This Was a Man (The Clifton Chronicles #7)(98)

‘Yes, I’m sorry to say there is, chairman, and I’m not quite sure how to handle it.’ Ashley opened a file marked private and shuffled through some papers. Seb was surprised to see that a man who’d played front row for the Harlequins, and never hesitated to face any member of the board head on, was now clearly embarrassed.

‘Spit it out, John.’

‘A Miss Candice Lombardo has recently opened an account with the bank, and her guarantor is the deputy chairman.’

‘So that’s her name,’ said Seb.

‘You know her?’

‘Let’s just say I’ve come across her. So what’s the problem?’

‘She withdrew five thousand pounds yesterday, without having a penny in her account, to purchase a mink coat from Harrods.’

‘Why did you clear the cheque?’

‘Because Victor has guaranteed her overdraft and I don’t have the authority to put a stop on it without consulting him.’

‘Cedric Hardcastle will be turning in his grave,’ said Seb, looking up at the portrait of the bank’s founding chairman. ‘He used to be fond of saying never say never, unless you’re asked to sign a personal guarantee.’

‘Should I have a word with Victor?’

Seb leant back and thought about the suggestion for a few moments. Hakim had managed to convince Victor to remain on the board, and even take up the post of deputy chairman, so the last thing Seb needed was to give him any reason to change his mind.

‘Do nothing,’ he eventually said. ‘But keep me briefed if Miss Lombardo presents any more cheques.’

Ashley nodded, but didn’t make a note in his file.

‘I thought you’d also want to know,’ he continued, ‘that your daughter’s account is overdrawn by ￡104.60. Not a large amount, I know, but you did ask me to brief you, following—’

‘I did indeed,’ said Seb. ‘But to be fair, John, I’ve just paid her a thousand pounds for seven of her drawings.’

Ashley opened a second file and checked another bank statement. ‘She hasn’t presented that cheque, chairman. In fact, her only recent deposit was for two hundred and fifty pounds from a Richard Langley.’

‘The name doesn’t mean anything to me,’ said Seb. ‘But keep me informed.’ Ashley frowned. ‘What does that look mean?’

‘Just that on balance, I’d prefer to deal with the chairman of Cunard than your daughter.’





42


THE FOUR OF THEM sat in the drawing room looking distinctly uncomfortable.

‘It’s so nice to meet you at last,’ said Samantha, pouring Richard a cup of tea.

‘You too, Mrs Clifton,’ said the young man who sat nervously opposite her.

‘How did you two meet?’ asked Seb.

‘We bumped into each other at the Slade Founder’s Prize exhibition,’ said Jessica.

‘I go to all the college art shows,’ said Richard, ‘in the hope of spotting a new talent before they’re snapped up by a West End dealer, when I’ll no longer be able to afford them.’

‘How very sensible,’ said Samantha, as she offered her guest a cucumber sandwich.

‘Picked up anything worthwhile recently?’ asked Sebastian.

‘A coup,’ said Richard, ‘a veritable coup. A set of remarkable line drawings by an unknown artist, entitled The Seven Ages of Woman, that won the Founder’s Prize. I couldn’t believe my luck when I heard the price.’

‘Forgive me for mentioning it,’ said Seb, ‘but I’m surprised you can afford a thousand pounds on a teacher’s salary.’

‘I didn’t pay a thousand pounds, sir, just two hundred and fifty. And I only just had enough left in my account to take the artist out to supper.’

‘But I thought—’ Seb didn’t complete the sentence when he noticed Samantha glaring at him and his daughter looking embarrassed. He decided to change tack. ‘I’d be willing to offer you a couple of thousand for those drawings. Then you can take the artist out for supper regularly.’

‘They’re not for sale,’ said Richard, ‘and they never will be.’

‘Three thousand?’

‘No, thank you, sir.’

‘Perhaps you’d consider a deal, Richard. If you were ever to give up my daughter, you’d sell the drawings back to me for two thousand pounds.’

‘Sebastian!’ said Samantha sharply. ‘Richard is Jessica’s friend, not a client, and in any case it’s outside banking hours.’

‘Not a hope, sir,’ said Richard. ‘I don’t intend to part with either your daughter or the drawings.’

‘You can’t win them all, Pops,’ said Jessica with a grin.

‘But if Jessie were to give you up,’ said Seb, as if he was chasing a million-pound deal, ‘would you reconsider then?’

‘Forget it, Pops. That’s not going to happen. You’ve lost the drawings, and you’re about to lose your daughter, because I’m planning to move in with Richard,’ she said, taking his hand.

Sebastian was about to suggest that perhaps . . . when Samantha jumped in.

‘That’s wonderful news. Where will you be living?’