Toby handed Hugo his card, saying, 'If you're ever in need of some ready cash, it shouldn't prove too difficult, if you get my drift, old fellow.'
Hugo got his drift, but didn't take his hinted proposal at all seriously, until Olga asked him over breakfast one morning if a date had been fixed for the decree nisi. Hugo assured her it was imminent.
He left the house, went straight to his club, checked Toby's card and gave him a call. They agreed to meet at a pub in Fulham, where they sat alone in a corner, drinking double gins and chatting about how our lads were faring in the Middle East. They only changed the subject when they were certain they couldn't be overheard.
'All I'll need is a key to the flat,' said Toby, 'and the exact location of her jewellery.'
'That shouldn't prove difficult,' Hugo assured him.
'The only thing you'll have to do, old chum, is make sure you're both off the premises long enough for me to carry out the job.'
When Olga suggested over breakfast that she would like to see a production of Rigoletto at Sadler's Wells, Hugo agreed to book a couple of tickets. He would usually have made some excuse, but on this occasion he readily agreed, and even suggested that they have dinner at the Savoy afterwards to celebrate.
'Celebrate what?' she asked.
'My decree nisi has been granted,' he said casually. She threw her arms around him. 'Just another six months, my darling, and you'll be Mrs Barrington.'
Hugo took a small leather box out of his pocket and presented her with an engagement ring he'd bought on approval in Burlington Arcade the previous day. She approved. He intended to return it in six months' time.
The opera seemed to last for three months, rather than the three hours suggested in the programme. However, Hugo didn't complain, as he knew Toby would be making good use of the time.
Over dinner in the River Room, Hugo and Olga discussed where they might spend their honeymoon, as they couldn't travel abroad. Olga favoured Bath, which was a little too close to Bristol for Hugo's liking, but as it was never going to happen, he happily went along with her suggestion.
In the taxi on the way back to Lowndes Square, Hugo wondered how long it would be before Olga discovered that her diamonds were missing. Sooner than he'd bargained for, because when they opened the front door, they found the whole place had been ransacked. All that was left on the walls where the paintings had once hung were clear outlines to show what size they had been.
While Olga broke down in hysterics, Hugo picked up the phone and dialled 999. It took the police several hours to complete an inventory of everything that was missing, because Olga couldn't remain calm enough to answer their questions for more than a few moments at a time. The chief inspector in charge of the case assured them that the details of the stolen items would be circulated to all the leading diamond merchants and art dealers in London within forty-eight hours.
Hugo hit the roof when he caught up with Toby Dunstable in Fulham the following afternoon. His old school chum calmly took it on the chin like a heavyweight boxer. When Hugo was finally spent, Toby pushed a shoebox across the table.
'I don't need a new pair of shoes,' Hugo snapped.
'Perhaps not, but you'll be able to buy a shoe shop with what's inside there,' he said tapping the box.
Hugo lifted the lid and stared into the box, which contained no shoes, but was packed with five-pound notes.
'You needn't bother to count them,' said Toby. 'You'll find there's ten thousand pounds in readies.'
Hugo smiled, suddenly calm again. 'You're a good fellow,' he said as he placed the lid back and ordered another two double gin-and-tonics.
As the weeks passed, and the police failed to come up with any suspects, the chief inspector didn't leave Hugo in much doubt that he thought it was an inside job, an expression he used again and again whenever they met. However, Toby reassured him that they would never consider arresting the son of Sir Walter Barrington, unless they had cast-iron proof of his guilt that would convince a jury beyond reasonable doubt.
Olga asked Hugo where his new suits had come from and how he could possibly afford a Bugatti. He showed her the car's logbook, which confirmed that he'd owned it before they met. What he didn't tell her was how fortunate he'd been that the dealer he'd reluctantly sold it to still had it on his books.
As the end of the period after which the decree absolute would be granted was fast approaching, Hugo began to prepare for what they call in military circles an exit strategy. That was when Olga announced that she had some wonderful news to share with him.
Wellington once told a junior officer that timing was everything in life, and who was Hugo to disagree with the victor of Waterloo, especially when the great man's prophecy was about to apply to him?
He was reading The Times over breakfast, when he turned to the obituaries and saw a picture of his father staring out at him. He tried to read it without Olga discovering that both their lives were about to change.
In Hugo's opinion, the Thunderer had given the old man a good send-off, but it was the last paragraph of his record that most interested him. Sir Walter Barrington is succeeded by his only surviving son, Hugo, who will inherit the title.
However, what The Times didn't add was, and all that therein is.
MAISIE CLIFTON
1939 - 1942
25
MAISIE COULD STILL REMEMBER the pain she'd experienced when her husband didn't come home at the end of his evening shift. She knew Arthur was dead, even though it would be years before her brother Stan was willing to tell her the truth about how her husband had died at the dockyard that afternoon.
But that pain was nothing compared to being told that her only son had been buried at sea after the Devonian had been struck by a German torpedo, hours after war had been declared.
Maisie could still recall the last time she'd seen Harry. He'd come to visit her at the Grand Hotel that Thursday morning. The restaurant was packed, with a long queue of customers waiting to be seated. He'd stood in line, but when he saw his mother bustling in and out of the kitchen without a moment to spare, he slipped away, assuming she hadn't noticed him. He was always a thoughtful boy, and he knew she didn't approve of being interrupted at work, and, if the truth be told, he also knew she wouldn't have wanted to hear that he'd left Oxford to join the navy.
Sir Walter Barrington dropped by the next day to let Maisie know that Harry had sailed on the morning tide as fourth officer on the SS Devonian, and would be back within the month to join the crew of HMS Resolution as an ordinary seaman, as he intended to go off in search of German U-boats in the Atlantic. What he didn't realize was that they were already searching for him.
Maisie planned to take the day off when Harry returned, but it was not to be. Knowing how many other mothers had lost their offspring because of this evil and barbaric war didn't help.
Dr Wallace, the senior medical officer on the SS Kansas Star, was waiting by her front door in Still House Lane when she returned home after work that October evening. He didn't need to tell her why he was there. It was etched on his face.
They sat in the kitchen, and the doctor told her he'd been responsible for the welfare of those sailors who'd been dragged from the ocean following the sinking of the Devonian. He assured her that he'd done everything in his power to save Harry's life, but unhappily he'd never regained consciousness. In fact, of the nine sailors he tended to that night, only one had survived, a Tom Bradshaw, the Devonian's third officer, who was evidently a friend of Harry's. Bradshaw had written a letter of condolence which Dr Wallace had promised to deliver to Mrs Clifton as soon as the Kansas Star returned to Bristol. He had kept his word. Maisie felt guilty the moment the doctor had left to return to his ship. She hadn't even offered him a cup of tea.