第 43 页

'No, I don't want you,'said William.

'Charming,'said Jenny.

'I'm looking for the man who's been with you, Matthew - I mean Martin.'

'Martin, he was too drunk even to get it up with the help of a crane, darling, but he paid his ten dollars, he always does. A real gentleman!

'Where is he now?' asked William impatiently.

'I don't know, he gave it up as a bad job and started walking home.'

William ran into the street. The cold air hit him, not that he needed to be awakened. He drove his car slowly away from the club, following the route towards Matthew's flat, looking carefully at each person he passed. Some hurried on when they saw his watchful eyes; others tried to engage him in conversation. When he was passing an all-night caf6, he caught sight of Matthew through the steamy window, weaving his way through the tables with a cup in his hand. William parked the car, went in and sat down beside him. Matthew had slumped on to the table next to a cup of untouched spilt coffee. He was so drunk that he didn't even recognise William.

'Matthew, it's me,' said William, looking at the crumpled man. The tears started to run down his cheeks.

Matthew looked up and spilled some more of his coffee. 'You're crying, old fellow. Lost your girl, have you?'

'No, my closest friend,' said William.

'Ah, they're much harder to come by.'

'I know,' said William, 'I have a good friend,' said Matthew, slurring his words. 'He's always stood by me until we quarrelled for the first time today. My fault though. You see I've let him down rather badly.'

'No you haven't,'said William.

'How can you know?' said Matthew angrily. 'You're not even fit to know him.'

'Let's go home, Matthew!

'My name is Martin,' said Matthew.

'I'm sorry, Martin, let's go home.'

'No, I want to stay here. There's this girl who may come by later. I think I'm ready for her now.'

'I have some fine old malt whisky at my house,' said William. 'Why don't you join me?'

'Any women at your place?,'

'Yes, plenty of them.'

'You're on, I'll come.'

William hoisted Matthew up and put his arm under his shoulder, guiding him slowly through the caf6 towards the door. It was the first time he'd ever realised how heavy Matthew was. As they passed two policemen sitting at the comer of the counter, William heard one say to the other, 'Goddam fairie's.'

He helped Matthew into the car and drove him back to Beacon Hill. Kate was waiting up for thern.

'You should have gone to bed, darling!'

'I couldn't sleep,'she replied.

'I'm afraid he's nearly incoherent!'

'Is this the girl you promised me?' said Matthew.

'Yes, she'll take care of you,' said William, and he and Kate helped him up to the guest room and put him on the bed. Kate started to undress him.

'You must undress as well, darling,' he said. 'I've already paid my ten dollars!'

'When you're in bed,' said Kate lightly.

'Why are you looking so sad, beautiful lady?' said Matthew.

'Because I love you,' said Kate, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

'Don't cry,' said Matthew, 'there's nothing to cry about. I'll manage it this time, you'll see.'

When they had undressed Matthew, William covered him with a sheet and a blanket. Kate turned the light out.

'You promised you'd come to bed with me,' said Matthew, drowsily.

She closed the door quietly.

William slept on a chair outside Matthew's room for fear he might wake up in the night and try to leave. Kate woke him in the morning before taking some breakfast into Matthew.

'What am I doing here, Kate?' were Matthew's first words.

'You came back with us after Andrew MacKenzie's party last night,' replied Kate rather feebly.

'No, I didn't. I went to the In and Out with that awful girl, Patricia something or other, who refused to come in with me. God, I feel lousy. Can I have a tomato juice? I don't want to be unsociable, but the last thing I need is breakfast!

'Of course, Matthew.'

William came in. Matthew looked up at him- They stared at each other in silence.

'You know, don't you?' said Matthew finally.

'Yes,' said William, 'and I've been a fool and I hope you'll forgive me.'

'Don't cry, William. I haven't seen you do that since you were twelve, when Covington was beating you up and I had to drag him off you. Remember? I wonder what Covington is up to now? Probably running a brothel in Tijuana; it's about all he was fit for. Mind you, if Covington is running it, the place will be darrmed efficient, so lead me to it. Don't cry, William. Grown men don't cry. Nothing can be done. I've seen all the specialists from New York to Los Angeles to Zurich, and there is nothing they can do. Do you mind if I skip the office this morning? I still feel bloody awful. Wake me if I stay too long or if I'm any more trouble, and I'll find my own way home.'

