At twenty-one, forty years seems such a long time. Today Percy looked back on it as it were a heartbeat. This was the night–New Year’s Eve–forty years on. Surely it could not be.
“E’hem, Sir?” said his P.A. “Your wife on the phone.”
“Thank you, Harley… Elizabeth, darling…Yes, everything’s fine… No, no, you enjoy yourself. I just wanted to say Happy New Year… I know it’s not but I’m going out and… Of course, I won’t keep you… Give my love to…” and she’d gone and his life seemed as shallow as she.
He’d had it all just the way he wanted, married the debutante, been a great business success, wealth, power, women… Sir Percival Brunt looked at his greying temples and still finely chiseled features. Any other man would be counting his blessings but not he, for this was the night–forty years on.
In terms of the old calendar, Halloween used to be the final night of the old financial year when all debts must be cleared, all remunerations paid. Well, plain Percy Brunt might have made certain agreements but Sir Percival Brunt of Allingham had no intention of honouring them and he thought he knew a way out.
Dining at his club with a few business acquaintances seemed an ideal antidote to apprehension.
“Telephone, Sir,” interrupted Harley, “Gentleman wouldn’t give a name.”
“In that case, Harley, I am unavailable.”
“Very good, Sir.” Harley was the best man he’d ever had. He would handle it.
Dinner was unexceptional but a jovial affair and the port was always good. Percy felt its warm, affirming glow. “To good port and prosperity,” he offered and the others quaffed.
“Begging your pardon, Sir, but the gentleman says he needs to speak with you and that you know him from some time back.”
“His name?”
“He won’t give it, Sir.”
“Then I will not speak with him, Harley. Will you make that clearly understood?”
“Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir.”
“Can’t understand it,” he said to the others, “One can usually rely on Harley.”
The clock struck eleven. Percy’s heart raced. “Well, I must be off,” he told his companions.
“Off where, Percy?”
“Will you not see the New Year in with us?”
“No, I have other plans,” he said.
One of them tapped his nose. “Ah! While the wife’s away… eh?”
“Something like that,” said Percy.
There were handshakes all round and Percy left the club with Harley.
“The gentleman who phoned, Harley… How did he know I was at the club and not at home?”
“I thought of that myself, Sir, and I hope I didn’t do wrong but I took the liberty of asking.”
“And?”
“The gentleman said he knew where you were at all times and that he’d see you later.”
Percy quickened his step. The warmth of the port had gone, the camaraderie was quite dispelled and the night air clung to his very bones. He felt clammy.
Walking through the city streets should have been familiar and comforting but everywhere they passed there seemed to be a telephone ringing and his imaginings now told him that all the calls were for himself alone.
“Are we in a hurry, Sir?” asked Harley practically running behind.
“Yes, damn it, I have to be somewhere.”
They were headed away from home.
“May I ask, Sir, where we are going in such haste?”
“Church, Harley.”
“Really, Sir?”
“Midnight Mass.”
“I didn’t know you were a praying man, Sir,” remarked Harley and for the first time there was something scathing in his tone.
They were nearly at the church gates when the last thing Percy expected happened. Midnight struck.
Harley sprang in front of him, barring his entrance. “You must have mistaken the time, Sir.”
“Please, I must go in. Sanctuary… You don’t know what’s at stake!”
“Ah, but I do. It’s too late, Percy,” Harley said. “If you wanted to plead for your life, you should have spoken to me earlier.”
- Copyright: © 2007 Oonah V Joslin
