William stood at the bottom of the stairs watching Charlie disappear. He called goodnight, then turned his attention to Justin and indicated the study. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.
Justin raised his eyebrows. ‘What on earth do you think is going on? I missed you so I came over. You called enough times, I thought you’d be pleased to see me.’ He laid his hand on William’s arm.
William shook it off. ‘Cut the crap. What do you want?’
‘Oh!’ squealed Justin. ‘Mr Tough Guy.’
‘Is it money you’re after?’
Justin sat down beside him, and pulled out a large file from his case. ‘Look, the trap is set.’ He tossed a wad of newspaper cuttings about the island on to William’s lap. ‘It’s finished, all set up. It’s up to you now. If you need my help you can have it. If not I’ll be off.’
William started to look over the cuttings. Suddenly the phone rang. ‘Who the hell...?’ William lifted the receiver. ‘Yup?’
It was Mrs Harper-Nathan. ‘Thank goodness you’re there, Sir William. I’ve been trying to get hold of Lady Benedict but there’s no reply.’ William wished she’d get to the point. ‘Sir William, I’m afraid your daughter has gone missing.’
‘But I only saw her this afternoon.’
‘Well, she did leave a note, but she’s packed her case and left. We were rather hoping she might have come to you.’
‘What does the note say?’ There was an embarrassed pause. ‘Well?’ asked William.
‘Well,’ said Mrs Harper-Nathan, ‘it seems she has eloped with the school caretaker’s son. She says in the note that she’s pregnant by him. I’ve spoken to the caretaker. He thinks his son is staying in a squat in Notting Hill Gate, above a pub. The Six Bells, I think he said.’ There was a short silence. ‘I’m so sorry, Sir William.’
‘The boy’s name?’
‘Jacob Mkomazi.’
‘Fax me that note. And, Mrs Harper-Nathan, no police, no press.’ He hung up.
‘Bad news?’ Justin asked.
William gave a gesture of despair and went into Michael’s office. Justin trailed after him, and by the time the fax had come through, William had told him about Sabrina. ‘It’s one bloody thing after another,’ he muttered, passing the fax for Justin to read. ‘First my son, now my daughter. Dear God, if the press get hold of either story they’ll have a field day.’
Justin was pulling on his jacket. ‘Look, William, you may be knackered, you certainly look it, and I know there’s trouble, but the best way of dealing with trouble is action. Okay?’ He was holding the door open. ‘I’ll drive you wherever you want to go.’
Justin and William sped off in William’s sports car to Notting Hill Gate. They cruised the streets until William spotted the Ten Bells. ‘That must be it,’ he shouted.
Justin swerved into the kerb. It was pouring with rain. William got out; crossed the pavement and pushed open the graffiti-covered side-door. The dank, carpetless hall smelt of urine and stale food, overridden by the powerful smell of ganja, which made William’s head reel. There were several doors, and the sound of a jazz trumpet mingled with televisions and muted voices, then, eerily, a loud, cackling laugh.
He knocked at one door and received no reply. Looking down the dingy hall he saw that there was a basement, and another apartment further along. He decided to listen at each flat, rather than knocking. On the third floor, he heard Sabrina laugh, a joyful sound, so unlike the bitter, hard little girl he had encountered that afternoon.
He rapped lightly and waited. The door inched open and a tall, handsome boy with shoulder-length dreadlocks looked down at him. ‘Yeah?’
‘I’m Sabrina’s father,’ William said. The boy gave a half-smile before he turned back to the room.
‘Tell him to go fuck himself!’ came Sabrina’s high-pitched voice.
The boy turned back to William and his beautiful, dark, slanting eyes twinkled. ‘Guess she don’t want to see you, sir.’
‘Don’t call him “sir”, Jacob. You don’t ever have to call anyone sir, and especially not him. Shut the door.’
Jacob turned to William. ‘She don’t want to see you.’
He was about to shut the door when William stuck out his hand. ‘Listen, Jacob. I want to see my daughter, and I want to talk to her. It’ll take a few minutes then I’ll walk away. She need never see me again if that’s what she wants.’
Jacob hesitated, then swung the door open.
Sabrina was lying on a moth-eaten couch, with a portable TV set balanced at one end amongst cans of Coke, packets of crisps and a bowl of apples. The room was untidy and dirty. Even the bed in one corner had not been made. Jacob gestured to a dilapidated wing-back armchair, the stuffing and springs bulging out, barely concealed by a big wool rug that had been thrown over it. Two guitars and a set of conga drums were stashed beside it.
‘Sit down,’ Jacob said, hitching up his jeans. He wore an old miner’s shirt with a knitted sweater over it, dirty sneakers and no socks. ‘You want some coffee?’ he asked.
‘Yes, please,’ William said, easing himself into the chair, afraid it would collapse under him.
‘You want a milkshake, Sabby?’
‘Okay.’ She had not even looked at her father.
‘Be two minutes.’ Jacob opened her purse and took out some money.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d have to go out for it,’ William said, but the door closed. Then he turned to his daughter. ‘You’re pregnant?’ he said.
‘I’m not going back to school. Never, never, never. Okay?’
William looked at the guitars and asked if Jacob played in a band. She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Right now he’s cleaning tables in a bar,’ she said defiantly.
‘You need money?’ he asked.
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, it didn’t take you long to get around to that, did it? Listen, I don’t need a cent from you, I’ve got my trust fund.’
‘And the fairies made that up for you, did they? Well, you can’t get your hands on that till you’re twenty-one. That’s quite a few years to wait. If you’re having a baby, you’re gonna need more space than one room.’
She was unsure how to take what he had said. He hadn’t been angry — in fact he seemed to have accepted her situation.
‘Are you going to get married?’ he asked.
She laughed humourlessly. ‘Yeah, all in white with four bridesmaids.’
‘Do you love him, or are you just doing this to get back at me?’ He moved closer.
She nodded as tears spilled down her cheeks. ‘Please go away,’ she whispered.
‘I will, but we need to talk about maternity bills, hospitals...’
‘For fuck’s sake don’t tell me to get a nanny! I had my fill of those. This baby is all mine. At last, something of my own that no one can take away from me. We’re going to bring it up, me and Jacob.’
William reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. Again she asked him to leave, but this time without anger. He stood up and laid his hand on her head. ‘I love you. If you ever need me, I’ll be there. Take care of yourself, Sabrina, and I hope you’ll be a lot happier with Jacob than I ever was with your mother. I’ll call her and tell her you’re looking well and happy.’
William sat on the stairs waiting for Jacob to return. He came in carrying a cardboard tray with their coffees and the milkshake.
‘Hi,’ William said, trying to appear relaxed.
‘Hi. She’s into these milkshakes and crisps.’
‘You’re lucky. With her mother it was pâté de foie gras and champagne. Sit down, Jacob.’
Jacob squashed down beside him, his long legs stretched out as he passed over the coffee.
‘You are going to marry my daughter?’ William asked, removing the lid and dripping coffee over his raincoat.