moment to say.’ He pauses and no one speaks. ‘In one sense this is
good timing.’
‘Why?’ asks Stephen.
‘Because certain of the investment options I’ve recommended
are . . . unconventional. They fall outside the scope of the normal UK regulations, which have yet to catch up with market develop-ments. And they’re beyond the jurisdiction of the FSA.’
‘Because they’re illegal?’
‘No, sir – sorry, Stephen. Absolutely not. I wouldn’t deal in unethical or unlawful products. The position is this: I have access to
unorthodox international streams of investment and financial
instruments that are, if you like, leading edge. The industry has yet to catch up. That’s why the prospective returns are higher than you might normally expect.’
‘What kinds of returns?’
‘It’s difficult to be precise, Betty. Obviously the value of investments can fluctuate. But with the spread of investments I’m
proposing, tied up for a five- year minimum period, I’d estimate an annual return of 15 per cent at the most pessimistic prediction,
which would see your capital over the five- year period appreciating by around 100 per cent. Much more likely is a return of 25 to 30 per cent per annum, and your investment in those circumstances would
appreciate almost fourfold.’
‘But there is risk?’ asks Betty.
‘There’s risk in everything,’ says Roy. ‘Even in crossing the road.’
Vincent looks at him for a moment. ‘There is risk, yes, within cer-
tain tolerances. Clearly I can’t look into a crystal ball, but I can assure you these investments are at the risk- averse end of the scale.
This is a prudent way of saving. Would you like to know more?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘You’ll have heard of the fast- growing economies of developing
nations. You may have heard the acronym BRIC?’
‘No.’
‘The BRIC economies are Brazil, Russia, India and China. I’m
not suggesting investing there. Brazil has suffered in the recession.
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The Chinese government is attempting to hold down growth to
reduce indebtedness. Russia is beset by corruption and political
issues. Their bubbles haven’t burst, far from it. You could make
decent returns still. But nothing like what could once be achieved, and the risk profile has ratcheted up. So I wouldn’t recommend
them. I’m turning more and more to other countries.’
‘Such as?’
‘Turkey, Malaysia and Indonesia. Nigeria possibly. These are
economies on the up. Largely down to three things: population
growth, an aspirational younger generation and enlightened eco-
nomic policies in government. Now, investments in these countries
aren’t for the novice. There are issues with each – corruption, for example. I’ve found the need to deal with a great degree of caution and discretion. I’ve recommended a spread of investments to
Mr Courtnay across all of these countries. I’ve recommended put-
ting less into Nigeria quite specifically because of issues of
corruption and fraud. You’ll be aware of the various crude scams
done by letter or email?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Then let me assure you again that I proceed with great
caution. One thing I do have to point out is the need for confiden-
tiality. The products and investments I’m about to describe aren’t
generally available. The institutions with which I’m working are
publicity- shy. None of this is unethical. What we’re doing when it comes down to it is assisting the growth of underdeveloped nations.
But it’s a matter regarded by those countries as private. I can’t stress this enough.’
He pauses and leans back to let them assimilate what he has said.
‘Now,’ he continues eventually, ‘I’ve had a preliminary look at the table of assets that you kindly filled out. I genuinely believe your assets could do better for you than your current portfolio. And I
think there are things I could well offer you.’
Betty smiles. ‘Well, that’s good news.’
‘Yes. I’ll need to go through all of your finances with you with
a fine- tooth comb, however. I hope you won’t find that too
intrusive.’
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‘I’m sure not, Vincent.’
‘One final thing.’
‘Yes?’
‘Something for you to think about. And Mr Courtnay too. There
is a way in which we can reduce the overheads and streamline the
portfolio we could limit introduction charges, transaction fees and administrative costs. They can mount up.’
‘I see,’ says Betty.
‘As I say, something to consider. It doesn’t change the advice I give you. It’s simply another thing to think about when making your
final decision. You can choose to invest separately or together.
Entirely up to you. Now, if I could run through this long list of
questions with you. Please interrupt if anything is unclear.’
2
‘I’m not really sure,’ says Stephen.
‘Nor am I,’ said Betty.
‘You’ve not had a lot of involvement in money matters,’ says Roy.
‘It’s natural you feel a little uneasy.’
Vincent has gone. They are looking at the sheaves of projections
and brochures he has left with them.
‘It’s all a bit bewildering,’ says Betty.
‘Hmm,’ says Stephen.
‘You trust Vincent, Roy?’ asks Betty.
‘With my life, Betty. As far as I’d trust anyone. I’m not stupid, you know.’
‘No, you’re not.’
