‘Don’t say anything,’ she said.
‘I can’t stand here and watch my closest friend going to pieces in front of my eyes,’ said William. ‘I have to do something.’
But in the end he took Kate’s advice, and spent an unhappy evening watching Matthew become progressively more drunk. From the other side of the room Tony Simmons was glancing pointedly at William, who was relieved when Matthew left early, even if it was in the company of the only unattached woman at the party. Once Matthew had gone, William started to relax for the first time that day.
‘How is little Richard?’ Dr MacKenzie asked.
‘He can’t count yet,’ said William.
‘That’s good news. He might end up doing something worthwhile after all.’
‘Exactly what I said,’ said Kate. ‘What a good idea, William, he can be a doctor.’
‘He should be able to manage that,’ said MacKenzie. ‘I don’t know many doctors who can count.’
‘Except when they send their bills,’ said William.
MacKenzie laughed. ‘Will you have another drink, Kate?’
‘No thank you, Andrew. It’s time we went home. If we stay any longer, only Tony Simmons and William will be left, and we’d have to listen to them talk banking for the rest of the evening.’
‘Thanks for the party, Andrew,’ said William. ‘By the way, I must apologize for Matthew’s behaviour.’
‘Why?’ said Dr MacKenzie.
‘Oh, come on, Andrew, not only was he drunk, but there wasn’t a woman in the room he didn’t proposition.’
‘I might well do the same if I were in his predicament,’ said Dr MacKenzie.
‘What makes you say that?’ said William. ‘You can’t approve of his conduct just because he’s single.’
‘No I don’t, but I try to understand, and realize I might be a little irresponsible faced with the same problem.’
‘What do you mean?’ said William.
‘Oh, my God,’ said Dr MacKenzie. ‘You’re his closest friend, and he hasn’t told you?’
‘Told us what?’ said Kate and William together.
Dr MacKenzie looked at them with disbelief in his eyes.
‘You’d better come to my study. Both of you.’
William and Kate followed him into a small room, lined almost floor to ceiling with medical books interspersed with occasional photographs of Dr MacKenzie’s student days at Cornell and the odd framed certificate.
‘Please sit down,’ he said. ‘William, I make no apologies for what I’m about to say, because I assumed you knew that Matthew was gravely ill, suffering from Hodgkin’s disease. He’s known about his condition for over a year.’
William fell back in his chair, for a moment unable to speak. ‘Hodgkin’s disease?’
‘An almost invariably fatal inflammation and enlargement of the lymph nodes,’ said the doctor rather formally.
William shook his head incredulously. ‘But why didn’t he tell me?’
‘My guess is he’s too proud to burden anyone else with his problems. He’d rather die in his own way than let anyone know what he’s going through. I’ve begged him for the last six months to tell his father, and I’ve certainly broken my professional promise to him by letting you know, but I can’t allow you to go on blaming him for his behaviour without knowing the truth.’
‘Thank you, Andrew,’ said William. ‘How can I have been so blind and so stupid?’
‘Don’t blame yourself,’ said Dr MacKenzie. ‘There’s no way you could have known.’
‘Is there really no hope?’ asked Kate.
‘None. It’s only the length of time I can’t be sure about.’
‘Are there no clinics, no specialists? Money wouldn’t be a problem.’
‘Money can’t buy everything, William. I’ve already consulted the three best surgeons in America, and even one in Switzerland. I’m afraid they all agree with my diagnosis. Medical science hasn’t yet discovered a cure for Hodgkin’s disease.’
‘How long does he have to live?’ asked Kate in a whisper.
‘Six months at the outside would be my bet, but more likely three.’
‘And I thought I had problems,’ said William. He held tightly onto Kate’s hand. ‘We must be going, Andrew. Thank you for telling us.’
‘Do what you can for him,’ said the doctor, ‘but for God’s sake, be understanding. Let him do what he wants to do. These are Matthew’s last few months, not yours. And don’t ever let him know I told you.’
