This Was a Man Read online

  “Congratulations, Giles,” said Seb. “We’ll look forward to your next report. Perhaps now we should move on to item number three.” But his mind began to wander again as he considered the only item that would be on the agenda when he later had a private meeting with his deputy chairman. Although he had to admit that Victor looked a damn sight more relaxed than he felt.

  Seb was relieved when the company secretary finally asked, “Any other business?”

  “Yes,” announced Victor, from the far end of the table. Seb raised an eyebrow. “Some of my colleagues may have been wondering where I’ve been for the past ten days, and I feel I owe you all an explanation.” Certainly three of the directors agreed with him.

  “When I became deputy chairman,” Victor continued, “among the responsibilities the chairman gave me was to look into how the bank dealt with its charitable donations. I’m bound to say I assumed that would not be a demanding task. However, I couldn’t have been more wrong. I quickly discovered that the bank simply doesn’t have a policy, and that by the standards of our competitors we’re not only found wanting but, frankly, mean. I would not have realized just how mean if Lady Barrington hadn’t approached me to ask for the bank’s support when she was running the marathon. When she produced her list of sponsors, I felt ashamed. She’d raised more money from Barclays, Nat West, and Dr. Grace Barrington than she managed from Farthings Kaufman. That also caused me to take a greater interest in the charity she was supporting.”

  The deputy chairman had captured the attention of the entire board.

  “The charity concerned sends missions to Africa where its distinguished heart surgeon, Dr. Magdi Yacoub, operates on young children who would otherwise have no hope of survival.”

  “What exactly is a mission?” asked Mr. Whitford, who had been writing down the deputy chairman’s every word.

  “A mission comprises five people—a surgeon, a doctor, two nurses, and a manager, all of whom give their services for nothing, often sacrificing their holidays to carry out this vital work. Lady Barrington suggested I meet a Miss Candice Lombardo, who is an active member of the charity’s board, so I invited her to join me for dinner.” Victor smiled at the chairman.

  “Why do I know that name?” asked the company secretary.

  “Miss Lombardo,” said Clive Bingham, “was voted the most desirable woman on the planet by the readers of GQ magazine and, if the tabloids are to be believed, she’s currently having a fling with Omar Sharif.”

  “I have no idea if that’s true,” said Victor. “All I can tell you is that when we had dinner, it quickly became clear how committed she was to the cause. Miss Lombardo invited me to join her on a trip to Egypt to witness firsthand the work Dr. Yacoub and his team were carrying out in that country. That’s where I’ve been for the past ten days, chairman. And I confess, I spent much of my time either fainting or being sick.”

  “The deputy chairman fainted?” said Clive in disbelief.

  “On more than one occasion. I can assure you, watching a young child having their chest cut open isn’t for the fainthearted. By the time I got on the plane to come home, I was resolved to do more, a great deal more. As a result of that trip, I will be recommending to the board that we take on the role of being the charity’s bankers, with no charges. I have already agreed to become its honorary treasurer.”

  “To use your words, a great deal more,” said Seb. “What else can the bank do to help?”

  “We could start by making a substantial contribution to the Marsden charitable trust, so they can continue their work without having to live from hand to mouth.”

  “Do you have a sum in mind?” asked Giles.

  “Half a million a year for the next five years.” There were one or two gasps from around the table before Victor continued, “Which I know the board will be pleased to learn qualifies for forty percent tax relief.”

  “How do you think our shareholders will react to us giving such a large amount to charity?” asked John Ashley.

  “If Mr. Kaufman were to address the AGM,” suggested Seb, “I suspect they’d say it isn’t enough.”

  One or two of the board members nodded, while others smiled.

  “But we would still have to explain how the money is being spent,” said the company secretary. “After all, that would be no more than our fiduciary duty.”

  “I agree,” said Victor, “and if I am allowed to address our shareholders on the subject at the AGM, I’m sure I wouldn’t need to remind them that recently the bank made over eleven million pounds on the Harrods takeover by Mr. Al Fayed. However, I must confess that without the board’s approval, I made a down payment on a property in South Parade behind the Royal Marsden, so the charity can set up its headquarters near the hospital. I was able to pick it up at a knockdown price, because the premises had previously been used by an escort agency.”

  “Why didn’t you give the board advance notice of the purchase?” asked Seb. “A phone call would have been quite sufficient, so our executive directors could have discussed your proposal before today’s board meeting. Instead, you appear to have presented us with a fait accompli.”

  “I apologize, chairman, but I failed to mention that Princess Diana, a friend of Dr. Yacoub’s, was also on the trip to Egypt, and we were asked by her security team not to reveal our location or the names of anyone else on the trip.”

  “Quite right,” said Giles. “We don’t need to telegraph the IRA.”

  “And I assumed,” continued Victor, looking directly at Seb, “that if a real emergency were to arise, you wouldn’t have hesitated to call my wife, the one person who knew exactly where I was.”

  Three of the directors nodded in agreement.

  “Finally,” said Victor, “I know you’ll all be delighted to hear that Professor Yacoub will be holding a press conference at the Marsden next Thursday to announce that Princess Diana has agreed to be the charity’s patron.”

  “Bravo,” said Clive. “That can only be good for the bank’s image.”

  “That’s not my sole purpose for wanting to support such a worthwhile cause,” said Victor sharply.

  “Possibly not,” said Arnold, “but while the chancellor is still thrashing about, it won’t do us any harm.”

  “Perhaps you’d write up a proposal for our consideration at next month’s board meeting,” said Seb, “and distribute it early enough for us to give it some serious thought.”

  “I drafted an outline summary while I was circling above you this morning, chairman, and once I’ve completed it, I’ll send copies to all board members.”

  Several directors were nodding, as Victor closed the file in front of him.

  “Thank you,” said Seb. “Now all we have to decide is the date of the next meeting.”

  Diaries were consulted and, once a date had been agreed, Seb brought the meeting to a close.

  “Could you spare me a moment, Victor,” he said, as he gathered up his papers.

  “Of course, chairman.” Victor followed Seb out of the room, down the corridor, and into the chairman’s office. He was just about to close the door behind him when he noticed that John Ashley and Arnold Hardcastle were following close behind.

  Once all four of them were seated around the oval table, Seb tentatively began by saying, “One or two of us became quite concerned, Victor, when during your absence three checks were presented for clearance by a Miss Lombardo, whom Arnold, John, and I had never heard of.”

  “Never heard of?” said Victor. “Which planet have you been living on?”

  When none of them attempted to defend themselves, the penny dropped.

  “Ah,” he said, looking like a man who had a straight flush, “so you all assumed—”

  “Well, you must try to see it from our perspective,” said Arnold defensively.

  “And to be fair,” said Victor, “I don’t suppose Miss Lombardo makes the front page of The FT that often.”

  The other three directors burst out laughing.