Best Kept Secret (The Clifton Chronicles, #3)(78)

‘Do you know when he’s expected to return?’

‘I think I heard Mr Martinez saying he’d be home on Friday afternoon.’

Sebastian decided not to ask any more questions, and simply said, ‘Thank you.’ The giant gave a curt nod, and slammed the door. Or was he just closing it?

Sebastian began running towards Sloane Square as he was determined to be back in time to help Mrs Tibbet with her German guests. He took the first bus heading in the direction of Paddington. Once he was back at No. 37 Praed Street, he joined Mrs Tibbet and Janice in the kitchen.

‘Did you have any luck, Seb?’ she asked even before he’d had the chance to sit down.

‘I managed to find out where Bruno lives,’ said Sebastian triumphantly, ‘and—’

‘Number forty-four Eaton Square,’ said Mrs Tibbet as she placed a plate of sausages and mash in front of him.

‘How do you know that?’

‘There’s a Martinez listed in the phone directory, but you’d already gone by the time I thought of that. Did you discover when he’s coming home?’

‘Yes, some time on Friday afternoon.’

‘Then I’m stuck with you for another couple of days.’ Sebastian looked embarrassed until she added, ‘Which could work out quite well, because the Germans are staying until Friday afternoon, so you—’ A firm rap on the door interrupted her thoughts. ‘If I’m not mistaken, that will be Mr Kroll and his friends. Come with me, Seb, and let’s find out if you can understand a word they’re saying.’

Sebastian reluctantly left his sausage and mash, and followed Mrs Tibbet. He’d caught up with her by the time she opened the front door.



He only managed to catch a few moments’ sleep during the next forty-eight hours, between lugging suitcases up and down the stairs, hailing taxis, serving drinks and, most important, translating a myriad questions, from ‘Where is the London Palladium?’ to ‘Do you know any good German restaurants?’, most of which Mrs Tibbet was able to answer without having to refer to a map or guidebook. On the Thursday evening, their last night, Sebastian blushed when he was asked a question to which he didn’t know the answer. Mrs Tibbet came to his rescue.

‘Tell them they’ll find all the girls they need at the Windmill Theatre in Soho.’

The Germans bowed low.

When they left on the Friday afternoon, Herr Kroll gave Sebastian a pound and shook him warmly by the hand. Sebastian handed the money to Mrs Tibbet, but she refused it, saying, ‘It’s yours. You’ve more than earned it.’

‘But I still haven’t paid for my board and lodging. And if I don’t, my grandmother, who used to be the manageress of the Grand Hotel in Bristol, would never let me hear the end of it.’

Mrs Tibbet took him in her arms. ‘Good luck, Seb,’ she said. When she finally let him go, she stood back and added, ‘Take your trousers off.’

Sebastian looked even more embarrassed than when Herr Kroll had asked him where he could find a strip joint.

‘I need to iron those, if you’re not going to look as if you’ve just come from work.’





31


‘I’M NOT SURE if he’s in,’ said a man Sebastian could never forget. ‘But I’ll check.’

‘Seb!’ a voice echoed down the marble corridor. ‘It’s so good to see you, old chap,’ Bruno added as he shook hands with his friend. ‘I was afraid I might never see you again, if the rumours were true.’

‘What rumours?’

‘Karl, please ask Elena to serve tea in the drawing room.’

Bruno led Sebastian into the house. At Beechcroft, Sebastian had always taken the lead, with Bruno his willing lieutenant. Now the roles were reversed as the guest followed his host down a corridor and into the drawing room. Sebastian had always thought he had been brought up in a degree of comfort, even luxury, but what greeted him when he entered the drawing room would have taken minor royalty by surprise. The paintings, the furniture, even the carpets wouldn’t have looked out of place in a museum.

‘What rumours?’ repeated Sebastian nervously, as he took a seat on the edge of the sofa.

‘I’ll come to that in a moment,’ said Bruno. ‘But first, tell me why you left so suddenly? One minute you were sitting with Vic and me in the study, and the next you’d disappeared.’

‘Didn’t the headmaster say anything at morning assembly the next day?’

‘Not a word, which only added to the mystery. Everyone had a theory of course, but as both the housemaster and Banks-Williams were silent as the grave, no one knew what was fact and what was fiction. I asked Matron, that fount of all knowledge, but she clammed up whenever your name was mentioned. Most unlike her. Vic feared the worst, but then his glass is always half empty. He was convinced you’d been expelled and that was the last we’d hear of you, but I told him we’d all meet up again at Cambridge.’

‘I’m afraid not,’ said Sebastian. ‘Vic was right.’ He then told his friend everything that had happened since his interview with the headmaster earlier in the week, leaving Bruno in no doubt how devastated he was to have lost his place at Cambridge.

When he came to the end of his story, Bruno said, ‘So that’s why Hilly-Billy called me to his study after assembly on Wednesday morning.’