第 16 页

'Wash first, my lad, wash first. We don't want your horrible smells worrying Mr. Prendergast so early in the morning, do we?'

Wladek was unsure which part of himself to wash, so unusually clean did he feel himself to be. The corporal was staring at him.

'What's wrong with your leg, lad?'

'Nothing, nothing,' said Wladek, turning himself away from the staring eyes.

'Right. I'll be back in three minutes. Three minutes, do you hear, my lad, be sure you're ready.'

Wladek washed his hands and face quickly and then dressed. He was waiting at the end of the bed in his long bearskin coat when the corporal returned to take him to the second consul. Mr. Prendergast welcomed him and seemed to have softened considerably since their first meeting.

'Good morning, Koskiewicz.'

'Good morning, sir.'

'Did you enjoy your breakfast?'

'I no had breakfast, sir.'

"Why not?' said the second consul, looking towards the corporal.

'Overslept, I'm afraid, sir. He would have been late for You.

'Well, we must see what we can do about that. Corporal, will you ask Mrs. Henderson to try and rustle up an apple or something?'

'Yes, sir.'

Wladek and the Second Consul walked slowly along the corridor towards the embassy front door, and across the pebbled courtyard to a waiting car, an Austin, one of the few engine driven vehicles in Turkey and Wladek's first journey in one. He was sorry to be leaving the British embassy. It was the first place in which he had felt safe for years. He wondered if he was ever going to sleep more than one night in the same bed for the rest of his life. The corporal ran down the steps and took the driver's seat. He passed Wladek an apple and some fresh warm bread.

'See there are no crumbs left in the car, lad. The cook sends her compliments!'

He drive through the hot busy streets was conducted at walking pace as the Turks did not believe anything could go faster than a camel, and made no attempt to clear a path for the little Austin. Even with all the windows open Wladek was sweating from the oppressive heat while Mr. Prendergast remained quite cool and unperturbed. Wladek hid himself in the back of the car for fear that someone who had witnessed the previous day's events might recognise him and stir the mob to anger again. When the little black Austin came to a halt outside a small decaying building marked 'Konsulat Polski', Wladek felt a twinge of excitement mingled with disappointment.

The three of them climbed out.

"Where's the apple core, boy?' demanded the corporaL.

'I eat him.'

The corporal laughed and knocked on the door. A friendly-looking little man with dark hair and firm jaw opened the door to them. He was in shirt slee-~es and deeply tanned, obviously by the Turkish sun. He addressed them in Polish. His words were the first Wladek had heard in his native tongue since leaving the labour camp. Wladek answered quickly, explaining his presence. His fellow countryman turned to the British second consul.

'This way, Mr. Prendergast,' he said in perfect English. 'It was good of you to bring the boy over personally!

A few diplomatic niceties were exchanged before Prendergast and the corporal took their leave. Wladek gazed at them, fumbling for an English expression more adequate than 'Thank you.'

Prendergast patted Wladek on the head as he might a cocker spaniel. The corporal closed the door, and winked at Wladek. 'Good luck, my lad; God knows you deserve it.'

The Polish consul introduced himself to Wladek as Pawel Zaleski. Again Wladek was required to recount the story of his life, finding it easier in Polish than he had in English. Pawel Zaleski heard him out in silence, shaking his head sorrowfully.

'My poor child,' he said heavily. 'You have borne more than your share of our country's suffering for one so young. And now what are we to do with you?'

'I must return to Poland and reclaim my castle,' said Wladek.

'Poland,' said Pawel ZaleskL "Where's that? The area of land where you lived remains in dispute and there is still heavy fighting going on between the Poles and the Russians. General Piludski is doing all he can to protect the territorial integrity of our fatherland. But it would be foolish for any of us to be optimistic. There is little left for you now in Poland. No, your best plan would be to start a new life in England or America.'

'But I don't want to go to England or America. I am Polish!'

'You will always be Polish, Wladek, no one can take that away from you wherever you decided to settle, but you must be realistic about your life - which hasn't even begun.'

