In the course of my research for this book I took the fortunate decision to contact the Clermont Club to ask for their help. I told them that I was writing a novel, and that I wanted to set some of the scenes in the Club, and that I would very much like the chance to see the place for myself. I assured them that this was not another book about Lord Lucan, the Club’s most notorious member, but that he would play a peripheral role in the story. I didn’t have much confidence that they would be very keen on the idea. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I received a friendly, welcoming reply from Alison Sullivan, the Clermont’s general manager, inviting my wife Chris and myself to visit the Club and spend some time. Alison also offered to have members of her staff answer any questions I might have. Needless to say, I took full advantage.
Chris and I were made very welcome. Melodie Triffaux, the Clermont’s marketing executive, gave us a guided tour of William Kent’s magnificent town house at 44 Berkeley Square. As befits an important listed building, Kent’s design, including the famous staircase, has been carefully and lovingly preserved, but the Club has done far more than legally required to ensure its continuity and the Club’s presence there is almost inconspicuous. The house is one of the architectural glories of London and, regardless of the book, it was well worth the trip just to see it.
The casino manager, Marcello Benelli, was able to help me to reconstruct what the Club had looked like in 1970 and 1971, as the John Aspinall era was drawing to a close, but still three years before Lucan’s disappearance. He had some photographs from the period, and was able to tell me how the use of various rooms in the Club had changed since then – surprisingly little, as it turned out, but these are valuable details for an author. Marcello also took me through the mechanics of chemin de fer, a game which is no longer played commercially at the Club, but which had been a staple in its day. I had learned the basics from online sources, but there are many details that Marcello, with his long experience of casinos, brought to life for me.
As a parting gift, they gave me a copy of John Pearson’s The Gamblers (Arrow Books, London, 2007). I had already read Pearson’s book on Kindle, but it was nice, and very useful, to have it in hard copy. Pearson provides a penetrating insight into the group that frequented the Clermont at the time – not only Lucan, but also Dominick Elwes, James Goldsmith, Ian and Susie Maxwell-Scott, and others – and into the world of high-stakes gaming generally. It was a valuable resource.
As ever, my thanks to Ion and Claire at No Exit Press, my agent Annette Crossland, and my editor, Irene Goodacre. Thanks also to Chris, for whom the visit to 44 Berkeley Square, though enjoyable, must have been poor compensation for having a husband who spends so much time at his computer.