‘It’s terribly difficult, I know. But I’ve never known Vincent’s
judgement to be wrong. He’s prudent. He spreads investments
between safe options and speculative ones. Perhaps the returns
don’t end up as spectacular as some, but at least you’re not staking all your money at the roulette wheel.’
‘That’s what it feels like,’ interjects Stephen.
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Roy passes him a sidelong glare but his voice carries a different
tone. ‘Of course you’re right. Of course that’s exactly how it will seem. But this is highly scientific, you know. Vincent has explained to me all about his logarithms and his computer programs. He
knows what he’s doing.’
‘Isn’t that what the bankers said before the crash?’
Roy sighed. ‘I think you’ll find that Vincent and his clients came
out of the crash rather well. Vincent’s not a herd animal. He does
the legwork and comes up with his own conclusions.’
‘So he doesn’t follow orthodox wisdom? That in itself sounds
risky to me.’
‘Perhaps you’d just better give your grandmother the space to
make up her own mind.’
‘No,’ says Betty. ‘I want to hear Stephen’s opinion. In fact if I go ahead I’d like Stephen to be fully involved. I’d like him to read all the prospectuses and other literature. I’d like him to apply his young
mind to things that my old one might miss.’
‘Of course, Betty. I didn’t mean to –’
‘No, of course not. It doesn’t matter. But S
tephen needs to be
involved. What’s your feeling, dear?’
‘I feel uneasy. No doubt Vincent’s very good at what he does and
Roy’s right to have faith in him. But you’re comfortably enough off without this, aren’t you?’
‘I suppose so. A little more wouldn’t go amiss. And I would like
to be able to leave something more substantial to you, your sister
and your parents, and to a couple of good causes.’
‘I’m sure we wouldn’t want it. We’re not interested in your
money. It’s only money, after all.’
‘Only money. Pah.’ It seems to spurt involuntarily from Roy.
‘There speaks someone who’s never been short.’
‘Quite,’ says Betty. ‘I understand your reservations, Stephen, but
I’m minded to go ahead. I’ll sleep on it. But unless I change my
mind overnight I think I’d like you to set things in motion with Vincent. Go through the literature, read the forms for me and make
sure I’m signing the right things, please.’
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She stands and crosses the kitchen to fill the kettle and switch
it on.
‘Cup of tea?’ she says brightly.
Roy casts Stephen a sly smirk. Stephen looks back equably.
3
It is quiet at last in the house. Stephen has left them and Betty has prepared a light sandwich supper. It is rare that either of them can manage a full meal these days.
‘Stephen’s quite right, you know,’ says Roy. ‘Concerned for your
best interests. You must be proud to have a grandson who cares so
much.’
She pours the tea. ‘Yes. But I’ve made up my mind.’
‘I thought you needed to think about it overnight.’
‘That was really for Stephen’s benefit. What Vincent said makes
absolute sense.’
‘Good. I wouldn’t want you churning it over in your mind
through the night. We’ll need to discuss what Vincent was saying
about a joint pot.’
‘It does seem to make sense, doesn’t it?’
‘Oh yes. I think so.’
‘I just need to be absolutely certain it’s the right thing.’
‘Of course. There was something else I wanted to talk about
with you.’
‘Yes?’
‘It’s timely, I think, as we embark on this joint venture. I thought we might wish to cement our relationship further.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asks quickly.
‘I’m not about to propose marriage, if that’s what you’re afraid
of,’ he says with a smile. ‘I reckon we’re both a bit long in the tooth for that kind of business. No, I was thinking we might take a leaf
out of these youngsters’ book and be a bit wild.’
‘In what way?’
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‘I was wondering whether we might think about sharing the big
bedroom. After all, when you’re in sight of the finishing post it’s nice to feel a little human warmth. I certainly miss that, of a night.
The sound of another’s breathing, even if you can’t sleep yourself.
It’s somehow soothing. It makes you feel all’s right with the world.’
She looks alarmed.
‘Oh no, not that,’ he continues. ‘Goodness me. Certainly not
that. That was over a long time ago, for me. No lead left in that particular pencil. Pardon me for my crudeness. I was just thinking,
sometimes I feel lonely. You must too. We can do each other a
favour and comfort each other. A nice cuddle in bed every so often
is all I was thinking.’
‘Well,’ she begins, ‘it’s a lovely idea. But we did agree when you
first moved in that our relationship would be for companionship,
not romance.’
‘Granted. But we’ve moved on from there. My feelings have
moved on. Yours haven’t?’
‘It’s not that, Roy. It’s certainly not that. It’s just that . . . Alasdair.’