Wladek lowered his head in despair. Had he gone through all this only to be told he could never return to his native land? He fought back the tears.

Pawel Zaleski put his arm round the boy's shoulders. 'Never forget that you are one of the lucky ones who escaped and came out of the holocaust alive. You only have to remember your friend, Doctor Dubien, to be aware of what life might have been like.'

Wladek didn't speak.

'Now, you must put all thoughts of the past behind you and think only for the future, Wladek, and perhaps in your lifetime you will see Poland rise again, which is more than I dare hope for.'

Wladek remained silent.

'Well, there's no need to make an immediate decision,' said the consul kindly. 'You can stay here for as long as it takes you to decide on your future.'

10

The future was something that was worrying Anne. The first few months of her marriage were happy, marred only by her anxiety over William's increasing dislike of Henry, and her new husband's seeming inability to start working. Henry was a little touchy on the point, explaining to Anne that he was still disorientated by the war and that he wasn't willing to rush into something he might well have to stick with for the rest of his life. She found this hard to swallow and finally it brought on their first row.

'I don't understand why you haven't opened that real estate business you used to be so keen on, Henry!

'I can't. The time isn't quite right. The real estate market's not looking that promising at the mornent.'

'You've been saying that now for nearly a year; I wonder if it will ever be promising enough for you:

'Sure it will; truth is, I need a little more capital to help myself set up. Now if you would loan me some of your money, I could get cracking tomorrow.'

'That's impossible, Henry. You know the terms of Richard's will; my allowance was stopped the day we were married, and now I have only the capital left.'

'A little of that would help me on my way, and don't forget that precious boy of yours has well over twenty million in the family trust.'

'You seem to know a lot about William's trust,' said Anne suspiciously.

'Oh, come on, Anne, give me a chance to be your husband. Don't make me feel like a guest in my own home.'

'What's happened to your money, Henry? You always led me to believe that you had enough to start your own business.'

'You've always known I was not in Richard's class financially, and there was a time, Anne, when you claimed it didn't matter. I'd marry you Henry, if you were penniless,' he mocked.

Anne burst into tears, and Henry tried to console her. She spent the rest of the evening in his arms talking the problem over. Anne managed to convince herself she was being unwifely and ungenerous. She had more money than she could possibly need: couldn't she trust a little of it to the to whom she was so willing to entrust the rest of her life?

Acting upon these thoughts, she agreed to let Henry have one hundred thousand dollars to set up his own real estate firm in Boston. Within a month Henry had found a smart new office in a fashionable part of town, appointed staff, and started work. Soon he was mixing with all the city politicians and real estate men of Boston. They talked of the boom in farm land, and they flattered Henry. Anne didn't care very much for them as social company, but Henry was happy and appeared to be successful at his work.

William, now fourteen, was in this third year at St. Paulls, sixth in his class overall and first in mathematics. He had also become a rising figure in the Debating Society. He wrote to his mother once a week, reporting his progress, always addressing his letters to Mrs. Richard Kane, refusing to acknowledge that Henry Osborne even existed. Anne wasn't sure whether she should talk to him about it, and each Monday she would carefully extract William's letter from the box to be certain that Henry never saw the envelope. She continued to hope, that in time William would come around to liking Henry, but it became clear that that hope was unrealistic when, in one particular letter to his mother, he sought her permission to stay with his friend, Matthew Lester, for the summer holidays. The request came as a painful blow to Anne, but she took the easy way out and fell in with William's plans, which Henry also seemed to favour.

William hated Henry Osborne and nursed the hatred passionately, not sure what he could actually do about it. He was relieved that Henry never visited him at school; he could not have tolerated the other boys seeing his mother with that man. It was bad enough that he had to live with him in Boston.

For the first time since his mother's marriage, William was anxious for the holidays to come.

The Lesters' Packard chauffeured William and Matthew noiselessly to the summer camp in Vermont. On the journey, Matthew casually asked William what he intended to do when the time came for him to leave St. Paul's.

'When I leave I will be top of the class, Class President, and have won the Hamilton Memorial Mathematics Scholarship to Harvard,' replied William without hesitation.

