Miles shoved James forward and he stumbled on to the stage, wishing more than ever that he had not come tonight. He hated being the centre of attention.
He stood there looking out over the ranks of grinning faces.
Mr Langton-Herring put an arm round his shoulders. ‘Some of you may have heard the story,’ he said, ‘and most of you will have seen poor Miles hopping about the place on his crutches. He had a nasty accident on a mountainside in Austria and his friend, James Bond, saved his life. He brought him down the mountain at great risk to himself, and it is entirely due to his efforts that Miles is here with us tonight. So please raise your glasses in a second toast… to James Bond…’
James hoped he wasn’t blushing to his roots. He felt desperately uncomfortable as everyone lifted their glasses towards him and shouted ‘James Bond!’ before emptying them.
Everyone that is, apart from one man, who stood out from the crowd by remaining completely still. He simply stared at James with empty, lifeless eyes, and James stared back.
It was Graf von Schlick.
What the devil was he doing here?
James realised that Langton-Herring was still speaking, and he tore his eyes away from the blank-faced man in the crowd and turned to his host.
‘Miles tells me you have no watch, James,’ he was saying. ‘So I’d like you to have this as a small token of our gratitude, for saving our son’s life.’
Langton-Herring passed James a velvet pouch, inside which was a beautiful watch.
‘It’s a diving watch. The very latest thing,’ said Langton-Herring as James studied it. ‘A Mido Multifort, the first automatic, waterproof and shock-resistant watch on the market. I guarantee you’ll be the only boy at Eton with one of these on his wrist.’
‘It’s really quite something,’ said James, turning the watch in his hand. It was simple and tough-looking, with a brown leather strap.
‘It’s waterproof to a depth of 100 feet,’ said Langton-Herring. ‘Should be sufficient for you, eh?’
‘You really shouldn’t have,’ said James.
‘Oh, but I should,’ said Langton-Herring with a grin. ‘It’s the very least I can do. Miles tells me you’re quite a sporting lad and a keen swimmer. Go ahead, try it on.’
James strapped the watch on. It could have been made for him. For a moment he forgot all about the other guests, and when he raised his head he realised that they were no longer looking his way, and had gone back to enjoying the party. There was no sign of Graf von Schlick.
He stayed on the stage talking to Miles and his father for a few more minutes, and when he finally went down the steps to the dance floor he found his path blocked by two pretty girls.
‘This is Tillie and Maya,’ said Miles. ‘They are friends of a cousin, or cousins of a friend – I can never remember which. They came with Mrs Dudley Ward. I think they’d like to meet you.’
James shook their hands. They were staring at him with awe.
‘Are you famous?’ said Tillie, the older of the two.
‘Not really,’ said James.
‘You’re a hero,’ said Maya.
‘No, I’m not,’ said James and he tried to walk away. When he turned round he saw that they were following him.
‘It seems you have some fans,’ said Miles.
‘Tell me,’ said James. ‘I thought I spotted the Graf von Schlick earlier. Was I seeing things?’
‘No, he’s here all right,’ said Miles. ‘As you know, he was in the clinic with me and it turns out he knows the Prince of Wales. I suppose they’re probably related – the von Schlicks were originally from Germany, like our own royal family.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Maya, who had popped up at Miles’s elbow. ‘Our royal family aren’t German, they’re English.’
‘Queen Victoria was a Hanover,’ Miles explained. ‘And the Hanovers were a German royal dynasty, who came over here in 1714. Then, when Victoria married Prince Albert she became a Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. But during the Great War it didn’t look good for the British royal family to have a German surname, so Victoria’s grandson, George, changed the family name to Windsor, after the town. The royals are all Windsors now, and I don’t suppose that they will ever change back again.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ said Maya.
‘I did,’ said Tillie.
‘You’re just showing off,’ said Maya.
As the two girls began to argue James saw his chance to escape. He slipped away and went off to find a lavatory.
There were so many rooms in the house, however, that it was difficult to know where to start. One likely-looking door led to a servants’ stairway, another opened into a closet full of hunting equipment. As he came out he found his way blocked by a young man with a big grin and a small notebook.
‘Hi,’ he said, ‘I’m Parker Liautaud, European correspondent for Time magazine. I wonder if I could ask you a few questions about your recent adventures in Austria.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ said James. ‘I don’t want any attention.’
‘I’m sure our readers would be greatly interested in what you had to say; it’s quite an exciting story.’
James looked around for some way of escape and caught sight of the thuggish-looking man with the swollen eyelids, von Schlick’s manservant. He was making his way slowly along the corridor.
James turned back to the young reporter. ‘It’s all been exaggerated,’ he said. ‘I’ve nothing to say.’
The thug was getting nearer.
‘Just a short quote?’
‘Talk to Miles,’ said James hotly, and he barged through the nearest door and slammed it loudly behind him. He waited there for a few seconds, watching the doorknob, until he was sure that neither the reporter nor the thug were going to follow him.
The room was in half darkness and James had assumed it was empty, but when he turned round he saw two people sitting next to each other on a sofa, lit by a dim table lamp. They were both staring at him.
