This Was a Man Read online

  “Sebastian, Jessica, Richard, Lucy, and I will be delighted to join you,” said Samantha, “and finance our own mission.”

  Sebastian looked to the heavens and said, “Joshua Barrington, you’ve got a lot to answer for.”

  “Well done, Karin,” said Emma as she wrote down the details in her red book. “Follow that, Jessica,” she added, smiling at her granddaughter.

  “I’m hoping to be shortlisted for the Turner Prize.”

  “I can’t imagine why,” said Grace. “Turner would never have won the Turner Prize.”

  “That would be quite an achievement, young lady,” chipped in Harry.

  “And if she is,” said Richard, “she’ll be the youngest artist ever to have been shortlisted.”

  “Now that is worth achieving,” said Grace. “What are you working on at the moment?”

  “I’ve just begun a series called The Tree of Life.”

  “Oh, I love trees,” said Emma, “and you’ve always been so good at landscapes.”

  “It won’t be that kind of tree, Grandmama.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Emma, “a tree is a tree.”

  “Unless it’s symbolic,” suggested Harry, smiling at his granddaughter.

  “And what’s your resolution, Grandpops? Is your book going to win the Booker?”

  “Not a hope,” said Grace. “That prize will never be awarded to a storyteller, more’s the pity. But I can tell you all, because I’m the only person in this room who’s read it, that Harry’s latest novel is by far his most accomplished work to date. He’s more than fulfilled his mother’s hopes, so he can take a year off.”

  Harry was taken by surprise. He’d planned to tell the family he’d be having a major operation in January, but that there was no need to worry because he’d only be out of action for a few weeks.

  “What about you, Emma?” said Giles. “Are you planning to be PM by this time next year?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Emma. “But I do intend to be even more of an infidel next year than I was last year,” she added, putting her glass down on the table, and spilling a little wine.

  “What’s an infidel?” asked Jake.

  “Someone who votes Conservative,” said Giles.

  “Then I want to be infidel. But only if Freddie’s an infidel too.”

  “I most certainly am,” said Freddie.

  “I often think it’s comical—

  How Nature always does contrive—

  That every boy and every gal—

  That’s born into the world alive—

  Is either a little Liberal—

  Or else a little Conservative!”

  “Lyricist?” demanded Grace.

  “W. S. Gilbert.”

  “Which operetta?”

  “Iolanthe,” said Freddie, “and as I’m already an infidel, I’ve decided to come up with a new resolution this year.”

  “But you haven’t scored that century at Lord’s yet,” Giles reminded him.

  “I still intend to, but by this time next year, I will have changed my name.”

  Freddie’s unexpected announcement left everyone, even Jake, speechless.

  “But I’ve always liked Freddie,” Emma eventually managed. “I think it rather suits you.”

  “Freddie’s not the name I want to change. From January first, I’d like to be known as Freddie Barrington.”

  The round of applause that followed left Freddie in no doubt that the family approved of his New Year’s resolution.

  “It’s a simple enough procedure,” said Grace, ever practical. “You only have to sign a deed poll and Fenwick will be a thing of the past.”

  “I had to sign a lot more forms to achieve that,” said Giles, shaking hands with his son.

  The phone began to ring and a moment later Markham appeared.

  “It’s Lord Waddington on the phone,” he said.

  “The prince of infidels,” said Giles. “Why don’t you take the call in my study, Emma?”

  “It must be serious for him to call me on New Year’s Eve,” said Emma.

  “The call is not for you, my lady,” said Markham. “He asked to speak to Lord Barrington.”

  “Are you sure, Markham?”

  “Quite sure, my lady.”

  “Then you’d better go and find out what he wants,” said Emma.

  If Jessica and Freddie had caused silence, a phone call from the leader of the Lords caused the rest of the family to all start talking at once. They didn’t fall silent until the door opened and their host reappeared. They all looked at him in anticipation.

  “Well, that’s sorted out my New Year’s resolution,” was all Giles had to say.

  * * *

  “You’re going to have to tell them at some point,” said Emma, as she and Harry walked back to the Manor House early the next morning.

  “I’d intended to yesterday afternoon, but Grace rather upstaged me, not to mention Freddie and Giles.”

  “Giles couldn’t hide how delighted he was by Freddie’s decision.”

  “Did he tell you why Lord Waddington wanted to speak to him?”

  “Not a word.”

  “You don’t think he could be crossing the floor and joining the infidels?”

  “Never. That’s just not his style. But now you’ve handed in the book, is there anything else you have to do before going into hospital?”

  “I wish I could do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Change the subject without having to include a link line. You’d never get away with it in a book. In real life, when two people are having a conversation, they switch back and forth without thinking about it, sometimes even in midsentence. Scott Fitzgerald wrote a short story recording a real-life conversation, and it was unreadable.”

  “How interesting. Now answer the question.”

  “No,” said Harry. “Now that the line editor and the proofreader have done their damndest, there’s not a lot more I can do before the book is published.”

  “What did the redoubtable Miss Warburton catch you out on this time?”

  “I had a New York detective reading the Miranda Rights to a prisoner three years before they came into force.”

  “Oops. Anything else?”

  “Colons that should have been semicolons, and it appears I use the expression ‘no doubt’ too often throughout the book. Something else everyone does in normal life, but you can’t get away with it in a novel.”

  “Will you be going on any book tours this time?”

  “I expect so. Most readers will assume it’s another William Warwick novel, and I’ll have to disabuse them of that. And in any case, Aaron is already lining up a tour of the States for me, and my London publishers are pressing me to visit the Bombay Book Festival.”

  “Does the timing work? It all sounds quite demanding.”

  “It’s all rather convenient, actually. I check into St. Thomas’s in a couple of weeks’ time, and by the time the novel is published, I should have fully recovered.”

  “Once you’re out of hospital, I don’t think you should come down here. Stay in London where Karin, Giles, and I can fuss over you. In fact I’ve already warned my department I’ll be away for at least a couple of weeks.”

  “I think Giles might be away for a lot longer than that.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “There’s a rumor doing the rounds that our ambassador in Washington will be retiring in the spring.”

  50

  THE OFFICE WAS SMALLER than he’d expected, but the magnificent wood paneling and fine oil portraits of his predecessors left him in no doubt of the historic importance of his new role.

  His duties had been carefully explained to him by Commander Rufus Orme, his private secretary. Like the monarch, he may have had little real power in his new position, but immense influence. Indeed, when it came to state occasions he followed in the Queen’s footsteps, with the Archbishop of Canterbury and the prime minister a pa