Page 57 of Next in Line

‘How much was the bill?’ she asked.

‘There was no bill, ma’am.’

‘Then how am I going to pay them?’

‘You already have, ma’am.’

‘You’re not making any sense, Ross.’

‘When Frank Sinatra visited Naples last year, he dropped into a pizza parlour along with his bodyguards and ordered a Margarita they’ve now called Sinatra. I’m told there’s been a queue outside the shop ever since. I predict that by the time the shop you’ve just visited closes tonight, there won’t be a bag on the shelves, and the owner won’t need to advertise for the rest of his life.’

‘We should drop into shops like that more often.’

‘No, thank you, ma’am.’

‘The least I can do is send him a note to thank him. Did you find out his name, by any chance?’

‘I did. Aloysius.’

‘You’re kidding me.’

‘No, ma’am. Apparently his friends call him Al.’

‘And the young woman behind the counter?’ asked Diana, making a note.

‘His daughter, Susan.’

‘How did you find that out?’

‘I served undercover for twelve years, ma’am.’

‘How lucky I am to have you serving me now, Ross,’ she said coyly as she placed her diary back into her handbag.

Ross was no different from any other man. Despite trying to remain cool, he melted.

As they turned off the main road, Ross checked once again to make sure no one was following them. No one was. They had only travelled about another couple of miles when they entered the picturesque hamlet of Chalfordbury, and moments later they approached two ornate iron gates heralding the entrance to a large estate. The gates began to swing slowly open when the car was still a hundred yards away. A guard saluted as they passed by.

A winding drive led through a dense forest and past a large lake, before a grand Lutyens mansion loomed up in front of them that wouldn’t have failed to impress even a Princess. They finally circled a rose garden in full bloom before coming to a halt in front of the house.

Jamil Chalabi was standing on the top step waiting to greet them. As they were over an hour late, Ross wondered how long he’d been standing there. Chalabi walked down to greet his royal guest as she stepped out of the car.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Diana said as he kissed her on both cheeks.

‘Not a problem,’ he replied, leading her up the steps and into the house. ‘I’m just delighted you made it.’

As Ross entered the house, he was surprised to find it was anything but glitzy and vulgar. Beth and William would certainly have admired an art collection that would have graced a gallery. Was it possible he’d misjudged the man?

An under-butler peeled Ross off from the main party and guided him on a long circuitous route to the west wing, before dumping him in a room that was cramped and cold and could only have been described as staff quarters. Ross accepted that that was exactly how Chalabi thought of him.

Once he’d unpacked, he carried out an inspection of the grounds. He began by walking around the perimeter of the property, which took him almost forty minutes. The ten-footflint stone wall that surrounded the entire estate would have put off the most determined professional burglar, let alone a trainee.

Ross introduced himself to the guard on the front gate, whom he thought he recognized. He was assured that during the weekend there would never be fewer than three guards on duty twenty-four/seven; one on the gate, with two more patrolling the grounds. After confirming there was no other entrance to the estate, Ross made his way back to the house, stopping only to admire the vast oval lake which was stocked with asagi carp. He’d once read that asagi were so highly prized, they cost as much as a thousand pounds each. Ross tried not to think how many of them it would take to fill a lake that size; another way of Chalabi subtly reminding his guests how wealthy he was.

When he returned to the house, there was no sign of HRH or her host, although so many staff were rushing about, they might have been preparing for a banquet, rather than what he had been led to believe would be a cosytête-à-têtesupper.

Ross entered the dining room to find a long oak table had been set for twenty-four, with the finest Wedgwood china, an array of Baccarat wine glasses and a silver cutlery service that took up almost every available space. A tall vase of white orchids dominated the centre of the table.

He checked the place cards and recognized a few well-known names, and some others that were vaguely familiar, but mostly they were unknown to him. He suspected they all had one thing in common; they were there to be impressed by the presence at Chalabi’s table of HRH, so they could be made use of at a later date. Not for the first time, he reflected ruefully that Diana was so sophisticated at some levels, whilebeing so naïve at others. However, he accepted that there was little he could do about it.

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