unsteadily from his chair. He didn’t need reminding that at six the next morning Natalie would be standing in the hotel lobby, waiting to whisk him off for his first radio interview of the day. He thanked his hostess for a memorable evening, and for his trouble received another bear hug.
‘Now, don’t forget,’ she said, ‘whenever you’re interviewed, think British, act Yiddish. And if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, or a half-decent meal, just like the Windmill Theatre we never close.’
‘Thank you,’ said Harry.
‘And when you next speak to Emma,’ said Alistair, ‘do remember to send our love, and be sure to chastise her for not accompanying you on this trip.’
Harry decided this wasn’t the moment to tell them about Sebastian and what the doctors described as his hyper-active problem.
The three of them somehow squeezed into the lift, and Harry received one last hug from Phyllis, before Parker opened the front door and he was cast back on to the streets of Manhattan.
‘Oh hell,’ he said after he’d walked a short way down Park Avenue. He turned and ran back to Phyllis’s house, up the steps and banged on the front door. The butler didn’t appear quite as quickly this time.
‘I need to see Mrs Stuart urgently,’ said Harry. ‘I hope she hasn’t gone to bed.’
‘Not that I’m aware of, sir,’ said Parker. ‘Please, follow me.’ He led Harry back down the corridor and into the lift where once again he pressed the button for the third floor.
Phyllis was standing by the mantelpiece puffing away on her cheroot when Harry made his second entrance. It was her turn to look surprised.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, ‘but Emma will never forgive me if I return to England without discovering what’s happened to that lawyer who foolishly underestimated her.’
‘Sefton Jelks,’ said Alistair, looking up from his seat by the fire. ‘The damn man finally resigned as senior partner of Jelks, Myers and Abernathy, albeit somewhat reluctantly.’
‘Shortly afterwards, he disappeared off to Minnesota,’ added Phyllis.
‘And he won’t be returning in the near future,’ said Alistair, ‘as he died some months ago.’
‘My son is a typical lawyer,’ said Phyllis, stubbing out her cheroot. ‘He only ever tells you half the story. Jelks’s first heart attack warranted a small mention in the New York Times, and it was only after the third that he received a short and not very flattering paragraph at the bottom of the obituary page.’
‘Which was more than he deserved,’ said Alistair.
‘I agree,’ said Phyllis. ‘Although it gave me considerable pleasure to discover that only four people attended his funeral.’
‘How do you know that?’ asked Alistair.
‘Because I was one of them,’ said Phyllis.
‘You travelled all the way to Minnesota just to attend Sefton Jelks’s funeral?’ said Harry in disbelief.
‘I most certainly did.’
‘But why?’ demanded Alistair.
‘You could never trust Sefton Jelks,’ she explained. ‘I wouldn’t have been truly convinced he was dead until I’d seen his coffin being lowered into the ground, and even then I waited until the gravediggers had filled in the hole.’
‘Please have a seat, Mrs Clifton.’
‘Thank you,’ said Emma as she sat down on a wooden chair and faced the three governors, who were in comfortable seats behind a long table on a raised dais.
‘My name is David Slater,’ said the man in the centre, ‘and I’ll be chairing this afternoon’s meeting. Allow me to introduce my colleagues, Miss Braithwaite and Mr Needham.’
Emma tried to make a rapid assessment of the three invigilators she was facing. The chairman wore a three-piece suit, an old school tie she recognized, and looked as if this wasn’t the only board he chaired. Miss Braithwaite, who sat on his right, was dressed in a pre-war tweed suit and thick woollen stockings. Her hair was done up in a bun, leaving Emma in no doubt that she was a spinster of this parish, and the set of her lips suggested she didn’t smile that often. The gentleman on the chairman’s left was younger than his two colleagues, and reminded Emma that it was not so long ago that Britain had been at war. His bushy moustache suggested the RAF.
‘The board has studied your application with interest, Mrs Clifton,’ began the chairman, ‘and with your permission, we would like to ask you a few questions.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Emma, trying to relax.
‘How long have you been considering adoption, Mrs Clifton?’
‘Ever since I realized I couldn’t have another child,’ replied Emma, without adding any details. The two men smiled sympathetically, but Miss