When Emma returned from the breakers’ yard late on Monday evening, she knew she had to tell Harry what Frank Gibson and his team had found when they prised open the Maple Leaf’s double bottom.
‘It turned out be exactly as we’ve always feared,’ she said as she sat down opposite Harry. ‘Even worse.’
‘Worse?’ repeated Harry.
She bowed her head. ‘Arthur had scratched a message on the side of the double bottom.’ She paused, but couldn’t get the words out.
‘You don’t have to tell me,’ said Harry, taking her hand.
‘I do. Otherwise we’ll just go on living a lie for the rest of our lives.’ It was some time before she managed, ‘He’d written, “Stan was right. Sir Hugo knew I was trapped down here” . . . So, my father murdered your father,’ she said between sobs.
It was some time before Harry said, ‘That’s something we can never be sure about, and perhaps, my darling, it’s better we don’t—’
‘I no longer want to know. But the poor man should at least have a Christian burial. Your mother would have expected nothing less.’
‘I’ll have a quiet word with the vicar.’
‘Who else should be there?’
‘Just the two of us,’ said Harry without hesitation. ‘Nothing can be gained from putting Seb and Jessie through the pain we’ve had to suffer for so many years. And let’s pray that’s an end to the matter.’
Emma looked across at her husband. ‘You clearly haven’t heard about the Cambridge scientists who are working on something called DNA.’
WE’RE ALMOST THERE, SAYS
BARRINGTON’S SPOKESMAN
‘Damn,’ said Clive when he had read the Financial Times headline. ‘How can I have been so stupid?’
‘Stop beating yourself up,’ said Seb. ‘The truth is, we are almost there.’
‘We both know that,’ said Clive. ‘But we didn’t need Cunard to find out.’
‘They already knew,’ said Seb, ‘long before they saw that headline. Frankly, we’d be lucky to milk more than another percentage point out of this deal. I suspect they’ve already reached their limit.’
‘Nevertheless,’ said Clive, ‘your mother won’t exactly be pleased, and who could blame her?’
‘She’ll assume it’s all part of the endgame, and I’m not going to be the one to disabuse her.’
‘Thanks for the support, Seb. I appreciate it.’
‘It’s no more than you gave me when Sloane appointed himself chairman of Farthings and then sacked me the next day. Have you forgotten that Kaufman’s was the only bank that offered me a job? And in any case, my mother might even be pleased by the headline.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m still not convinced she wants this takeover to succeed.’
‘Is this going to harm the takeover?’ asked Emma after she’d read the article.
‘We may have to sacrifice a point, possibly two,’ said Seb. ‘But don’t forget Cedric Hardcastle’s sage words on the subject of takeovers. If you end up with more than you expected, while the other side feel they’ve got the better of the deal, everyone leaves the table happy.’
‘How do you think Giles and Grace will react?’
‘Uncle Giles is spending most of his spare time running up and down the country visiting marginal seats in the hope that Labour can still win the next election. Because if Margaret Thatcher becomes our next prime minister, he may never hold office again.’
‘And Grace?’
‘I don’t think she’s ever read the FT in her life, and she certainly wouldn’t know what to do if you handed her a cheque for twenty million pounds, remembering her present salary is about twenty thousand a year.’
‘She’ll need your help and advice, Seb.’
‘Be assured, Mama, Farthings Kaufman will invest Dr Barrington’s capital most judiciously, well aware that she’ll be retiring in a few years and hoping for a regular income and somewhere to live.’
‘She can come and live with us in Somerset,’ said Emma. ‘Maisie’s old cottage would suit her perfectly.’
‘She’s far too proud for that,’ said Seb, ‘and you know it, Mama. In fact, she’s already told me she’s looking for somewhere in Cambridge so she can be near her friends.’
‘But once the takeover goes through, she’ll have enough to buy a castle.’
‘My bet,’ said Seb, ‘is that she’ll still end up in a small terraced house not far from her old college.’
‘You’re getting dangerously close to becoming wise,’ said Emma, wondering if she should share her latest problem with her son.
4
‘SIX MONTHS,’ said Harry. ‘The damn man should have been hanged, drawn and quartered.’
‘What are you going on about?’ asked Emma, calmly, as she poured herself a second cup of tea.
‘The thug who punched an A and E nurse, and then assaulted a doctor, has only been sentenced to six months.’
‘Dr Hands,’ said Emma. ‘While I agree with your sentiments, there were extenuating circumstances.’
‘Like what?’ demanded Harry.
‘The nurse concerned wasn’t willing to give evidence when the case came to court.’