In appearance they fell rather short of their ideals. William Bartlemas was not tall, probably only about five foot seven, but his angular body gave the illusion of height and his knobbly limbs moved with adolescent awkwardness. His head was crowned with an astonished crest of dyed hair. It had that brittle crinkly texture born of much hairdressing, and was ginger, of a brightness to which nature has always been too shy to aspire. Kevin O’Rourke was tiny, with the pugnacious stance of a jockey and all the aggression of a butterfly. He was balding, and had countered the problem by combing what remained forward in a Royal Shakespeare Company Roman Plays style. The dyed black hair was as tight as skin over his head, except at the front where there was a curly fringe like the edge of a pie-crust. The two always dressed identically-a grotesque pair of Beverley sisters. Today they were in oyster grey velvet. Meeting Bartlemas and O’Rourke was an unforgettable experience, and a fairly exhausting one. They talked non-stop in an elaborate relay race, one picking up the thread as soon as the other paused for breath.
They were delighted to see Charles. He had only met them once briefly at a party, but they remembered him effusively. ‘Charles Paris,’ said Bartlemas, ‘lovely to see you. Haven’t talked since that marvellous Bassanio you did at the Vic’ — that had been fifteen years before-‘lovely performance.’
‘Yes,’ said O’Rourke, ‘you always were such a clever actor…’
‘Sensational,’ said Bartlemas. ‘What are you up to now? My dear, we’ve just been on the most shattering binge in North Africa.’
‘For months and months and months…’
‘In Morocco, of course. O’Rourke disgraced himself continually. So much to drink, my dear, it wasn’t true…’
‘And Bartlemas almost got arrested more than once…’
‘Oh, I didn’t. Not really…’
‘You did, dear, you did. I saw it all. This Moroccan policeman was watching you with a distinctly beady eye. And I don’t think it was your perfection of form that intrigued him…’
‘Well, be that as it may. We go off, we leave the collection and everything, miss all those divine first nights, just simply to have a holiday, to get away from everything…’
‘But everything…’
‘And we come back to hear this shattering news about Marius. Oh, it’s too sad.’
‘Too sad. We were just telling Jacqui here, we are absolutely desolated…’
‘I mean he was so strong. And such a chum too…’
‘I don’t know how we’ll survive without him, I really don’t.’
‘It’s terrifying. If someone like Marius who was so robust…’
‘So full of living…’
‘If he can just pop off like that…’
‘Then what chance is there for the rest of us?’
They both sat back, momentarily exhausted. Charles opened his mouth to speak, but missed the chance. ‘So of course,’ said Bartlemas, ‘as soon as we heard the ghastly news about Marius, we just had to rush round here…’
‘Immediately,’ said O’Rourke. ‘Because of our secret.’
They paused dramatically and gave Jacqui time to say, ‘Charles, they’ve got a new will. Marius made another will.’
Charles looked round at Bartlemas and O’Rourke. They were glowing with importance. ‘Yes,’ said Bartlemas, ‘we witnessed the will and he gave it to us to look after it…’
‘Which is a pity,’ said O’Rourke, ‘because that means we can’t inherit anything…’
‘Not that he had anything we’d really like to inherit. I mean, nothing to do with Edmund and William…’
‘No, but it would have been nice to have a little memento, wouldn’t it, Bartlemas?’
‘Oh yes. Yes, it would. You see, what happened was, we were in the South of France in the summer, when Jacqui and Marius were out there …’
‘At Sainte-Maxime…’
‘Yes. Marius’ villa. Lovely spot…’
‘Oh, lovely…’
‘And suddenly, one night, after Jacqui had gone to bed, Marius suddenly said he was going to make a new will, and there was someone on holiday down there who was a solicitor-’
‘Not his usual one?’ Charles managed to slip in.
‘Oh no, not dear Harold,’ said Bartlemas.
‘No, not Harold,’ echoed O’Rourke. ‘This was a rather sweet young man Marius found in a casino…’
‘And anyway, Marius said this boy was coming over and he was going to draw up a new will, and would we witness it?…’
‘So of course we said yes…’
‘Well, we were so intrigued. It was so exciting…’
‘And we’ve got it with us, and we were just about to show it to Jacqui when you arrived.’
‘Look,’ said Bartlemas, and, with a flourish, produced a sealed envelope from his inside pocket. At this gesture both he and O’Rourke burst out into riotous giggles. ‘I’m sorry,’ said O’Rourke when they had calmed down, ‘it’s just that that was the gesture Edmund Kean is supposed to have used on the “Is this a dagger?” speech in Macbeth at the New Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, in 1823.’
‘Oh,’ said Charles, as Bartlemas and O’Rourke went into new paroxysms of laughter. Again it took a little while for them to calm down and when they had, Bartlemas, with mock solemnity, handed the envelope to Jacqui. ‘Of course,’ he said conspiratorially, ‘we know what’s in it, don’t we, O’Rourke?’
‘Oh yes, Bartlemas.’ They both sat back with smug smiles on their faces and looked at Jacqui, like favourite uncles watching a child unwrap their Christmas present.
Jacqui opened the envelope, pulled out a document and looked at the sheet for some long time. Then she looked up, perplexed. ‘It’s all in funny English.’
‘That’s because it’s a legal document,’ said Charles. ‘They are always incomprehensible. It’s a point of honour among lawyers never to be understood.’
‘You read it, and tell me what it means.’ Jacqui handed the document over.
‘We could tell you what’s in it,’ said Bartlemas.
‘Yes, but we won’t,’ said O’Rourke coyly.
Charles read the will.
I, MARIUS LADISLAS STENIATOWSKI, commonly known as MARIUS STEEN, and hereinafter referred to as such, of 173, Orme Gardens, London, W2 and ‘Rivalon’, Streatley-on-Thames in the County of Berkshire, Theatrical Impresario, HEREBY REVOKE all wills and testamentary documents heretofore made by me AND DECLARE this to be my LAST WILL
1. I APPOINT WILLIAM DOUGLAS D’ABERNON BARTLEMAS and KEVIN CORNELIUS O’ROURKE to be jointly the Executors of this my WILL
2. In the event of my dying before remarriage, I DEVISE and BEQUEATH all of my real and personal estate whatsoever and wheresoever not already disposed of as to my freeholds in fee simple and as to my personal estate absolutely to the issue of my union with JACQUELINE MYRTLE MITCHELL, the property to be held in trust for the said issue, the trust allowing a monthly sum of not less than FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS to the said JACQUELINE MYRTLE MITCHELL to pay for the upbringing of the said issue, this arrangement to cease on his or her attaining the age of twenty-one years, whereupon a quarter of the remaining estate-whether in freehold property, stocks, shares or chattels shall be granted in perpetuity to the said JACQUELINE MYRTLE MITCHELL, and the remainder to be granted to the said issue. In the event of the said JACQUELINE MYRTLE MITCHELL dying before the child attains twenty-one years, all of the estate shall devolve upon the said child and be held for him or her in trust, as my executors and their appointees shall devise.