Hugo leapt out of his car, handed the paperboy a halfpenny and looked at a photograph of his son when he was school captain of Bristol Grammar that dominated the front page. He climbed back into his car, turned off the ignition and read all about it.
Second Lieutenant Giles Barrington of the 1st Battalion, the Wessex, son of Sir Hugo Barrington Bt, has been awarded the Military Cross following action in Tobruk. Lt Barrington led a platoon across eighty yards of open desert, killing a German officer and five other soldiers, before over-running an enemy dugout and capturing 63 German infantry men from Rommel's crack Afrika Korps. Lt/Col. Robertson of the Wessex described Lt Barrington's action as displaying remarkable leadership and selfless courage in the face of overwhelming odds.
2/Lt Barrington's platoon commander, Captain Alex Fisher, also an Old Bristolian, was involved in the same action, and mentioned in dispatches, as was Corporal Terry Bates, a local butcher from Broad Street. Lt Giles Barrington MC was later captured by the Germans when Rommel sacked Tobruk. Neither Barrington, nor Bates, is aware of their award for gallantry, because both of them are currently prisoners of war in Germany. Captain Fisher has been reported as missing in action. Full story pages 6 & 7.
Hugo sped home to share the news with his mother.
'How proud Walter would have been,' she said once she'd finished reading the report. 'I must call Elizabeth immediately, in case she hasn't heard the news.'
It was the first time anyone had mentioned his former wife's name for a long while.
The Sins of the Father
'I thought you'd be interested to know,' said Mitchell, 'that Mrs Clifton is wearing an engagement ring.'
'Who would want to marry that bitch?'
'A Mr Arnold Holcombe, it seems.'
'Who's he?'
'A schoolmaster. Teaches English at Merrywood Elementary. In fact, he used to teach Harry Clifton before he went to St Bede's.'
'But that was years ago. Why haven't you mentioned his name before?'
'They've only recently met up again, when Mrs Clifton began attending evening classes.'
'Evening classes?' repeated Hugo.
'Yes,' said Mitchell. 'She's been learning to read and write. Seems she's a chip off the young block.'
'What do you mean?' snapped Hugo.
'When the class took their final exam at the end of the course, she came top.'
'Did she now?' said Hugo. 'Perhaps I should visit Mr Holcombe and let him know exactly what his fiancee was up to during the years he lost touch with her.'
'Perhaps I should mention that Holcombe boxed for Bristol University, as Stan Tancock found to his cost.'
'I can handle myself,' said Hugo. 'Meanwhile I want you to keep an eye on another woman, who just might prove every bit as dangerous for my future as Maisie Clifton.'
Mitchell removed a tiny notebook and pencil from an inside pocket.
'Her name is Olga Piotrovska, and she lives in London, at number forty-two Lowndes Square. I need to know everyone she comes into contact with, particularly if she's ever interviewed by any members of your former profession. Spare no details, however trivial or unpleasant you may consider them.'
Once Hugo had finished speaking, the notebook and pencil disappeared. He then handed Mitchell an envelope, a sign that the meeting was over. Mitchell slipped his pay packet into his jacket pocket, stood up and limped away.
The Sins of the Father
Hugo was surprised how quickly he became bored with being chairman of Barrington's. Endless meetings to attend, countless papers to read, minutes to be circulated, memos to be considered, and a stack of mail that should have been replied to by return of post. And on top of that, before he left every evening, Miss Potts would hand him a briefcase bulging with even more papers that had to be gone over by the time he was back behind his desk at eight the following morning.
Hugo invited three chums to join the board, including Archie Fenwick and Toby Dunstable, in the hope that they would lessen his load. They rarely showed up for meetings, but still expected to receive their stipend.
As the weeks passed, Hugo began turning up at the office later and later, and after Bill Lockwood reminded the chairman that it was only a few days to his sixtieth birthday, when he would be retiring, Hugo capitulated and said that he'd decided Lockwood could stay on for another couple of years.
'How kind of you to reconsider my position, chairman,' said Lockwood. 'But I feel that, having served the company for almost forty years, the time has come for me to make way for a younger man.'
Hugo cancelled Lockwood's farewell party.
That younger man was Ray Compton, Lockwood's deputy, who had only been with the company for a few months, and certainly hadn't got his feet under the table. When he presented Barrington's year results to the board, Hugo accepted for the first time that the company was only just breaking even, and agreed with Compton that the time had come to start laying off some of the dock labourers before the company couldn't afford to pay their wages.
As Barrington's fortunes dwindled, the nation's future looked more hopeful.
With the German army retreating from Stalingrad the British people began to believe for the first time that the Allies could win the war. Confidence in the future started to seep back into the nation's psyche as theatres, clubs and restaurants began to reopen all over the country.
Hugo longed to be back in town and to rejoin his social set, but Mitchell's reports continued to make it clear that London was one city he'd be wise to steer clear of.
The Sins of the Father
The year 1943 didn't begin well for Barrington's.
There were several cancelled contracts from customers who became exasperated when the chairman couldn't be bothered to answer their letters, and several creditors began demanding payment, one or two of them even threatening writs. And then one morning, a ray of sunlight appeared that Hugo believed would solve all of the immediate cashflow problems.
It was a call from Prendergast that raised Hugo's hopes.
The bank manager had been approached by the United Dominion Real Estate Company, who were showing an interest in purchasing the Broad Street site.
'I think, Sir Hugo, it would be prudent not to mention the figure over the phone,' Prendergast intoned slightly pompously.
Hugo was sitting in Prendergast's office forty minutes later, and even he gasped when he heard how much they were willing to offer.
'Twenty-four thousand pounds?' repeated Hugo.
'Yes,' said Prendergast, 'and I'm confident that's their opening bid, and I can push them up to nearer thirty. Remembering that your original outlay was less than three thousand pounds, I think we can consider it a shrewd investment. But there's a fly in the ointment.'
'A fly?' said Hugo, sounding anxious.
'In the form of Mrs Clifton,' said Prendergast. 'The offer is conditional on you obtaining the freehold for the entire site, including her plot.'
'Offer her eight hundred,' Hugo barked.
The Prendergast cough followed, although he didn't remind his client that had he taken his advice, they could have closed a deal with Mrs Clifton for four hundred pounds some months ago, and if she were ever to find out about United Dominion's offer . . .
'I'll let you know the moment I've heard from her,' was all Prendergast said.