The Collected Short Stories - Jeffrey Archer [260]
The highlight of the evening, however, came after the speeches when the king made two investitures. The first was the award of the Order of the Peacock (Second Class) to the foreign secretary. “The highest award a commoner can receive,” the king explained to the assembled audience, “as the Order of the Peacock (First Class) is reserved for royalty and heads of state.”
The king then announced a second investiture. The Order of the Peacock (Third Class) was to be awarded to Gerald Haskins, CBE, for his work on the drainage system of Teske. Gerald was surprised and delighted as he was conducted from his place on the top table to join the king, who leaned forward to put a large gold chain encrusted with gems of various colors and sizes over his visitor’s head. Gerald took two respectful paces backward and bowed low, as the foreign secretary looked up from his seat and smiled encouragingly at him.
Gerald was the last foreign guest to leave the banquet that night. Angela, who had left on her own over two hours before, had already fallen asleep by the time he returned to their hotel room. He placed the chain on the bed, undressed, put on his pajamas, checked his wife was still asleep, and then placed the chain back over his head to rest on his shoulders.
Gerald stood and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror for several minutes. He could not wait to return home.
The moment Gerald got back to Hull he dictated a letter to the Foreign Office. He requested permission to be allowed to wear his new award on those occasions when it stipulated on the bottom right-hand corner of invitation cards that decorations and medals should be worn. The Foreign Office duly referred the matter to the palace, where the queen, a distant cousin of King Alfons IV, agreed to the request.
The next official occasion at which Gerald was given the opportunity to sport the Order of the Peacock was the mayor-making ceremony held in the chamber of Hull’s City Hall, which was to be preceded by dinner at the Guildhall.
Gerald returned especially from Lagos for the occasion, and even before changing into his dinner jacket couldn’t resist a glance at the Order of the Peacock (Third Class). He opened the box that held his prize possession and stared down in disbelief: the gold had become tarnished, and one of the stones looked as if it was coming loose. Mrs. Haskins stopped dressing in order to steal a glance at the order. “It’s not gold,” she declared with a simplicity that would have stopped the IMF in its tracks.
Gerald offered no comment and quickly fixed the loose stone back in place with Krazy Glue but he had to admit to himself that the craftsmanship didn’t bear careful scrutiny. Neither of them mentioned the subject again on their journey to Hull’s City Hall.
Some of the guests during the mayor’s dinner that night at the Guildhall enquired after the history of the Order of the Peacock (Third Class), and although it gave Gerald some considerable satisfaction to explain how he had come by the distinction and indeed the queen’s permission to wear it on official occasions, he felt one or two of his colleagues had been less than awed by the tarnished peacock. Gerald also considered it was somewhat unfortunate that they had ended up on the same table as Walter Ramsbottom, now the deputy mayor.
“I suppose it would be hard to put a true value on it,” said Walter, staring disdainfully at the chain.
“It certainly would,” said Gerald firmly.
“I didn’t mean a monetary value,” said the jeweler with a smirk. “That would be only too easy to ascertain. I meant a sentimental value, of course.”
“Of course,” said Gerald. “And are you expecting to be the mayor next year?” he asked, trying to change the subject.
“It is the tradition,” said Walter, “that the deputy succeeds the mayor if he doesn’t serve for a second year. And be assured, Gerald, that I shall see to it that you