* * *
“I’ve always considered he was up there with Lincoln and Jefferson.”
A middle-aged man, dressed in an open-necked shirt and sports jacket, looked up but didn’t close his book. The few strands of wispy fair hair that were still in evidence had been carefully combed in an attempt to hide his premature baldness. A walking stick was propped against his chair.
“I apologize,” said Giles. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
“No problem,” said the man in an unmistakable southern drawl, but he still didn’t close his book. “In fact I’m always embarrassed,” he added, “by how little we know of your country’s history, while you seem to be so well informed about ours.”
“That’s because we no longer rule half the world,” said Giles, “and you look as if you are just about to. Mind you, I wonder if a man in a wheelchair could be elected as president in the second half of the twentieth century,” he added, glancing down at the man’s book.
“I doubt it,” said the American with a sigh. “Kennedy beat Nixon because of a TV debate. If you’d heard it on the radio, you would have concluded that Nixon won.”
“Nobody can see you sweat on the radio.”
The American raised an eyebrow. “How come you’re so well informed about American politics?”
“I’m a Member of Parliament. And you?”
“I’m a state representative from Baton Rouge.”
“And as you can’t be a day over forty, I presume you have your sights on Washington.”
Rankin smiled, but revealed nothing. “My turn to ask you a question. What’s my wife’s name?”
Giles knew when he was beaten. “Rosemary,” he said.
“So now we’ve established that this meeting wasn’t a coincidence, Sir Giles, how can I help you?”
“I need to talk to you about last night.”
“I’m not surprised, as I have no doubt you’re among the handful of people on board who knows what really happened in the early hours of this morning.”
Giles looked around. Satisfied no one could overhear them, he said, “The ship was the target of a terrorist attack, but fortunately we managed to—”
The American waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t need to know the details. Just tell me how I can help.”
“Try to convince your fellow countrymen on board that the Home Fleet were really out there. If you can manage that, I know someone who’d be eternally grateful.”
“Your sister?”
Giles nodded, no longer surprised.
“I realized there had to be a serious problem when I saw her earlier, sitting on the upper deck looking as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Not the action of a confident chairman who I have a feeling isn’t all that interested in sunbathing.”
“Mea culpa. But we’re up against—”
“As I said, spare me the details. Like him,” he said, pointing to the photo on the cover of his book, “I’m not interested in tomorrow’s headlines. I’m in politics for the long game, so I’ll do as you ask. However, Sir Giles, that means you owe me one. And you can be sure there’ll come a time when I call in my marker,” he added before returning to A Life of Roosevelt.
* * *
“Have we docked already?” asked Sebastian as he and Samantha joined his parents for breakfast.
“Over an hour ago,” said Emma. “Most of the passengers have already gone ashore.”
“And as it’s your first visit to New York,” said Sam as Seb sat down beside her, “and we only have thirty-six hours before we sail back to England, we haven’t a moment to waste.”
“Why will the ship only be in port for thirty-six hours?” Seb asked.
“You can only make money when you’re on the move, and besides, the docking fees are horrendous.”
“Do you remember your first trip to New York, Mr. Clifton?” asked Samantha.
“I most certainly do,” said Harry with feeling. “I was arrested for a murder I didn’t commit, and spent the next six months in an American prison.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Samantha, recalling the story Seb had once told her. “It was tactless of me to remind you of such a terrible experience.”
“Don’t give it a second thought,” said Harry. “Just make sure Seb isn’t arrested on this visit, because I don’t want that to become another family tradition.”
“Not a chance,” said Samantha. “I’ve already planned visits to the Metropolitan, Central Park, Sardi’s, and the Frick.”
“Jessica’s favorite museum,” said Emma.
“Although she never got to visit it,” said Seb.
“Not a day goes by when I don’t miss her,” said Emma.
“And I only wish I had known her better,” said Sam.
“I took for granted,” said Seb, “that I would die before my younger sister.” A long silence followed, before Seb, clearly wanting to change the subject, asked, “So we won’t be visiting any nightclubs?”
“No time for such frivolity,” said Samantha. “In any case, my father’s got us a couple of tickets for the theatre.”
“What are you going to see?” asked Emma.
“Hello, Dolly!”
“And that’s not frivolous?” said Harry.
“Dad considers Wagner’s Ring Cycle a tad too trendy,” explained Seb before asking, “Where’s Uncle Giles?”
“He was among the first to leave the ship,” said Emma, as a waiter poured her a second cup of coffee. “Our ambassador whisked him off to the United Nations so they could go over his speech before the afternoon session.”
“Perhaps we should try and fit the UN in as well?” suggested Sam.
“I don’t think so,” replied Seb. “The last time I attended one of my uncle’s speeches, he had a heart attack shortly afterward and failed to become the leader of the Labour Party.”
“That’s something you haven’t mentioned before!”
“There’s still a lot you don’t know about our family,” Seb admitted.
“Which reminds me,” said Harry. “I haven’t had the chance to congratulate you on being elected to the board.”
“Thank you, Dad. And now that I’ve read the minutes of the last meeting, I can’t wait”—Seb looked up to see an anxious look on his mother’s face—“to meet my fellow board members, especially the admiral.”
“A one-off,” said Emma, although she was still wondering if the next board meeting would be her last, because if the truth came out she’d be left with no choice but to resign. However, as the memory of that first morning at sea began to fade, she relaxed, and she was feeling a little more confident now that the Buckingham had docked in New York. She glanced out of the window. As far as she could see, there were no press hounds hovering at the bottom of the gangway, barking and baying while flashbulbs popped. Perhaps they were more interested in the result of the presidential election. But she wouldn’t breathe a sigh of relief until the Buckingham had set sail on its return journey to Avonmouth.
“So how do you plan to spend your day, Dad?” asked Seb, breaking into his mother’s reverie.
“I’m having lunch with my publisher, Harold Guinzburg. No doubt I’ll find out what he has planned for my latest book, and what he thought of it.”
“Any hope of an early copy for my mom?” said Samantha. “She’s such a fan.”
“Of course,” said Harry.
“That will be nine dollars ninety-nine cents,” said Seb, holding out his hand. Samantha placed a hot boiled egg in it. “And what about you, Mum? Any plans for painting the hull?”
“Don’t encourage her,” said Harry, not laughing.
“I’ll be the last off the ship and the first back on board. Although I do intend to visit my cousin Alistair and apologize for not attending Great-aunt Phyllis’s funeral.”
“Seb was in hospital at the time,” Harry reminded her.
“So where are we going to start?” demanded Seb as he folded his napkin.
Sam looked out of the window to check the weather. “We’ll take a cab to Central Park and walk the loop before visiting the Met.”
“Then we’d better get going,” said Seb as he rose from the table. “Have a good day, revered parents.”
Emma smiled as the two of them left the dining room, hand in hand. “I wish I’d known they were sleeping together.”
“Emma, it’s the second half of the twentieth century and, let’s face it, we are hardly in a position to—”
“No, I wasn’t moralizing,” said Emma. “It’s just that I could have sold the extra cabin.”