'Why is all that so important?' asked Matthew innocently.

'My father did all three.'

'When you've finished beating your father, I will introduce you to mine.'

William smiled.

The two boys had an energetic and enjoyable four weeks in Vermont playing every game from chess to American football. When the month came to an end they travelled to New York to spend the last part of the holiday with the Lester family. They were greeted at the door by a butler who addressed Matthew as sir and a twelve-year-old girl covered in freckles who called him Fatty. It made William laugh because his friend was so thin and it was she who was fat. The little girl smiled and revealed teeth almost totally hidden behind braces.

'You would never believe Susan was my sister, would you?' asked Matthew disdainfully.

'No, I suppose not,' said William, smiling at Susan. 'She's so much better looking than you.'

She adored William from that moment on.

William adored Matthew's father the moment they met; he reminded him in so many ways of his own father and he begged Charles Lester to let him see the great bank of which he was chairman. Charles Lester thought carefully about the request. No child had been allowed to enter the orderly precincts of 17 Broad Street before, not even his own son. He compromised, as bankers often do, and showed the boy around the Wall Street building on a Sunday afternoon.

William was fascinated to see the different offices, the vaults, the foreign exchange dealing room, the board room and the chairman's office.

Compared with Kane and Cabot, the Lester bank was considerably more extensive, and William knew from his own small personal investment account, which provided him with a copy of the annual general report, that they had a far larger capital base than Kane and Cabot. William was silent, pensive, as they were driven home in the car.

'Well, William, did you enjoy your visit to my bank?' asked Charles Lester genially.

'Oh, yes, sir,' replied William. 'I certainly did enjoy it.' William paused for a moment and then added, 'I intend to be chairman of your bank one day, Mr. Lester.'

Charles Lester laughed, and dined out on the story of how young William Kane had reacted to Lester and Co., which in turn made those who heard it laugh too.

Only William had not meant the remark as a joke.

Anne was shocked when Henry came back to her for more money.

'It's as safe as a house,' he assured her. 'Ask Alan Lloyd. As chairman of the bank he can only have your best interests at heart.'

'But two hundred and fifty thousand?' Anne queried.

'A superb opportunity, my dear. Look upon it as an investment that will be worth double that amount within two years: After another more prolonged row, Anne gave in once again and life returned to the same smooth routine. When she checked her investment portfolio with the bank, Anne found she was down to one hundred and forty thousand dollars, but Henry seemed to be seeing all the right people and clinching all the right deals. She considered discussing the whole problem with Alan Lloyd at Kane and Cabot, but in the end dismissed the idea; it would have meant displaying distrust in the husband whom she wished the world to respect, and surely Henry would not have made the suggestion at all had he not been sure that the loan would have met with Alan's approval, Anne also started seeing Doctor MacKenzie again to find out if there was any hope of her having another baby, but he still advised against the idea. With the high blood pressure that had caused her earlier misscarriage, Andrew MacKenzie did not consider thirty-five a good age for Anne to start thinking about being a mother again. Anne raised the idea with the grandmothers, but they agreed wholeheartedly with the views of the good doctor. Neither of them cared for Henry very much, and they cared even less for the thought of an Osborne offspring making claims on the Kane family fortube after they were gone. Anne began to resign herself to the fact that William was going to be her only child. Henry became very angry about what he described as her betrayal, and told Anne that if Richard were still alive, she would have tried again. How different the two men were, she thought, and couldn't account for why she had loved them both. She tried to soothe Henry, praying that his business projects would work out well and keep him fully occupied. He certainly had taken to working very late at the office.

It was on a Monday in October, the weekend after they had celebrated their second wedding anniversary, that Anne started receiving the letters from an unsigned 'friend', informing her that Henry could be seen escorting other women around Boston, and one lady in particular whom the writer didn't care to name. To begin with Anne burned the letters immediately and although they worried her, she never discussed them with Henry, praying that each letter would be the last. She couldn't even summon up the courage to raise the matter with Henry when he asked her for the last hundred and fifty thousand dollars.