The Buddha of Brewer Street by Michael Dobbs

Author:Michael Dobbs [Dobbs, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780007390441
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 1998-09-09T04:00:00+00:00

It was his sense of guilt that drove him to do it.

Like most politicians, he hated his postbag. And like most men with overdrafts he opened it with as much delay as possible. Not all envelopes contained invitations to free dinners. Many envelopes contained misery, some of the most unexpected kind.

One in particular caught his attention. It was addressed to Sam, which was unusual. She didn’t normally receive letters at Gerrard Street. Why hadn’t it been sent to her at school?

The envelope in question was one of carefully constructed anonymity. Small and obviously inexpensive, brown, with nothing but a hand-written address with an incomplete postcode and a business postmark. No logo or embellishment, no clue as to its origin. A mystery. Goodfellowe didn’t like mysteries, but that was no excuse for what he did.

He was worried sick about Sam, even more so since his miserable failure the previous weekend to offer her fatherly advice and comfort. His imagination had spent too much time wandering over all the possibilities of how she was, and what she was. And what she’d been up to. There were so many question marks over his daughter’s life, and here was another. He needed to know what was in this envelope, his need driven by his own sense of guilt.

He could scarcely believe what he was doing. In the kitchen. Over the stove. Steaming it open with the kettle, just as he’d seen it done in those black-and-white films of his childhood with Maigret and Fabian of the Yard and clanging police bells on old Wolseley cars. As he watched, the flap of the envelope curled in distaste. And out dropped a cheque. Signed by Sam. And stamped ‘Refer To Drawer’.

The cheque was made out to the Unplanned Pregnancy Advice Clinic.

Of course the Clinic and its staff were scrupulous in maintaining the confidentiality of its patients – or, rather, clients. But its finance department was less sensitive, there had been a glitch in the system. Bounced cheques were returned.

His hand trembled, and not simply from the fact that he was scalding his fingers. More confusion and fear. Fear for Sam. Fear for himself. He’d already lost a son and a wife. How much more could he take?

He knew he was not well equipped to deal with this dilemma. His sense of judgement was distorted, his emotions still too bruised from his own life to be able to cope adequately with hers. Which was why he had relied so heavily on Elizabeth’s advice. Advice which so far he had embellished to catastrophic effect. Sam hadn’t spoken to him in more than a week. The rollercoaster of their relationship had come off the rails once more. And Elizabeth, just when he needed her, was away tasting wines in France. With fellow restaurateurs. With other men. Drinking. Laughing. Letting them fall in love with her. Suddenly he was having trouble breathing.

He knew he must not make the wrong decision, yet he had no clear idea what ‘the wrong decision’ was.

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