bingham’s Fish Paste the other day—my favorite,” he added, “—and when I got home, I discovered some pieces of glass in it.”

  The manager looked shocked when Alex unscrewed the lid and invited him to examine the contents. He was even more horrified when he dipped his finger into the paste and drew blood.

  “I’m not the complaining type,” said Alex, “but perhaps it might be wise to check the rest of your stock and inform the supplier.”

  “I’ll do that straight away, sir.” He hesitated. “Do you wish to make an official complaint?” he asked nervously.

  “No, no,” said Alex. “I’m sure this is just a one-off, and I wouldn’t want to get you into any trouble.”

  He shook hands with a grateful manager, and was about to leave when the man said, “The least we can do, sir, is give you a refund.”

  Alex didn’t want to hang around, fearing that someone might remember him, but he realized that if he left without collecting the refund the manager might become suspicious. He turned back as the manager, opened the till, took out a shilling and handed it to his customer.

  “Thank you,” said Alex, pocketing the money and heading toward the door.

  “I’m sorry to bother you again, sir, but would you be kind enough to sign a receipt?”

  Alex reluctantly turned back a second time, scribbled “Samuel Oakshott” on the dotted line, the first name that came into his head, then left quickly. Once he had escaped, he took a more circuitous route than he had originally planned to the Angel Hotel. When he arrived, he looked back to make sure no one had followed him. Satisfied, he entered the hotel, went straight to one of the public phone booths and placed twenty one-shilling pieces on the shelf. He took a sheet of paper out of his back pocket and dialed the first number on the list.

  “Daily Mail,” said a voice. “News or advertising?”

  “News,” said Alex, who was asked to wait while he was put through to a reporter on the news desk.

  He spoke to the lady for several minutes about the unfortunate incident he’d experienced with Bingham’s Fish Paste, his favorite brand.

  “Will you be suing them?” she asked.

  “I haven’t decided yet,” said Alex, “but I’ll certainly be consulting my solicitor.”

  “And what did you say your name was, sir?”

  “Samuel Oakshott,” he repeated, smiling at the thought of how much his late headmaster would have disapproved of what he was up to.

  Alex then rang the Daily Express, News Chronicle, Daily Telegraph, The Times and, for good measure, the Bath Echo. His final call before returning to Bristol was to Lady Virginia, who said, “I knew I could rely on you, major. We really must get together some time. It’s always such fun seeing you.”

  He placed the two remaining shillings in his pocket, walked out of the hotel and returned to the car park. On the drive back to Bristol he decided that it might be wise not to visit Bath again in the near future.

  * * *

  Virginia sent out for all the papers the following morning, except the Daily Worker.

  She was delighted with the coverage given to the Bingham’s Fish Paste Scandal (Daily Mail). Mr. Robert Bingham, chairman of the company, has issued a statement confirming that all stocks of Bingham’s Fish Paste have been removed from the shelves and will not be replaced until a full inquiry has been carried out (The Times).

  A junior minister at the Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food has assured the public that an inspection of the Bingham’s factory in Grimsby will be conducted by health and safety officials in the near future (Daily Express). Bingham’s shares fall five shillings in early trading (Financial Times).

  When Virginia had finished reading all the papers, she only hoped that Robert Bingham might guess who had masterminded the whole operation. How much she would have enjoyed having breakfast at Mablethorpe Hall that morning and hearing Priscilla’s views on the unfortunate incident. She checked her watch and, confident that Robert would have left for the factory, picked up the phone and dialed a Lincolnshire number.

  “Dearest Priscilla,” she gushed, “I was just calling to say how dreadfully sorry I was to read about that unpleasant business in Bath. Such bad luck.”

  “How kind of you to call, darling,” said Priscilla. “One realizes who one’s friends are at a time like this.”

  “Well, you can rest assured that I’m always on the other end of the line should you ever need me, and do please pass on my sympathy and best wishes to Robert. I hope he won’t be too disappointed about no longer being in line for a knighthood.”

  28

  EVERYONE STOOD AS Emma took her place at the head of the boardroom table. She had been looking forward to this moment for some time.

  “Gentlemen, allow me to open the meeting by reporting to the board that, yesterday, the company’s share price returned to its high watermark, and our shareholders will be receiving a dividend for the first time in three years.”

  Murmurs of “Hear, hear,” accompanied by smiles on the faces of all the directors except one.

  “Now that we have put the past behind us, let us move on to the future. Yesterday, I received the Department of Transport’s preliminary report on the Buckingham’s seaworthy status. Subject to a few minor modifications, and following the completion of the navigational trials, the department should be able to grant us a full maritime certificate by the end of the month. Once we are in possession of that certificate, the ship will leave Belfast and sail for Avonmouth. It is my intention, gentlemen, to hold the next board meeting on the bridge of the Buckingham, so that we can all be given a tour of the ship, and see at firsthand what we have spent our shareholders’ money on.

  “I know the board will be equally delighted to learn that the company secretary received a call from Clarence House earlier in the week, to say that Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother has agreed to conduct the naming ceremony on September twenty-first. It would not be an exaggeration to suggest, gentlemen, that the next three months will be among the most demanding in the company’s history because, although the first booking period has been a resounding success, with only a few cabins still available for the maiden voyage, it’s the long term that will decide the company’s future. And on that subject I am happy to answer any questions. Admiral?”

  “Chairman, may I be the first to congratulate you, to say, and although there is still some way to go before we reach calm waters, today is certainly the most satisfying I can remember in the twenty-two years I have served on this board. But allow me to move quickly on to what we used to call in the Navy the points of sail. Have you selected a captain from the shortlist of three candidates approved by the board?”

  “Yes, admiral, we have. Our final choice is Captain Nicholas Turnbull RN, who until recently was the first officer on the Queen Mary. We are very lucky to have secured the services of such an experienced officer, and it might have helped that he was born and bred in Bristol. We also have a full complement of officers, many of whom served under Captain Turnbull either in the Royal Navy or, more recently, with Cunard.”

  “What about the rest of the crew?” asked Anscott. “After all, this is a cruise ship, not a battle cruiser.”

  “Fair point, Mr. Anscott. I think you will find that we are well represented, from the engine room to the grill room. There are still a few posts left to fill, but as we are receiving at least ten applications for every position, we are able to be extremely selective.”

  “What is the ratio of passengers to crew?” asked Dobbs.

  For the first time Emma had to refer to a file of notes in front of her. “The breakdown of the crew is twenty-five officers, two hundred and fifty ratings, three hundred stewards and catering staff, plus the ship’s doctor and his nurse. The ship is divided into three classes: first, cabin and tourist. There is accommodation for one