'This is your home,' said William.

Matthew's face changed. 'Will you tell my father, William? I can't face him. Youre an only son, too; you understand the problem!

'Yes, I will,' said William. 'I'll go down to New York tomorrow and tell him if you'll promise to stay with Kate and me. I won't stop you from getting drunk if that's what you wish to do, or from having as many women as you want, but you must stay here.'

'Best offer I've had in weeks, William. Now I think I'll sleep some more. I get so tired nowadays!

William watched Matthew fall into a deep sleep and removed the half empty glass from his hand. A tomato stain was forming on the sheets.

'Don't die,' he said quietly. 'Please don't die, Matthew. Have you forgotten that you and I are going to run the biggest bank in America?'

William went to New York the following morning to see Charles Lester. The great man aged visibly at William's news and seemed to shrink into his seat.

'Thank you for coming, William, and telling me personally. I knew something must be wrong when Matthew stopped his monthly visits to see me. I'll come up every weekend. He will want to be with you and Kate, and I'll try not to make it too obvious how hard I took the news. God knows what he's done to deserve this. Since my wife died, I built everything for Matthew, and now there is no one to leave it to. Susan has no interest in the bank.'

'Come to Boston when ever you want to, sir. You'll always be most welcome!

'Thank you, Willian; for everything youre doing for Matthew!

The old man looked up at him. 'I wish your father were alive to see how worthy his son is of the name Kane. If only I could change places with Matthew, and let him live...

'I ought to be getting back to him soon, sir.'

"Yes, of course. Tell him I took the news stoically. Don't tell him anything different.'

'Yes, sir.'

William travelled back to Boston that night to find that Matthew had stayed at home with Kate and started reading America's latest best seller, Gone With The Wind, as he sat out on the veranda. He looked up as William came through the French windows.

'How did the old man take it?'

'He cried,' said William

'The chairman of Lester's bank cried?' said Matthew. 'Never let the shareholders know that.'

Matthew stopped drinking and worked as hard as he could until the last few days. William was amazed by his determination and had continually to make him slow down. He was always on top of his work and would tease William by checking his mail at the end of each day. In the evenings before a large dinner, Matthew would play tennis with William or row against him on the river. 'I'll know I'm dead when I can't beat you,' he mocked. Matthew never- entered the hospital, preferring to stay on at the Red House. The weeks went so slowly and yet so quickly for William, waking each morning wondering if Matthew would still be alive.

Matthew died on a Thursday, forty pages still to read of Gone With The Wind.

The funeral was held in New York, and William and Kate stayed with Charles Lester. In six months, he had become an old man, and as he stood by the graves of his wife and only son, he told William that he no longer saw any purpose in this life. William said nothing; no words of his could help the gnevmg father. William and Kate returned to Boston the next day. The Red House seemed strangely empty without Matthew. The past few months had been at once the happiest and unhappiest period in William's life. Death had brought him a closeness, both to Matthew and to Kate, that normal life would never have allowed.

When William retutned to the bank after Matthew's death, he found it hard to get back into any sort of normal routine. He would get up and start to head towards Matthew's office for advice or a laugh, or merely to be assured of his existence, but he was no longer there. It was weeks before William could prevent himself from doing this.

Tony Simmons was very understanding, but it didn't help. William lost all interest in banking, even in Kane and Cabot itself, as he went through months of remorse over Matthew's death. He had always taken it for granted that he and Matthew would grow old together and share a cormnon destiny. No one commented that William's work was not up to its usual high standard.

Even Kate grew worried by the hours William would spend alone.

Then one morning she awoke to find him sitting on the edge of the bed staring down at her. She blinked up at him. 'Is something wrong, darling?'

'No, I'm just looking at my greatest asset and making sure I don't take it for granted!

22

By the end of 1932, with America still in the grip of a depression, Abel was becoming a little apprehensive about the future of the Baron Group.

Two thousand banks had been closed during the past two years, and more were shutting their doors every week. Nine million people were still unemployed, which had as its only virtue the assurance that Abel could maintain a highly professional staff in his hotels 'Still, the Baron Group lost seventy-two thousand dollars during a year in which he had predicted that they would break even, and he began to wonder whether his backer's purse and patience would hold out long enough to allow him the chance to tum things around.