He recognised one of them immediately: it was the Prince of Wales. How strange, to meet three members of the Royal Family in one week. His partner was an older woman with dark hair and a thin, clever face. They stood up politely and there was a slightly awkward moment.
‘I’m sorry,’ said James. ‘I didn’t think there was anyone in here.’ The room appeared to be a gentleman’s study.
‘Are you lost?’ said the woman, who was evidently an American. ‘Easy in a large house like this.’
‘I was looking…’ James was suddenly overcome with embarrassment about saying exactly what he had been looking for. Was it done to talk about these things in front of the heir to the throne?
‘I was looking for someone,’ he mumbled.
‘You’re that young chap Langton-Herring was talking about, aren’t you?’ said the Prince.
‘Yes, that’s right, sir.’
‘How do you do?’
James went over and shook Edward’s hand; the Prince then introduced the woman as Mrs Wallis Simpson.
‘It seems we’re both guests of honour here,’ said Edward. ‘I gather you helped Miles out in some way, did you?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Jolly good, yes. Well done. And you’re at Eton, as well, are you?’
‘That’s right, sir, I am.’
‘Yes, jolly good. Tremendous stuff.’
Edward seemed friendly enough, and genuinely seemed to enjoy chatting to James, but Mrs Simpson had sat down again and appeared to have no interest in him at all. James thought she was probably one of those adults who didn’t like children.
‘Jolly good school, Eton,’ Edward said, patting his pockets and then thrusting his hands deep into them as if not sure what to do with them.
‘Yes, sir, I like it enough.’
‘Between you and me –’ Edward leant towards James and gave him a wink – ‘and I shouldn’t really be telling you this, but my father, the King, is going to be visiting the college for the Fourth of June
celebrations.’
‘Really, sir, I didn’t know.’
‘No, no. It’s, ah, not yet common knowledge. A bit of inside gen for you. I’m sure you can keep it under your hat. Us royals have always had very close ties with Eton.’
‘Yes. The fourth of June is a celebration of George the Third’s birthday,’ said James. ‘He was a great benefactor of the school.’
‘Yes.’
James realised he was babbling like an idiot, but he couldn’t stop himself.
‘So, King George is going to be visiting?’ he went on. ‘I mean our present King George, of course.’
‘Of course,’ said Edward. ‘It would be difficult for the old King to visit, as he’s… as he’s dead.’
‘Yes,’ said James, and he looked at Edward, not sure if he’d made a joke or not. Edward kept a straight face for a few seconds and then broke into a smile. James laughed.
‘They’re giving a lunch in his honour,’ Edward added.
‘Ah, I see.’
‘One has to beware of all these lunches in one’s honour,’ said Edward, staring out of the window. ‘They can be rather heavy. One needs to guard against putting on any weight. Difficult business.’
‘I can imagine it is, sir, yes.’
‘My father is always telling me to eat more,’ said Edward.
Mrs Simpson gave a snort of laughter from the sofa where she was reading a magazine. Edward was reminded of her presence.
‘Can I get you anything, dear?’ he asked.
Mrs Simpson threw down the magazine and stood up.
‘I was just leaving actually,’ she said. ‘This party’s an awful bore, but I suppose one must show one’s face.’ She smiled forcedly and went out of the room.
James felt very aware that it was just the two of them in the room now, and he didn’t know what to say. He took a deep breath and was just about to try to find a way to leave politely when there was a knock on the door and three men entered.
Two of them he had never seen before, but the third was Graf von Schlick.
He turned his awful, bland, unreadable face towards James and James felt a chill pass through him.
16
A Blunt Object
Powerful urges were battling each other inside James. On the one hand he wanted to get well away from the Graf, and on the other he wanted to stay and find out more about him. In the end the decision was made for him by the Prince who started to introduce James to the new arrivals.
The first two, Viscount Lymington and ‘Chips’ Channon, had heard Langton-Herring’s speech so at least knew who James was and they made a token effort to say something positive about him. Finally Edward introduced the Graf.
‘Von Schlick is from Austria,’ he explained unnecessarily as they shook hands. ‘Do you know the country?’
‘Only from my recent trip,’ said James. ‘With Miles, for the skiing,’ he added when the Prince looked blank.
‘Ah, yes, of course.’
‘I know Germany better,’ James continued. ‘We went there often when I was younger.’
‘A tremendous country, Germany, such a pity that we fell out with them,’ said the Prince.
‘Indeed,’ added ‘Chips’ Channon. ‘The Great War was in so many ways unnecessary.’
‘Yes,’ said James. ‘It was a shame.’
A shame? What was he saying? The war was a hell of a lot worse than just a shame. It was a tragedy. A disaster. Millions of young men had died, and for what?
‘We must make sure it doesn’t happen again,’ said Viscount Lymington, a balding man with reptilian features.
‘Yes,’ said Edward. ‘It did terrible damage. But I am so glad that Germany is at last getting back on to its feet. This man, Hitler, is doing great work, I gather.’
‘I wouldn’t really know about that, sir,’ said James.
‘You’re too young,’ said Channon. ‘But take it from me, I have seen what he is about. He has industry working again, the people filled with hope for the future.’
