Best Kept Secret (The Clifton Chronicles 3)

The Member for Bristol Docklands stuffed the card in a pocket as he leapt to his feet the moment the foreign secretary had dealt with the previous question, in the hope of catching the speaker's eye.

'Sir Giles Barrington,' called the speaker.

'Can the foreign secretary tell the House how the president's announcement will affect British industry, in particular those of our citizens who work in the defence field?'

Mr Selwyn Lloyd once again rose to his feet and, clutching the dispatch box, said, 'I can tell the honourable and gallant gentleman that I am in constant touch with our ambassador in Washington, and he assures me . . .'

By the time Mr Lloyd had answered the final question some forty minutes later, Giles had quite forgotten about his visitor's card.

It was about an hour later, when he was sitting in the tearoom with some colleagues, that he pulled out his wallet and the card fell to the floor. He picked it up and glanced at the name, but couldn't place a Mrs Tibbet. He turned it over and read the message, shot out of his seat, bolted out of the tearoom and didn't stop running until he had reached Central Lobby, praying that she hadn't given up on him. When he stopped at the duty clerk's desk, he asked him to page a Mrs Tibbet.

'I'm sorry, Sir Giles, but the lady left a few moments ago. Said she had to get back to work.'

'Damn,' said Giles, as he turned the card over and checked the address.

32

'PRAED STREET, PADDINGTON,' said Giles as he climbed into a taxi outside the members' entrance. 'And I'm already late,' he added, 'so step on it.'

'Wouldn't want me to break the speed limit, would you, guv,' said the cabbie as he drove out of the main gates and nosed his way into Parliament Square.

Yes I would, Giles wanted to say, but he held his tongue. Once he learned Mrs Tibbet had left the Commons, he had rung his brother-in-law to tell him about the stranger's cryptic message. Harry's first reaction was to want to jump on the next train to London, but Giles advised him against it, in case it turned out to be a false alarm. In any case, Giles told him, it was just possible that Sebastian was on his way back to Bristol.

Giles sat on the edge of his seat, willing every traffic light to turn green, and urging the driver to change lanes whenever he saw a chance to grab a few yards. He couldn't stop thinking about what Harry and Emma must have been through during the past two days. Had they told Jessica? If so, she'd be sitting on the top step at the Manor House waiting anxiously for Sebastian to return.

As the taxi pulled up outside No. 37, the cabbie couldn't help wondering why a Member of Parliament could possibly be visiting a guest house in Paddington. But it was none of his business, especially as the gentleman gave him such a large tip.

Giles leapt out of the taxi, ran to the door and hammered several times on the knocker. A few moments later, the door was opened by a young woman who said, 'I'm sorry, sir, but the last room has been taken.'

'I'm not looking for a room,' Giles told her. 'I was hoping to see  - ' he glanced once again at the visitor's card  -  'a Mrs Tibbet.'

'Who shall I say wants to see her?'

'Sir Giles Barrington.'

'If you'll just wait there, sir, I'll let her know,' she said before closing the door.

Giles stood on the pavement, wondering if Sebastian had been just a hundred yards from Paddington Station the whole time. He only had to wait a couple of minutes before the door was flung open again.

'I'm so sorry, Sir Giles,' said Mrs Tibbet, sounding flustered. 'Janice had no idea who you are. Please come through to the parlour.'

Once Giles had settled into a comfortable high-backed chair, Mrs Tibbet offered him a cup of tea.

'No, thank you,' he said. 'I'm anxious to find out if you have any news about Seb. His parents are worried out of their minds.'

'Of course they are, poor things,' said Mrs Tibbet. 'I did tell him several times that he should get in touch with his mother, but - '

'But?' interrupted Giles.

'It's a long story, Sir Giles, but I'll be as quick as I can.'

Ten minutes later, Mrs Tibbet was telling him that the last time she'd seen Sebastian was when he left in a taxi to return to Eaton Square, and she hadn't heard from him since.

'So as far as you know, he's staying with his friend Bruno Martinez at forty-four Eaton Square?'

'That's right, Sir Giles. But I did - '

'I am greatly in your debt,' said Giles, rising from his seat and taking out his wallet.

'You owe me nothing, sir,' said Mrs Tibbet, waving a hand. 'Everything I did was for Sebastian, not for you. But if I may be allowed to give you one piece of advice . . .'

'Yes, of course,' said Giles, sitting back down.

'Sebastian is anxious that his parents will be angry with him because he's thrown away the chance of going to Cambridge, and - '

'But he hasn't lost his place at Cambridge,' interrupted Giles.

'That's the best news I've heard all week. You'd better find him quickly and let him know that, because he won't want to go home while he thinks his parents are still angry with him.'

'My next stop will be number forty-four Eaton Square,' said Giles as he rose a second time.

'Before you go,' said Mrs Tibbet, still not budging, 'you should know that he took the blame for his friend, which is why Bruno Martinez didn't suffer the same punishment. So perhaps he deserves a pat on the back rather than a telling off.'

'You're wasted, Mrs Tibbet  -  you should have joined the diplomatic corps.'

'And you're an old flatterer, Sir Giles, like most members of parliament. Not that I've ever come across one before,' she admitted. 'But don't let me hold you up any longer.'

'Thank you again. Once I've caught up with Sebastian and sorted things out,' said Giles as he rose a third time, 'perhaps you'll come back to the Commons and join us both for tea?'

'That's most considerate of you, Sir Giles. But I can't afford to take two days off in one week.'

'Then it will have to be next week,' said Giles as she opened the front door and they walked out on to the pavement. 'I'll send a car to pick you up.'

'That's kind of you,' said Mrs Tibbet, 'but - '

'No buts. Sebastian got lucky, very lucky, when he stopped at number thirty-seven.'

When the phone rang Don Pedro walked across the room, but he didn't pick it up until he'd checked his study door was closed.

'Your international call from Buenos Aires is on the line, sir.'

He heard a click, before a voice said, 'It's Diego.'

'Listen carefully. Everything has fallen into place, including our Trojan horse.'

'Does that mean Sotheby's have agreed to - ?'

'The sculpture will be included in their sale at the end of this month.'

'So all we need now is a courier.'

'I think I have the ideal person. A school friend of Bruno's who needs a job and speaks fluent Spanish. Better still, his uncle is a Member of Parliament and one of his grandfathers was a lord, so he's what the English consider blue blood, which can only smooth the way.'