Page 115 of The Other Side of Green

“Hello?”

“Jack?”

“Hi…”

“It’s Elijah, Elijah Fairclough.” The moment he said his name it clicked. That cut-glass accent didn’t belong to anyone else I knew. The Faircloughs ran charitable works the other side of the pond. Unlike the Collins’ they didn’t seemed to be bigoted bastards.

“Elijah? What the problem?” And it would be a problem. The baron had never rung me before. The nearest we’d got to an almost conversation was the odd email from his wife Faith.

Speaking of. “Faith gave me your number; I hope you don’t mind the intrusion.” Elijah was also a prominent lawyer… and I was on the receiving end of his most professional tone by the sound of it.

“Not at all. What’s up?”

“I’m just trying to get my head around all this racism stuff, Jack. The Faircloughs have been closely linked with the Collins Foundation over the years; we were over just a few weeks ago to support the fundraising gala.”

“Elijah,” I spoke quickly while he took a breath. “None of that had anything to do with me, and I’ve got nothing to do with the Collins family now.”

A transatlantic pause stretched between us.

“I mean it. Believe me they are twisted bastards, but I didn’t know about any racist application procedures until Lyra…” I cut myself off. “If you want to complain to anyone about the state of the Fairclough relationship then I would redial and call Jensen Collins instead, although I can’t guarantee he gives a shit.”

Elijah huffed loudly. “Believe me I’ve tried. He’s not answering.”

“I haven’t heard from them either.”

“But you and Miriam were together.”

“A mutual relationship of necessity, believe me.”

“Jack, what a nightmare. This racist thing is drifting over here now too, institutions are twitching.”

This got my back up. “Then they should damn well look at their processes and the way they do things.”

“Back down, Jack. I’m not saying I agree with it. Jesus, believe me, I don’t stand for that crap.”

“So what’s your point?”

“I guess people are just looking. Exactly how many people of race have received scholarships in the arts?”

“That’s good though, people should be looking.”

“Jack. I bumped into Samuel Locke, remember him?”

Mentally I skimmed names. “Nope.”

“He’s a cellist, he auditioned for the Collins scholarship two years ago.”

“And?”

“He didn’t get it. He’s on a second-year placement over here.”

“Elijah, lots of people didn’t get the award, and I had nothing to do with the application process. The board dealt with it all.”

“He said you were sat there, that you listened to him play. He’s blowing a lot of talk that he knew even from the way the panel sat and listened to him that he didn’t stand a chance of being picked.”

“I don’t remember, and I would never have listened like that. I love hearing new students play. Hell, it’s been the only enjoyable thing the last couple of years.”

Elijah huffed a dry laugh. “It doesn’t look good, does it, Jack?”