“Then this must be our best chance to make a move?” said Mellor.
“I wish it were that easy,” said Knowles, “but unfortunately young Kaufman has begun negotiating a merger with Farthings. He and Sebastian Clifton were at school together, even shared a study, so Clifton’s got the inside track.”
“Then let’s make sure he trips up as he comes around the final bend,” said Sloane.
“I also picked up another useful piece of information,” continued Knowles. “It seems that Ross Buchanan intends to step down as chairman of Farthings some time in the New Year, and Hakim Bishara will take his place, with Clifton as CEO of the newly formed Farthings Kaufman Bank.”
“Will the Bank of England go along with such a cozy little arrangement?”
“They’ll turn a blind eye, especially now Bishara has ingratiated himself with the City. He’s somehow managed to get himself accepted as part of the establishment.”
“But,” interjected Mellor, “doesn’t the new government legislation demand that any proposed bank merger has to be vetted by the City regulators? So there’s nothing to stop us putting in a counterbid and stirring things up.”
“What’s the point, when we couldn’t begin to challenge Bishara’s deep pockets? All we could do is hold the process up, and even that wouldn’t come cheap, as we found to our cost last time.”
“Is there anything else we can do to prevent the merger?” asked Mellor.
“We could so damage Bishara’s reputation with the Bank of England,” said Sloane, “that they wouldn’t consider him a fit and proper person to run one of the City’s larger financial institutions.”
“We tried that once before,” Mellor reminded him, “and failed.”
“Only because our plan wasn’t foolproof. This time I’ve come up with something that will make it impossible for the City regulators to allow the merger to go ahead, and Bishara would have to resign as chairman of Farthings.”
“How can that be possible?” asked Mellor.
“Because convicted criminals are not allowed to serve on the board of a bank.”
16
“Am I ugly?”
“Need you ask?” said Clive Bingham as he sat at the bar sipping a pint of beer.
“And stupid?”
“Never in any doubt,” said Victor Kaufman.
“Then that explains it.”
“Explains what?” asked Clive.
“My uncle took me to Lord’s last Thursday.”
“To watch England thrash the Indians.”
“True, but I met this girl...”
“Ah, the fog is lifting,” said Victor.
“And you fancied her,” said Clive.
“Yes, and what’s more, I thought she quite liked me.”
“Then she must be dumb.”
“But when I called her the next day and asked her to dinner, she turned me down.”
“I like the sound of this woman.”
“So as we both work in the City, I suggested lunch.”
“And she still spurned you?”
“Out of hand,” said Seb. “So I asked her if she—”
“Would consider dispensing with the meals and—”
“No, if she’d like to see Laurence Olivier in The Merchant of Venice.”
“And she still turned you down?”
“She did.”
“But you can’t get tickets for that show even from touts,” said Victor.
“So I’ll ask you again. Am I ugly?”
“We’ve already established that,” said Clive, “so all that’s left to discuss is which one of us will be your date for Merchant.”
“Neither of you. I haven’t given up yet.”
“I thought you told me you liked Sebastian?”
“I did. He was wonderful company for a day I’d been dreading,” said Priya.
“So why did you turn him down?” asked her flatmate.
“It was just unfortunate that on all three days he asked me out, I already had something else on.”
“And you couldn’t rearrange any of them?” asked Jenny.
“No, my father had invited me to the ballet on Wednesday evening. Margot Fonteyn in Swan Lake.”
“OK, I’ll accept that one. Next?”
“On Thursday, my boss asked me to attend a lunch he was giving for an important client who was flying in from New Delhi.”
“Fair enough.”
“And on Friday I always do my hair.”
“Pathetic.”
“I know! But by the time I’d thought about it, he was no longer on the line.”
“Pathetic,” Jenny repeated.
“And worse, Dad rang the next day to say something had come up and he had to fly to Bombay, and would I like the tickets. Fonteyn in Swan Lake. Can I tempt you, Jenny?”
“You bet. But I’m not going with you, because you are going to call Sebastian, tell him your father can’t make it and ask him if he’d like to join you.”
“I can’t do that,” said Priya. “I couldn’t possibly phone a man and ask him out.”
“Priya, it’s 1971. It’s no longer frowned upon for a woman to ask a man out.”
“It is in India.”
“But we’re not in India, just in case you hadn’t noticed. And what’s more, you phone men all the time.”
“No, I do not.”
“Yes you do. It’s part of your job, and you’re rather good at it.”
“That’s different.”
“So it would be all right to call Sebastian and discuss the drop in interest rates, but not to invite him to the ballet.”
“Perhaps he’ll call me again.”
“And perhaps he won’t.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to see Fonteyn?”
“Of course I do. And if you give me the tickets I’ll phone Sebastian and ask him if he’d like to be my date.”
“There’s a Jenny Barton on line one, Mr. Clifton.”
“Jenny Barton, Jenny Barton... Doesn’t ring a bell. Did she say which company she’s from?”
“No, she said it was a personal matter.”
“I can’t place her, but I suppose you’d better put her through.”
“Good morning, Mr. Clifton. You don’t know me, but I share a flat with Priya Ghuman.” Seb nearly dropped the phone. “You rang Priya yesterday and invited her to dinner.”
“And lunch, and the theatre, all of which she turned down.”
“Which she now regrets, so if you were to call her again, I think you’ll find she might be free on Wednesday night after all.”
“Thank you, Miss Barton,” said Seb. “But why didn’t she call herself?”
“You may well ask. Because after what she told me about you, I certainly wouldn’t have turned you down.” The line went dead.
“I had no idea you were interested in the ballet, Sebastian. I always think of you as more of a theatre buff.”
“You’re quite right, Mother. In fact it will be my first visit to the Royal Opera House.”
“Then be warned, don’t bother to have lunch.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s all very civilized at Covent Garden. You have dinner throughout the evening. They serve the first course before the curtain goes up, the main course during the long interval, and coffee, cheese and biscuits after the curtain comes down. Who are you taking?”
“I’m not. I’m a guest.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Stop fishing, Mother.”
Sebastian arrived at the Royal Opera House a few minutes before seven, surprised by how nervous he felt. But then, as Clive had so helpfully reminded him, it was his first date for some time. He scanned the crowd streaming through the front doors, and then he saw her. Not that he could have missed her. Priya’s long dark hair and deep brown eyes were complemented by a striking red silk dress that made him feel she should be gracing the cover of Vogue rather than hidden away analyzing profits and losses in the deep recesses of a bank. Her face lit up the moment she spotted him.