This Was a Man Read online

  He had no interest in film stars he barely recognized, or politicians who were hoping to be recognized, or even Princess Diana, whom everyone recognized. His only interest was in keeping an eye on other bankers and businessmen to see who they were dining with. Deals that it was useful for him to know about were often closed over dinner.

  “Who are you staring at?” asked Samantha, after he didn’t respond.

  “Victor,” he whispered.

  Sam looked around, but couldn’t spot Seb’s oldest friend. “You’re a peeping Tom,” she said after finishing her coffee.

  “And what’s more, they can’t see us,” said Seb.

  “They? Is he having dinner with Ruth?”

  “Not unless she’s lost a couple of inches around her waist and put them on her chest.”

  “Behave yourself, Seb. She’s probably a client.”

  “No, I think you’ll find he’s the client.”

  “You’ve inherited your father’s vivid imagination. It’s probably quite innocent.”

  “You’re the only person in the room who’d believe that.”

  “Now you have got me intrigued,” said Sam. She turned around once again, but still couldn’t see Victor. “I repeat, you’re a peeping Tom.”

  “And if I’m right,” said Seb, ignoring his wife’s remonstration, “we have a problem.”

  “Surely Victor’s got the problem, not you.”

  “Possibly. But I’d still like to get out of here without being seen,” he said, taking out his wallet.

  “How do you plan to do that?”

  “Timing.”

  “Are you going to cause some kind of diversion?” she teased.

  “Nothing as dramatic as that. We’ll stay put until one of them goes to the loo. If it’s Victor, we can slip out unnoticed. If it’s the woman, we’ll leave discreetly, not giving him any reason to believe we’ve spotted them.”

  “But if he does acknowledge us, you’ll know it’s quite innocent,” said Sam.

  “That would be a relief on more than one level.”

  “You’re rather good at this,” said Sam. “Experience possibly?”

  “Not exactly. But you’ll find a similar plot in one of Dad’s novels, when William Warwick realizes the witness to a murder must have been lying, and has to get out of a restaurant unnoticed if he’s going to prove it.”

  “What if neither of them goes to the loo?”

  “We could be stuck here for a very long time. I’ll get the bill,” said Seb, raising a hand, “just in case we have to make a dash for it. And I’m sorry, Sam, but did you ask me something just before I became distracted?”

  “Yes, I wondered if you knew Jessica’s got a new boyfriend.”

  “What gives you that idea?” said Seb, as he checked the bill before handing over his credit card.

  “She never used to care how she looked.”

  “Isn’t that par for the course for an art student? She always looks to me as if she’s been dressed by Oxfam, and I can’t say I’ve noticed any change.”

  “That’s because you don’t see her in the evening, when she stops being an art student and becomes a young woman, and doesn’t look half bad.”

  “The daughter of her mother,” said Seb, taking his wife’s hand. “Let’s just hope the new guy is an improvement on the Brazilian playboy, because I can’t see the Slade being quite so understanding a second time,” he said as he signed the credit slip.

  “I don’t think that will be a problem this time. When he came to pick her up, he was driving a Polo, not a Ferrari.”

  “And you have the nerve to call me a peeping Tom? So when do I get the chance to meet him?”

  “That might not be for some time because so far she hasn’t even admitted she has a boyfriend. However, I’m planning—”

  “Action stations. She’s heading toward us.”

  Seb and Sam went on chatting as a tall, elegant young woman passed their table.

  “Well, I like her style,” said Sam.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Men are all the same. They just look at a woman’s legs, figure, and face, as if they’re in a meat market.”

  “And what does a woman look for?” asked Seb defensively.

  “The first thing I noticed was her dress, which was simple and elegant, and definitely not off the peg. Her bag was stylish without screaming a designer label, and her shoes completed a perfect ensemble. So I hate to disabuse you, Seb, but as we say in the States, that’s one classy dame.”

  “Then what’s she doing with Victor?”

  “I have no idea. But like most men, if you see a friend with a beautiful woman, you immediately assume the worst.”

  “I still think it would be best if we slip out unnoticed.”

  “I’d much rather go over and say hello to Victor, but if you—”

  “There’s something I haven’t told you. Victor and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms at the moment. I’ll explain why once we’re back in the car.”

  Seb stood up and navigated a circuitous route around the restaurant, avoiding Victor’s table. When the maître d’ opened the front door for Samantha, Seb slipped him a five-pound note.

  “So what is it I ought to know about?” asked Sam, once she’d climbed into the car and taken the seat next to him.

  “Victor’s angry because I didn’t make him chief executive.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” said Sam, “but I can understand how he felt. Who did you appoint as CEO?”

  “John Ashley,” said Seb, as he turned into Piccadilly and joined the late-night traffic.

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s the right man for the job.”

  “But Victor’s always been a good and loyal friend, especially when you were down.”

  “I know, but that’s not a good enough reason to appoint someone as the CEO of a major bank. I invited him to be my deputy chairman, but he took umbrage and resigned.”

  “I can understand that,” said Sam. “So what are you doing to keep him on the board?”

  “Hakim flew over from Copenhagen to try and get him to change his mind.”

  “Did he succeed?” asked Sam as Seb halted at a red light.

  * * *

  Giles was dashing out of the chamber to keep an appointment when he saw Archie Fenwick standing outside his office. He didn’t slow down.

  “If it’s about the government’s proposed grain subsidies, Archie, could you make an appointment? I’m already late for the chief whip.”

  “No, it isn’t,” said Archie. “I came down from Scotland this morning in the hope you might have time to discuss a personal matter.” Code for Freddie.

  “Of course,” said Giles, who continued on into his office and said to his secretary, “Make sure I’m not disturbed while I’m with Lord Fenwick.” He closed the door behind him. “Can I get you a whisky, Archie? I even have your own label,” he said, holding up a bottle of Glen Fenwick. “Freddie gave me a case at Christmas.”

  “No, thank you. Although you won’t be surprised that it’s Freddie I’ve come to talk to you about,” said Archie, sitting down on the other side of the desk. “But remembering how busy you are, I’ll try not to take too much of your time.”

  “If you had wanted to discuss the problems facing the Scottish agricultural industry, I can spare you five minutes. If it concerns Freddie, take your time.”

  “Thank you. But I’ll get straight to the point. Freddie’s headmaster called me yesterday evening to say the boy failed his common entrance exam to Fettes.”

  “But when I read his most recent end-of-term report, I even wondered if he might win a scholarship.”

  “So did the headmaster,” said Archie, “which is why he called for his papers. It quickly became clear he’d made no effort to pass.”

  “But why? Fettes is one of the best schools in Scotland.”

  “In Scotland may be the answer to your question,” said Archie, “because he sat a similar exa