‘What did Jessica have to say about that?’ asked Giles.
‘She recommended him. Even asked if she might be allowed to attend the sittings.’
‘She’s growing up so fast,’ said Grace.
‘She’s already a young lady,’ said Emma. ‘And I’m considering taking her advice on another matter,’ she added before returning to the agenda. ‘After the completion documents had been signed, a handover ceremony took place in the boardroom. Within twenty-four hours, the name of Barrington Shipping that had hung so proudly above the entrance gate for more than a century was replaced by Cunard.’
‘I know it’s only been a month,’ said Giles, ‘but have Cunard honoured their commitment to our staff, especially the long-serving ones?’
‘To the letter,’ said Emma. ‘No one has been sacked, although quite a number of old-timers have taken advantage of the generous redundancy package Seb negotiated for them, along with a free trip on the Buckingham or the Balmoral, so no complaints on that front. However, we need to discuss our own position and where we go from here. As you both know, we’ve been offered a cash settlement of just over twenty million pounds each, with the alternative of taking Cunard shares, which has several advantages.’
‘How many shares are they offering?’ asked Grace.
‘Seven hundred and ten thousand each, which last year yielded a dividend of ￡246,717. So have either of you made up your minds as to what you’re going to do with the money?’
‘I have,’ said Giles. ‘After seeking Seb’s advice, I’ve decided to take half in cash, which Farthings Kaufman will invest across the board for me, and the other half in Cunard shares. They experienced a slight dip recently, which Seb tells me isn’t unusual following a takeover. However, he assures me that Cunard’s a well-run company with a proven record, and he expects their shares to continue yielding a three to four per cent dividend, while growing in value year on year by about the same amount.’
‘That actually sounds very conservative,’ said Emma, teasing her brother.
‘With a small “c”,’ retorted Giles. ‘I’ve also agreed to finance a research assistant for the Fabian Society.’
‘What a bold gesture,’ said Grace, not hiding her sarcasm.
‘And you’ve done something more radical?’ said Giles, returning the barb.
‘I would hope so. Certainly more fun.’
Emma and Giles stared at their sister, like two students in her class awaiting an answer.
‘I’ve already banked my cheque for the full amount. When I presented it to my bank manager, I thought he was going to faint. The following day, Sebastian came up to visit me in Cambridge, and on his advice I’ve put five million aside to cover any tax liability, and another ten into an investment account with Farthings Kaufman, to be spread across a wide range of well-established companies – his words. I’ve also left a million on deposit with the Midland, which will be more than enough for me to buy a small house near Cambridge, along with a guaranteed annual income of around ￡30,000. A lot more than I ever earned in all my years as a college don.’
‘And the other four million?’
‘I’ve donated a million to the Newnham College restoration fund, a further half million to the Fitzwilliam, and another half million to be divided among a dozen or so charities that I’ve taken an interest in over the years but have never been able to give more than a few hundred pounds in the past.’
‘You make me feel quite guilty,’ said Giles.
‘I would hope so, Giles. But then I joined the Labour Party long before you did.’
‘That still leaves another couple of million to be accounted for,’ said Emma.
‘I know it’s out of character, but I went on a shopping spree with Jessica.’
‘My God, what did she spend it on?’ asked Emma. ‘Diamonds and handbags?’
‘Certainly not,’ said Grace with some feeling. ‘A Monet, a Manet, two Picassos, a Pissarro and a Lucian Freud, who she assures me is the coming man, as well as a Bacon of a Screaming Pope I wouldn’t want to hear deliver a sermon. Plus a Henry Moore maquette entitled King and Queen, which I’ve long admired, along with a Barbara Hepworth and a Leon Underwood. However, I refused to buy an Eric Gill, after I was told that he’d slept with his daughters. It didn’t seem to worry Jessica – you can’t deny real talent, she kept reminding me – but I put my foot down. My final purchase was the artwork for a Beatles record cover by Peter Blake, which I gave to Jessica as a reward for her knowledge and expertise. She knew exactly which galleries to visit, and bargained with the dealers like an East End barrow boy. I wasn’t sure whether to be proud or ashamed of her. And I must confess, I hadn’t realized spending money could be quite so exhausting.’