The tingling sensation subsided, and she returned to her room, struggling to close the heavy, unwieldy shutters. She started to pack her cases.
To her friend’s astonishment, Jinks left first thing in the morning for New York. She had always tried to prepare herself for the death of her father, but it had come sooner than she anticipated. She felt no loss, but an excitement, a release... She felt free.
Evelyn Barkley had been sentenced to eighteen months’ imprisonment, the judge accepting his innocence of the acts of terrorism. At the same time, however, Evelyn had voluntarily financed the terrorists’ activities, and thus aided their cause.
He had already been in jail for five months, so he would, with good behaviour, be released in three to four months’ time. But his lawyer’s request for him to be allowed to serve the sentence in England was refused.
When he was led away to begin his sentence, he was told he would be allowed a few minutes alone with his father. He was coming to say goodbye before returning to England.
Alex had sat in court every day during the hearing. He had been supportive, attentive to Evelyn’s every need, and in return his son gave him a warm but respectful show of affection. He wanted, needed, to give Alex his solemn oath that on his release he would prove to his father and his uncle that everything they had done for him was worthwhile.
Evelyn was shocked at his father’s appearance. It was as though he had aged ten years in a matter of hours. Evelyn made an involuntary move towards him, but he stepped back. Knowing there was something terribly wrong, Evelyn placed a chair beside his father because he looked about to collapse.
‘He’s dead, I just got a call as I left the court. They want me to identify the body — I’m sorry, but I will have to go.’
Evelyn could not touch him. Alex seemed to recoil from any physical contact. He was so shocked, at a loss, and his confusion had a helpless, childlike quality to it. He clutched his briefcase, half rose, then sat down again. ‘Anything you need, the lawyer... er, the lawyer...’
‘It’s all right, father, you go and do what you have to. I’ll write, and... I’ll be home soon. Thank you for all you’ve done...’
‘All I’ve done? It was Edward, Edward... Eddie? Eddie?’
Alex stared around the room, repeating his brother’s name, then turned as his chauffeur appeared at the door. Evelyn watched as Alex slowly walked out, leaning heavily on the man’s arm for support. When he turned back his eyes were brimming with tears.
‘One time at school, this bully punched me and another kid. Eddie came in with fists flying, an’ he got a right shiner. Ma found us and demanded to know what was going on. Eddie said... he said, “Eh, Ma, this bully punched me an’ Alex and this kid, it’s not our fault.”’ Alex said it softly, more to the room than his son. He gave a strange, sad smile, then abruptly walked out. Now that Edward was gone he was trying to find an excuse for him, but there was none. In the end he was still the Big Bad Wolf.
Chapter Thirty-Two
At the mortuary Alex was handed the gold medallion with the single word ‘Stubbs’ engraved on one side. He turned it over in the palm of his hand. He held it tight, afraid someone might take it from him. There were also Edward’s charred wallet and papers, but he could not bring himself to touch them.
Barbara was waiting at the airport, and she too was shocked at her husband’s appearance. She helped him into the Rolls, and instructed the chauffeur to take them straight home. They were being flooded with calls, and Barbara had hired a secretary to fend off all the enquiries.
The news stands carried posters, ‘TYCOON DIES’. Evelyn’s trial was no longer front-page news.
Edward Barkley’s remains were flown back to England, and Barbara set about arranging the funeral. Alex wanted a small, quiet ceremony with only the family — Barbara could go to town on the memorial service if she wished. Barbara fully intended it to be unforgettable in the hope that it would cover her embarrassment at their son’s imprisonment.
Jinks did not come to the funeral, but sent a small wreath. She telephoned to say she would arrive in time for the memorial service. Edward’s ashes were left at the crematorium, with a small plaque saying simply, ‘Edward Barkley, 1924–1987’.
Alex finally went to the office. Miss Henderson was wearing black, and was obviously distressed. Aware that she cared a great deal for his brother, Alex offered her as much time off as she wanted.
The building seemed empty, and everyone was shocked and uneasy. Suddenly there was no ‘king’. Edward’s death had left his throne empty and yet unattainable. Alex could not bear to look in the direction of Edward’s office door, where his name still hung on a black plaque. It reminded Alex of Edward’s grave, and Alex could not climb into that vacant throne.
Alex coped with the many necessary meetings, long overdue because of Alex’s absence and the death of his brother. The French police had investigated the accident, even at one time hinting that Edward’s car could have had explosives planted in it. Alex dismissed these far-fetched theories, as there were police witnesses to the fact that Edward had been driving at over a hundred miles an hour when he crashed. However, when he was alone he did consider the possibility. Edward had made contact with a lot of unsavoury people to enable him to bribe Evelyn’s partners in crime. At one point he even made out a list — there were more people than he cared to think about who might want his brother dead. Even George Windsor had given him a look that seemed to say how fortuitous Edward’s accident was. Alex made a conscious decision to forget the whole thing, but it still hung over him like a small, black cloud, whether he liked it or not. Edward had had many enemies — at one time Alex had numbered himself among them. But at the end he could honestly say they were friends, brothers once more.
Eventually Alex could no longer put off entering Edward’s office. There were papers to be found, documents to be signed. The executors of the estate were in constant contact. The will would take a long time to sort out. They were having difficulty tracing some of the many beneficiaries, and Edward had stipulated so many conditions. Alex was not overly concerned — he did, after all, know exactly what his brother’s will contained, or the bulk of it. He was the sole heir, everything came to him, and so the delay did not concern him over much. He had so many other matters to deal with.
Edward’s death also helped considerably over the allegations of insider dealing. It enabled Alex to cover his tracks, and by the time he had finished there was not one iota of proof against him — any illegal transactions had been swept under the carpet, or rather into Edward’s grave. All the blame was down to his brother — Alex was, and always had been, above reproach.
The portrait of Edward dominated the office. There was still the old wooden panelling, the vast oak desk. When Alex entered, he realized for the first time what Edward had meant by power. It took his breath away, and he felt it from every square inch of the room. Now it came home to him, now the power was his, and his alone. It all belonged to him — at long last, Alex had everything.
He experienced a tremendous surge of energy, and slowly everyone began to notice — it was as if Alex had taken on Edward’s persona. He was more confident, more outgoing, and now he began to take an interest in the arrangements for the memorial service. He knew he was still on the current year’s Honours List, and began to like the sound of ‘Sir Alex Barkley’. The throne was no longer empty, the empire had a king, and it was Alex. The company swung back into action under his control.