The Business

'I see.'

'Any road, in the end it isn't my house, Ms Telman.  Never was.  I am a servant; he could have dismissed me at any time.  I don't mean that he ever threatened me with that, or ever reminded me of it, just that it's always at the back of your mind.'

'Well, that can't happen now.'

She nodded. 'It was very good of Mr Ferrindonald to leave me the flat and to provide for me.'

'Will you stay here once it's handed over to the National Trust?'

She looked mildly shocked. 'Of course.'

'I imagine they might want to employ you.  Actually, I think they'd be foolish not to.  Would you work for them?'

'I might.' She nodded. 'It would depend.  If I was wanted, I'd be happy to.'

'I suspect Uncle Freddy would have liked that.'

'Do you?'

'Definitely.'

She looked round again, took a deep breath and said, 'This has been my love, Ms Telman, this place.  I've been in service here one way or another for nearly fifty years, since I left school, for your uncle, his business, the army and the Cowle family.  I've never thought to marry, never wanted to.  Blysecrag's been all I've ever needed.' She lifted her head up. 'There are those here and in the village who think I've missed out on life, but I don't think I have, not at all.  There's plenty of others to fall in love and have lots of children.  I've given my life to this house, and I haven't regretted it…well, not for more than an hour or two at a time, and then not often.' She gave a small, flickering, vulnerable smile. 'We all have our blues, don't we?  But I wouldn't have changed anything, if I could have.' She laughed lightly and swirled her whisky as she looked at it. 'Goodness me, listen to me.  I'll be dancing on the tables next.'

I raised my glass. 'To Blysecrag,' I said.

And so we drank a toast to the place, and maybe to places in general.

'Suvinder?  Hi.  How are you?'

'Oh, Kathryn.  I'm sorry.  I did not mean to call you.  I must have pressed the wrong button.  Umm.  Are you well?  You sound sleepy.'

'That's okay.  I'm fine.  You all right?'

'I am well, but I had better go or you will be upset with me.  Say you forgive me for calling you so late.'

'I forgive you.'

'I bid you good night, Kathryn.'

'Good night, sweet prince.'

'Oh, Kathryn!'

'That's a quotation, Suvinder.'

'I know!  But you said it to me!  I shall sleep well.  Good night, dearest Kathryn.'

I rang Adrian Poudenhaut the following morning.  He was in Italy, picking up his new Ferrari from the factory in Modena; he'd be driving it back to the UK over the next couple of days.  I told him I wanted to meet up with him and he sounded surprised, so I reckoned Madame Tchassot hadn't said anything to him.  We arranged to rendezvous in Switzerland the following day.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Miss Heggies drove me to York in her old Volvo estate.  I think we both had slight hangovers.  I took a GNER train to London (tea reasonable; opened the lap-top but beyond playing a few variations with the calculator on a certain ten-figure number, didn't do anything, just sat staring out of the window and decided the best bit of the East Coast main line was definitely from York northwards, not south; played k. d. lang's Ingenue on the Walkman and sang along in my head.  Where is your head, indeed, Kathryn?).  Taxi to Heathrow (a

Switzerland.  Where the money comes.  I have mixed feelings about the place.  On the one hand it is sumptuously beautiful in a rugged, blatant and snowy way, and everything works.  On the other hand they shout at you for crossing the street when there's no traffic visible for miles, just because the crossing signal is showing a red man not a green man, and if you pass them in a car doing a kilometre more than the legal limit, they honk their horns and flash their lights.

Plus, it's where all the Third World dictators and other assorted robbing bastards stash the loot they've sucked out of their own countries and their own people.  This is a whole country where money goes to money; this is one of the richest nations on Earth, and some of the dosh comes from some of the poorest countries (who, once they've been bled dry by the latest thieving scumbag, then get the IMF stepping in with orders to Tighten Their Belts ).

Somehow, being whisked along the N1 towards Lausa

Fuck me, I thought, I'm going native.  I gave a single snort of laughter through my nose.  Hans the white-haired driver glanced at me, saw I wasn't trying to attract his attention, and promptly looked away again.  I slipped Joni M's latest into the Walkman, but only half listened.

I'd left my phone off for the journey as far as Geneva.  I'd switched it back on when I got into the BMW but deliberately hadn't checked on any messages or previous callers.  It rang as we were passing Vevey and turning up into the mountains for the long loop round to Château d'Oex.  I looked at the incoming number.  I found myself smiling.

'Hello?'

'Kathryn.'

'Suvinder.  How are you?'

'I am well.  I thought I might call at a more civilised hour and enquire how everything went at Freddy's funeral.  It was bad enough that I could not come myself, but, well, there was so much to be done here, and I had just come back.  Did it all go…I don't know the right word.  Fittingly?'

'It did.  A Viking's funeral.' (I had to explain to Suvinder about what a Viking's funeral was.) 'And Miss Heggies sends her regards.'

'That is kind of her.  She always made me feel most welcome.'

'I used to find her scary at first, but I had a good long talk to her at just last night.'  I looked up at the mountains around us.

'Yes?  Kathryn?  Hello.'

'Sorry.  Yes.  A good talk.  Suvinder?'

'Yes?'

'Nah.  Nothing.' I'd been going to say I might be back in Thulahn before too long, but I didn't know how to say something like that to him without investing it with too much in the way of implication.  So I settled for, 'How is everybody?'

'All here are well, though my mother learned of my proposal to you and was highly upset.  She is still not speaking to me, for which alone I owe you a favour, I think.'