Abel had begun to take an active interest in American politics during Anton Cermak's successful campaign to become mayor of Chicago. Cermak talked Abel into joining the Democratic Party, which had launched a virulent campaign against Prohibition; Abel threw himself wholeheartcdly behind Cermak, as Prohibition had proved very damaging to the hotel trade. The fact that Cermak was himself an immigrant, from Czechoslovakia, created an immediate bond between the two men, and Abel was delighted to be chosen as a delegate representative at the Democratic Convention held in Chicago that year where Cermak brought a packed audience to its feet with the words: 'It's true I didn't come over on the Mayflower, but I came as soon as I could!

At the convention Cermak introduced Abel to Franklin D. Roosevelt, who made a lasting impression on him. F.D.R. went on to win the Presidential election easily and he swept Democratic candidates into office all over the country. One of the newly elected aldermen at Chicago City Hall was Henry Osborne. When Anton Cermak was killed a few weeks later in Miami by an assassin's bullet intended for F.D.R., Abel decided to contribute a considerable amount of time and money to the cause of the Polish Democrats in Chicago.

During 1933 the group lost only twenty-three thousand dollars, and one of the hotels, the St. Louis Baron, actually showed a profit. When President Roosevelt had delivered his first fireside chat on 12 March, exhorting his countrymen 'to once again believe in America', Abel's confidence soared and he decided to re-open the two hotels that he had closed the previous year.

Zaphia grew querulous at his long absences in Charleston and Mobile, while he took the two hotels out of mothballs. She had never wanted Abel to be more than the deputy manager of the Stevens, a level at which she felt she could keep pace. The pace was quickening as every month passed, and she became conscious of falling behind Abel's ambitions and feared he was beginning to lose interest in her.

She was also becoming anxious about her childlessness, and started to see doctors who reassured her that there was nothing to prevent her from becoming pregnant. One offered the suggestion that Abel should also be examined, but Zaphia demurred, knowing he would regard the very mention of the subject as a slur on his manhood. Finally, after the subject had become so charged that it was difficult for them to discuss it at all, Zapbia missed her period. She waited hopefully for another month before saying anything to Abel or even seeing the doctor again. He confirmed that she was at last pregnant. To Abel's delight, Zaphia gave birth to a daughter, on New Year's Day, 1934. They named her Florentyna, after Abel's sister. Abel was besotted the moment he set eyes on the child and Zaphia knew from that moment she could no longer be the first love of his life. George and Zaphia's cousin were the child's Kums, and Abel gave a traditional ten-course Polish dinner on the evening of the christening.

Many gifts were presented to the child, including a beautiful antique ring from Abel's backer. He returned the gift in kind when the Baron Group made a profit of sixtythree thousand dollars at the end of the year. Only the Mobile Baron was still losing money.

After Florentyna's birth Abel found he was spending much more of his time in Chicago which prompted him to decide that the time had come to build a Baron there. Hotels in the city were booming in the aftermath of the World's Fair. Abel intended to make his new hotel the flagship of the group in memory of Davis Leroy. The company still owned the site of the old Richmond Hotel on Michigan Avenue, and although Abel had had several offers for the land, he had always held out, hoping that one day he would be in a strong enough financial position to rebuild the hotel. The project required capital and Abel decided to use the seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars he had eventually received from Great Western Casualty for the old Chicago Richmond to start construction. As soon as his plans were formulated, he told Curtis Fenton of his intention, with the sole reservation that if David Maxton did not want a rival to the Stevens, Abel was willing to drop the whole project; he felt it was the least he could do in the circumstances. A few days later, Curtis Fenton advised him that his backer was delighted by the idea of 'The Chicago Baron'. It took Abel twelve months to build the new Baron with a large helping hand from Alderman Henry Osborne, who hurried through the permits required from City Hall in the shortest possible time. The building was opened in 1936 by the mayor of the city~ Edward J. Kelly, who, after the death of Anton Cermak, had become the prime organiser of the Democratic machine. In memory of Davis Leroy, the hotel had no twelfth floor - a tradition Abel continued in every new Baron he built.