William and Kate drove home in silence. As soon as they reached the Red House, William phoned the woman Matthew had left the party with.
‘Would it be possible to speak to Matthew Lester?’
‘He’s not here,’ said a rather irritated voice. ‘He dragged me off to the Revue Club, and after a couple of drinks he left with another woman.’ She hung up.
The Revue Club. William looked it up in the phone book, then drove over to the north side of town and, after questioning a taxi driver, eventually found the club. He knocked on the door. A hatch slid open.
‘Are you a member?’
‘No,’ said William firmly, and passed a ten-dollar bill through the grille.
The hatch slid shut and the door opened. William walked across the middle of the dance floor, looking slightly incongruous in his three-piece banker’s suit. The dancers twined around each other and swayed incuriously away from him. William’s eyes searched the smoke-filled room for Matthew, but he wasn’t there. Finally he thought he recognized one of Matthew’s more recent girlfriends, sitting in a corner with a sailor. William went over to her.
‘Excuse me, miss.’
She looked up, but clearly didn’t recognize William.
‘The lady’s with me. Beat it,’ said the sailor.
‘Have you seen Matthew Lester?’
‘Matthew who?’ said the girl.
‘I told you to get lost,’ said the sailor, rising to his feet.
‘One more word out of you and you’ll be back on deck,’ said William.
The sailor had seen anger like that in a man’s eyes once before in his life, and had nearly lost an eye for his trouble. He sat back down.
‘Where’s Matthew?’
‘I don’t know a Matthew, honey.’ Now she sounded frightened.
‘Six feet two, blond hair, dressed like me and probably drunk.’
‘Oh, you mean Martin. He calls himself Martin here, not Matthew.’ She began to relax. ‘Now let me see, who did he go off with tonight?’ She turned her head towards the bar and shouted at the bartender. ‘Terry, who did Martin leave with?’
The bartender removed a dead cigarette butt from the corner of his mouth. ‘Jenny,’ he said, and put the unlit cigarette back in place.
‘Jenny, that’s right,’ said the girl. ‘Now, let me see, she’s short sessions. Never gives a man more than half an hour, so they should be back soon.’
‘Thank you,’ said William.
He took a seat at the bar and a scotch with a lot of water, feeling more and more out of place by the minute. Finally the bartender, the unlit cigarette still in his mouth, nodded in the direction of a girl who was coming through the door.
‘That’s Jenny, if you still want her,’ he said. Matthew was nowhere to be seen.
The bartender waved for Jenny to join them. A slim, short, dark, not unattractive girl winked at William and walked towards him, her hips swinging.
‘Looking for me, darling? Well, I’m available, but it’s ten dollars for half an hour.’
‘No, I don’t want you,’ said William.
‘Charming,’ said Jenny.
‘I’m looking for the man who you were with. Matthew - I mean Martin.’
‘Martin, he was too drunk to get it up with the help of a crane, but he paid his ten dollars - he always does. A real gentleman.’
‘Where is he now?’ asked William impatiently.
‘I don’t know. He said he was going to walk home.’
> William drove slowly through the rain covered streets, following the route towards Matthew’s apartment, looking carefully at every man he passed. Some hurried on when they saw him staring at them, while others tried to engage him in conversation. He had stopped at a traffic light outside an all-night diner when he caught sight of Matthew through the steamy window, weaving his way through the tables with a cup in his hand. William parked the car, walked into the diner and took the seat opposite him. Matthew was slumped on the table next to a cup of untouched coffee.
‘Matthew, it’s me,’ said William, looking at his crumpled friend. Tears started to run down his cheeks.
Matthew looked up and spilled some of his coffee. ‘You’re crying, old fellow. Lost your girl, have you?’
‘No, I’ve lost my closest friend.’
‘Ah, they’re much harder to come by.’
‘I know,’ said William.
‘I have a good friend,’ said Matthew, slurring his words. ‘He’s always stood by me until we quarrelled for the first time the other day. My fault though. You see, I’ve let him down rather badly.’