‘I know you were very much attached to him.’
‘Yes. I’m sorry. I still feel an absurd bond of fidelity.’
‘It’s not absurd at all, Betty. It’s admirable.’
‘I just couldn’t, Roy. It’d feel like a betrayal of sorts.’
‘You don’t need to explain. I understand. It’s perfectly all right, of course.’
She smiles gratefully. ‘And anyway, I doubt that you or anyone
else could put up with my snoring.’
‘I simply can’t believe that you snore, Betty. You of all people.’
‘You’d better believe it. I snore for England. Have done for years.
It started in my fifties.’
‘Well then. It seems I’ve had a lucky escape. Friends?’
They grin at each other.
‘Yes, of course. Roy?’
‘Yes?’
‘You never say the word love, do you?’
‘Does anyone? In real life? Of our generation, at least? Men,
anyway?’
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‘I don’t know. But you certainly don’t use it. Not about the past.
Not about us.’
‘Would you like me to? Would that make you happier? Because I
can certainly have a go if you’d like. I’d feel awkward, but I can give it a bash. Because your happiness is of paramount importance to
me. I’ve grown very attached to you. Would you like me to speak of
love?’
She smiles. ‘No, that’s not what I meant. It just occurred to me. I wouldn’t like to force you to come up with something against your
conscience. And it is after all the English way, isn’t it? Not to speak of such things. We talk of fondness and attachment, because it’s
safe.’
‘Well, I suppose so. But if you’d like me to tell you I love you,
Betty, I’d most certainly do so.’
‘I’m sure you would, Roy. Thank you, but no. It really wasn’t
what I meant.’
He is relieved. The fact of the offer to share a life beyond com-
panionship, however bogus, may just have sealed the deal. Even
better that she declined. He would now not have to contemplate all
that, at least not for the moment.
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Chapter Twelve
May 1946
The Centre of Things
1
Berlin. Everything revolved around this city. Their six months in
Vienna had been fun, if that was the right word, but no one there
really wanted a full- scale search for the petty functionaries of the Nazi camps any more. The momentum was for speedy reconciliation and reconstruction, or as speedy as anything could be when
dealing with the Russians. The Western powers were now reason-
ably confident the Russians would pull back eastwards, keeping
Prague and Budapest in their ambit. Awkward characters like Roy
Courtnay and his interpreter, Hans Taub, their tenacity stoking dis-pute, were no longer required.
They had been assigned to Hannover, in the British occupied
zone of Germany, a relative backwater. They operated from a small
office opposite the main railway station. Hannover, like much of
the rest of the country, had been brought to rubble and to its knees.
Provincial and quiet, however, and they were allowed to go about
t
heir business with little interference from above, levering assistance from other military units by sheer force of character. Captain
Courtnay was persuasive and the British soldier of almost every
rank was generally up for sport now the war was over and the
clear- up had begun, especially if it involved hunting down the bad guys.
Courtnay’s superiors had little interest in his activities. They had bigger fish to fry and post- war military careers to cultivate. He reported nominally to a major but kept himself away from HQ as
far as possible. He had a staff of five: his secretary, three NCO clerks and his German interpreter, Taub. Hans Taub and he were jokingly
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known as the Gruesome Twosome, after the cartoon film that had
come out the previous year. They’d hit it off the moment Taub had
been sent from London.
They were physically alike: tall, blond and imposing. Taub pos-
sessed certainty. He had not had the benefits of a rural upbringing and the conditioning of a minor public school education, designed
to insinuate an inchoate feeling of inferiority. He was not an Eng-
lishman by birth, swimming in compromise, awkwardness and
embarrassment. Perhaps not all Englishmen were like Roy – or
indeed all Germans like Taub – but Roy found Hans’s lack of diffi-
dence liberating. Taub, the son of a liberal journalist who had fled Germany and later committed suicide and a mother who had been
executed in 1939, was brimful of certainty when he might have been
burdened by grief and doubt.
Roy discovered in himself something hidden yet always present, a
confidence that at times surged in his physicality, his enthusiasms and his judgements. He could now begin to give it expression. Hans’s
simple attitudes made his petty repressions seem self- indulgently
and unnecessarily complex.
Generally the two of them would go out to do the interviews. If
arrests were in the offing, a call to the military police would serve up a team of beefy, maleficent- looking men to help with the dirty work.
He was doing scarcely more than going through the motions.
The work didn’t challenge him; nor did it result in a particularly
greater good that he could discern. Most of it could be done within the zone. The majority of the camp underlings had not travelled
far. They could be picked up, like rabbits stationary in the head-