Richard.’
‘For how long?’ Develin shouted. ‘Goddamn it, Liam, what did he use?’
‘His Luger,’ Liam muttered.
‘Christ almighty!’ Develin hissed, his fists drawn tight with rage. ‘Coward,’ he shouted down at the shattered remains of his father. ‘Murdering, adulterous, fucking monster how dare you do this to me!’ He backed away, visibly shaken. ‘Who else knows?’
Liam hesitated. ‘Scott Bryan, Father O’Shea, Ian McIver. It was a closed coffin.’
‘Yes, well it fucking well would be, wouldn’t it?’ Develin muttered through clenched teeth.
He grabbed the spade from Liam and began to fill in the hole, starting at the head, covering the face with load after load of earth. Carl stood back appalled.
Charles Develin committed suicide the evening before he was due to be extradited to Amsterdam to stand trial for war crimes. In a very real sense he did his son and the Develin family name a favour. And there were perhaps other reasons why Charles Develin was eager to embrace the afterlife. Margarette’s fall down the stairs was not accidental; she had been pushed by Charles Develin. Why? - Because she was having an affair with one of the grooms while at the same time sleeping with him. It just isn’t done because somewhere in between the two men she had become pregnant.
*****
Late June, 1955
Richard Develin rounded on his father. ‘As far as Margarette is concerned, the child she is carrying is not mine. That being the case, I will refuse to acknowledge it when the time comes so be prepared.’ He paused. ‘You might however satisfy me in one thing. Tell me as honestly as you know how, is Margarette’s child yours?’
His father looked away, his shame obvious.
‘As I thought. Then you, sir can acknowledge your own goddamn bastard. However, I think it’s only fair to point out that one of the grooms - Neville I think his name is - has also been enjoying my wife’s dubious affections for some time.
‘Now, if you would be so kind as to get out of my office, I have work to do.’
*****
Richard Develin left early the following morning for South America but not before he was informed that the body of one of the grooms had been found dead in a loose box in the stables. He had been kicked to death sometime during the night by Charles Develin’s stallion. No one heard a thing.
If Margarette Develin had half the intelligence she pretended she had she would have left Cavendish Hall immediately but then again, no one bothered to tell her that her lover was dead, until it was too late that is.
*****
Sarah ordered concrete to be poured on top of Charles Develin grave and when it was firm enough, a Celtic cross one foot long and made of bronze was embedded into it. There was no mention of his name anywhere. She knelt down at the foot of his grave. ‘Stay there you bastard,’ she whispered. ‘If you ever come near my children I swear to God I will personally dig you up and burn what’s left of you.’
5
Jack stood by the gate leading into the fenced enclosure; an enclosure which contained the graves of Yusuf Sarquazi, his mother and his uncle. The mounded earth was planted by Sarah with three different varieties of ivy, one for each grave in the hope that in time the plants would meet and mingle, uniting in death a brother and a sister, an uncle and a nephew, a mother and her son. The plants it seemed were eager to please her because they had managed in a very short space of time to do precisely what she wished them to do. The shimmering, multi-coloured and multi-patterned leaves were far more beautiful than the zellij tilework which Jack had seen in various mausoleums and cemeteries throughout Morocco.
Yusuf Sarquazi’s sudden death was tragic yes, but it was also a tragedy. Jack’s English teacher in high school was something of a drama buff so the definition of a true classical tragedy was drill into Jack and his classmates on more than one occasion. It was also one of the questions on his final exam. Define tragedy in the classical sense.
A play/film in which the protagonist, usually a man of importance and outstanding personal qualities, falls to disaster through the combination of a personal failing and circumstances with which he cannot deal.
Jack had it down pat and even managed an A grade on the paper.
He stared at Sarquazi’s grave. ‘Why did you insist on having the martingale removed? Why didn’t you trust that Ian McIver knew what was best? If the horse had been wearing it then …’
‘It is the will of Allah,’ Mirah had said, trying to comfort him, ‘and we are not to seek to know the why of it. Your Christian prayer, it too says Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Is this not true Jack?’
‘Yes, it’s true.’
Ian had told Carl Emery that Sarquazi seemed to be showing off in front of Sarah. Ordering Ian to remove the martingale; treating him like a servant or a slave even. And, when Sarah tried to change his mind he rounded on her and cut her short with a warning glance. Ian admitted that he was openly embarrassed for her because it was obvious that this wasn’t the first time Sarquazi had treated her like that.
‘Do not interfere again in that which I do.’
*****
‘Jack Mulphy,’ Sarah said, smiling despite the fact that saying goodbye to Richard and Yusuf, even for a little while, had distressed her greatly, ‘this is a pleasant surprise.’
Jack whipped his baseball cap off his head and returned her smile. She was as beautiful as ever, tall and slender with a wealth of hair the colour of fire. And her eyes: twin emeralds. She was elegantly dressed in an ivory-coloured suit. Around her neck a magnificent set of real pearls: a gift from Richard in a long-ago time.
‘Hello ma’am, nice to see you again. I guess I would have stayed with the ship but … I found his Mercedes in the forward hold and, quite frankly ma’am, I couldn’t resist.’ The smile faded. ‘Abran and I, we both tried everything, hoping that the Council would allow you more time but … they wanted the lord Sarquazi’s children returned immediately and there was nothing more we could do. The gathering of the Benghazi families has been proclaimed and so it must be. I’m sorry.’
‘I understand. I can’t pretend that I am not extremely anxious about this move Mr. Mulphy but equally I can see advantages for all my children in a wider world. Hopefully we can negotiate an arrangement whereby they can enjoy both cultures.’
‘Yes, I’m sure something can be arranged.’
Behind Sarah stood a strongly built man with curly black hair and a Mediterranean complexion. Jack guessed his age to be around twenty-eight and he also guessed that he was ex-SAS. You can always tell. He was immaculately dressed in a dark grey suit, white shirt and ultra-conservative tie and he was eyeing Jack, his jeans, his psychedelic tee-shirt, tan-coloured leather jacket, expensive running shoes and Yankee’s baseball cap; the whole ensemble with a great deal of suspicion.
Recognizing this, Jack made a mental note to spiff up a bit, especially around her.
Introductions were in order. ‘Mr. David Rossi, this is Mr. Jack Mulphy. Mr. Mulphy is Comptroller of Sarquazi Enterprises International. He is also a personal friend.’ Rossi was instantly impressed. ‘Mr. Rossi is one of two bodyguards Mr. Mulphy. You will shortly meet Mr. Craig Heywood who is also dedicated to the protection of not only my person but my children as well.’ Jack and David shook hands.
‘Well, we