‘No, you haven’t,’ said William.
‘How can you know?’ said Matthew angrily. ‘You’re not even fit to know him.’
‘Let’s go home, Matthew.’
‘My name is Martin,’ said Matthew.
‘I’m sorry, Martin, let’s go home.’
‘No, I want to stay here. There’s this girl who may come by later. I think I’m ready for her now.’
‘I have some fine old malt whiskey at my place,’ said William. ‘Why don’t you join me?’
‘Any women at your place?’
‘Yes, plenty of them.’
‘You’re on, I’ll come.’
William hoisted Matthew up and guided him slowly towards the door. As they passed two policemen sitting at the counter, William heard one of them say, ‘Goddamn fairies.’
He helped Matthew into the car and drove him to Beacon Hill. Kate was waiting up for them.
‘You should have gone to bed, darling.’
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she said.
‘I’m afraid he’s nearly incoherent.’
‘Is this the girl you promised me?’ asked Matthew.
‘Yes, she’ll take care of you,’ said William, as he and Kate helped him up to the guest room and put him on the bed. Kate started to undress him.
‘You must undress as well, darling,’ he said. ‘I’ve already paid my ten dollars.’
‘When you’re in bed,’ said Kate gently.
‘Why are you looking so sad, beautiful lady?’ said Matthew.
‘Because I love you,’ said Kate, tears beginning to form in her eyes.
‘Don’t cry,’ said Matthew. ‘There’s nothing to cry about. I’ll manage it this time, you’ll see.’
When they had undressed him, William covered him with a sheet and a blanket. Kate turned out the light.
‘You promised you’d come to bed with me,’ Matthew said drowsily.
She closed the door quietly.
William slept on a chair outside Matthew’s room for fear he might wake up in the night and try to leave. Kate woke him in the morning, before taking in some breakfast to Matthew.
‘What am I doing here, Kate?’ were his first words as she pulled open the curtains and he blinked in the morning light.
‘You came back with us after Andrew MacKenzie’s party last night,’ Kate replied rather feebly.
‘No, I didn’t. I went to the Revue Club with that awful girl, Patricia something or other, but luckily Jenny was there, not that she had to do much to earn her ten dollars. God, I feel lousy. Can I have a tomato juice? I don’t want to be unsociable, but the last thing I need is breakfast.’
‘Of course, Matthew,’ said Kate, removing the tray.
William came in. He and Matthew stared at each other in silence.
‘You know, don’t you?’ said Matthew finally.
‘Yes,’ said William. ‘I’ve been a fool, and I hope you’ll forgive me.’
‘Don’t cry, William. I haven’t seen you do that since you were twelve when Covington was beating you up and I had to drag him off you. Remember? I wonder what Covington’s up to now? Probably running a brothel in Tijuana; it’s about all he was fit for. Mind you, if Covington is running it, the place will be damned efficient, so lead me to it. Don’t cry, William. Grown men don’t cry. Nothing can be done. I’ve seen all the specialists from New York to Los Angeles to Zu rich, and there’s nothing they can do. Do you mind if I skip the office this morning? I still feel bloody awful. Kate can wake me up if I stay too long, or if I’m too much trouble, and I’ll find my own way home.’
‘This is your home now,’ said William.
Matthew’s voice changed. ‘Will you tell my father, William? I can’t face him. You’re an only son - you understand the problem.’
‘Yes,’ said William. ‘I’ll go down to New York tomorrow and let him know, if you’ll promise to stay here. I won’t stop you from getting drunk if that’s what you want to do, or from having as many women as you like, but you must stay here.’
‘Best offer I’ve had in weeks, William. Now I think I’ll sleep some more. I get so tired nowadays.’
William watched Matthew fall into a deep sleep, and removed the half-empty glass from his hand. A tomato juice stain was forming on the sheets.
‘Don’t die,’ he said quietly. ‘Please don’t die, Matthew. Have you forgotten that you and I are going to run the biggest bank in America?’