‘It’s all rather exciting, really,’ said Edward. ‘England is falling apart around our ears and Germany is rising from the ashes with great vigour. I think we might want a dictator in England before long, if only to sort out the communists.’
The Prince gave a little chuckle then looked slightly self-conscious.
‘Now, you’d better run along, James,’ he mumbled. ‘I need to talk to these gentlemen.’
James said goodbye to Viscount Lymington and ‘Chips’ Channon, and finally shook hands once again with the Graf, who still wore a pair of thin white leather gloves.
The Graf whispered ‘Goodnight’, holding his throat, which had evidently been affected by the fire. ‘It was nice to meet you.’
‘Actually,’ said James, ‘we have met before.’
James saw a flicker of emotion in the man’s eyes. But it was impossible to read what it meant.
‘In the clinic,’ James explained. ‘In Austria.’
‘Ah,’ said von Schlick, the light dying in his eyes and the bland look returning.
‘I was there with Miles.’
‘Of course you were,’ hissed von Schlick.
James decided to press things further. He felt desperately uncomfortable in the man’s presence, but he needed some questions answering.
‘On the night before your operation, sir,’ he went on, ‘you were crying out in your room. You were obviously in some distress. I woke up and came in to see what the matter was.’
‘I do not remember,’ said the Graf bluntly.
But James was not going to be put off so easily. ‘You were shouting about how somebody wanted to kill your cousin, Jürgen ,’ he said. ‘It stuck in my mind. Is he all right? Your cousin, I mean? You seemed very worried.’
‘I must have been dreaming,’ the Graf whispered. ‘It is nonsense. I was heavily sedated.’
‘So, he is all right?’
‘I can assure you,’ said the Graf, more forcefully. ‘I do not have a cousin George.’
‘I’m sorry to have brought it up,’ said James. ‘At any rate, I’m glad the operation went so well.’
The ugly scarring and bruising on the back of the man’s head had settled down, but it was still a marked contrast to the smooth, almost too perfect face.
The Graf thanked James, who muttered some more hasty goodbyes and backed out of the room with some relief.
Later, sitting in the back of the taxi on his way back to Eton, James ran through the episode again in his head. Something had struck him as odd, and he wanted to remember what it was while the conversation was still fresh in his mind. It was something the Graf had said. Something not quite right, but James had been so flustered at the time that he hadn’t picked up on it. What was it?
Something about his cousin Jürgen ?
Yes, that was it.
The Graf had said that he didn’t have a cousin George.
Why had he used the English version of Jürgen , when James had used the German?
Maybe he was just humouring James by using the language of his hosts.
No matter how often James went over it in his head, he couldn’t make sense of it. He was finding it hard to think straight and concentrate on one thing. So much had happened tonight it was hard to take it all in. It had been a distinctly unreal experience.
There was solid proof that he hadn’t dreamt it all, however.
He pulled his sleeve back and looked at his new watch.
He didn’t feel that he deserved it, but it was very handsome nevertheless.
A few days later James was trudging back over Fifteen Arch Bridge after a particularly dull cricket match on Upper Club when Dandy pulled up alongside in his works lorry.
‘Are you busy, Bucko?’ he said, winding down the window.
‘Not particularly,’ said James. ‘I have a Latin construe to write, but it can wait.’
‘I could be doing with some company, if you fancy a little trip.’
James didn’
t know what to make of Dandy. Behind his friendliness there was an unpredictability and a wildness about him, but he had readily helped James when he had spotted The Invisible Man in the woods at Windsor Park, so he might be a useful ally.
‘Why not?’ James climbed into the cab and settled down on the old, worn seat. The smell of the countryside mingled with oil and petrol fumes.
‘Where are we going?’ he asked as Dandy wrestled the lorry into gear and they rattled off up the road towards Slough.
‘I’ve to get some supplies,’ said Dandy. ‘I can do it meself, but it’ll be easier with two pairs of hands.’
‘What sort of supplies?’ James asked, watching the patterns the sunlight made filtering through the passing trees.
‘Oh, just stuff for the grounds,’ said Dandy. ‘Weed-killer, fertiliser, nothing very exciting, I’m afraid. It takes a lot of work and a lot of chemicals to get those cricket pitches looking as beautiful as they do. And I’ve to deliver a ton of cut flowers to the chapel for the Fourth of June. It’s a specially big event this year. So what have you been up to, then, since our adventures in the park? Seen any more spies?’
‘No.’ James laughed. ‘Do you not believe me?’
‘Oh, I believe you. Same as I believe in leprechauns and pots of gold at the end of every rainbow.’
James laughed again. ‘It does seem a little far-fetched, I suppose.’
He decided to change the subject.
‘Life has been all too normal lately,’ he said. ‘Though I did go to a big party on Saturday night.’
‘Lucky you.’
James told Dandy all about his night at the Langton-Herrings’ house and Dandy listened with amused interest.
‘Well, now,’ he said after a while. ‘You’ve certainly been seeing how the other half lives.’
‘I think you’re right.’
‘But does it seem fair to you, Jimmy, that your man Langton-Herring should have all that money, should have rooms full of fine food and champagne, when everyone else in the country is trying to scrape a living together right now?’