William went to New York the following morning to see Charles Lester. The great man shrank into his seat and seemed to age visibly at William’s news.
‘Thank you for coming, William, and telling me personally. I knew something had to be wrong when Matthew stopped visiting me, without warning. I’ll come up to Boston every weekend. I’m so glad he’s with you and Kate, and I’ll try not to make it too obvious how hard I took the news. God knows what he’s done to deserve this. Since his mother died, I’ve built everything for him, and now there’s no one to leave it to.’
‘Come to Boston whenever you want to, sir - you’ll always be most welcome.’
‘Thank you, William, for everything you’re doing for my son.’ The old man looked up at him. ‘I wish your father were alive to see how worthy his son is of the name Kane. If only I could change places with my son, and let him live …’
‘I ought to be getting back to him soon, sir.’
‘Yes, of course. Tell him I love him; tell him I took the news stoically. Don’t tell him anything different.’
Yes, sir.’
William travelled back to Boston that night to find that Matthew had stayed at home with Kate and was sitting on the veranda reading America’s latest bestseller, Gone With The Wind. He looked up as William came in.
‘How did the old man take it?’ were his first words when William entered the room.
‘He cried,’ said William.
‘The chairman of Lester’s Bank cried?’ said Matthew. ‘I hope no one tells the shareholders.’
Matthew stopped drinking, returned to work and worked as hard as he could right up until the last few days. William was amazed by his determination, and continually tried to make him slow down. But Matthew kept well on top of his work, and would tease William by checking his mail at the end of each day. In the evenings, before the theatre or dinner, Matthew would play tennis with Kate, or row against William on the Charles.
‘I’ll know I’m dead when I can’t beat you,’ he mocked.
Matthew never entered hospital, preferring to stay at the Red House. For William, the weeks went so slowly and yet so quickly, waking each morning and wondering if Matthew would still be alive.
Matthew died on a Thursday, forty pages still to read of Gone With The Wind.
Matthew’s funeral was held at St Patrick’s Cathedral in New York, and William and Kate stayed with Charles Lester. In the past few months he had become an old man
, and as he stood by the graves of his wife and his only son, he told William he no longer saw any purpose in life. William said nothing; no words of his could help the grieving father.
William and Kate returned to Boston the following day. The Red House seemed strangely empty without Matthew. The past months had been at once the happiest and the unhappiest period in William’s life. Matthew’s illness had brought William closer to both him and Kate than normal life would ever have allowed.
When William returned to the bank he found it difficult to get back into any sort of normal routine. He would get up and start to head towards Matthew’s office for advice or a laugh, but Matthew was no longer there. It was weeks before William could accept that the room was empty.
Tony Simmons could not have been more understanding, but it didn’t help. William lost all interest in banking, even in Kane and Cabot, as he went through months of remorse over Matthew’s death. He had always taken it for granted that he and Matthew shared a common destiny, that they would grow old together. No one commented that William’s work was not up to its usual high standard, although Kate grew worried by the hours William would spend alone.
Then one morning she woke to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at her. She blinked at him. ‘Is something wrong, darling?’
‘No. I’m just looking at my greatest asset, and making sure I never take it for granted.’
35
AT BREAKFAST the following morning, Kate pointed to a small item on page 17 of the Globe, reporting the opening of the Chicago Baron.
William smiled as he read the article. Kane and Cabot had been foolish not to listen when he had advised them to back the Richmond Group. It pleased him that his own judgement on Rosnovski had turned out to be right, even though the bank had missed out on the deal. His smile broadened as he read the nickname ‘The Chicago Baron’. Then, suddenly, he felt sick. He examined the photograph accompanying the article more closely, but there was no mistake, and the caption confirmed his worst fear: ‘Abel Rosnovski, the chairman of the Baron Group, talking with Mieczyslaw Szymczak, a governor of the Federal Reserve Board, and Alderman Henry Osborne.’