After the service, Harry and Emma stood by the door of the church, shaking hands with a long line of well-wishers. Harry had still not fully recovered, but it quickly became clear that the congregation universally agreed with Giles’s sentiments.
Family and friends returned to the Manor House and raised glasses as they swapped stories about a remarkable woman, who touched the lives of everyone with whom she came into contact. Finally, when the last guest had departed, Harry, Emma and Sebastian were left alone.
“Let’s drink to my mother’s memory,” said Harry. “I think it’s time to open the ’57 Merlot that Harold Guinzburg said should be saved for a special occasion. But before we do,” he added as he uncorked the bottle, “I have to tell you that my mother gave me a letter a few weeks ago that she said was not to be opened until after her funeral.” He removed an envelope from his inside pocket with a flourish, tore it open and pulled out several handwritten pages in Maisie’s bold, unmistakable script.
Emma sat down, feeling a little apprehensive, while Seb perched on the edge of his seat as if he were back at school before Harry began to read.
Dearest Harry,
These are no more than a few rambling thoughts from an old woman who should know better, so you are most welcome to dismiss them as such.
Let me begin with my dear grandson, young Sebastian. I still think of him as young, despite all that he’s achieved in such a short period of time. Achievements that have been earned by ability combined with prodigious hard work, and I am sure he will realize his aim of becoming a millionaire by the age of forty. Commendable, no doubt, but Sebastian, by the time you reach my age you will have learned that acquiring great wealth is unimportant if you have no one to share it with. Samantha was among the kindest, most generous people I have ever known, and you were foolish to part with such a gem. If that was not enough, it has been a great sadness to me that I never met my great-granddaughter, Jessica, because if she was anything like your sister, I know I would have adored her.
“How could she possibly have known about Jessica?” said Seb.
“I told her,” admitted Harry.
I would also like to have known Priya, who by all accounts was a very special young woman, who loved you so dearly she was willing to sacrifice her life for you. And what a compliment to your parents that the color of her skin never crossed your mind, because you were in love with her, so her race and religion were irrelevant, which would not have been possible for someone of my generation. You lost Priya because of her parents’ prejudice. Make sure you don’t lose Sam and Jessica because you are too proud to make the first move.
Sebastian bowed his head. He knew she was right.
And now to you, dear Emma. Frankly, people should never listen to their mothers-in-law. Behind every successful man, they say, is a surprised mother-in-law. Harry owes so much of his success to your loving support, as both a wife and mother. But, and you knew there would be a “but,” you have, in my opinion, by no means achieved your potential. Proust said, we all end up doing the thing we’re second best at. There is no doubt that you have been an outstanding chairman of Barrington’s Shipping, as your directors, shareholders and the City of London readily acknowledge. But that should not be enough for someone with your remarkable talents. No, I believe the time has come for you to use some of your vision and energy for the public good. There are so many causes that could flourish under your leadership. Simply giving money to charity is the easy way out. Giving time is much more precious. So make it your aim that, when you die, people will not remember you only as the chairman of Barrington’s.
“Why didn’t she tell me that when she was alive?” said Emma. “Perhaps she thought you were too busy to listen, my darling.” “I can’t wait to hear what she has to say to you, Dad.”
And finally, my beloved son, Harry. For a mother to say that she is proud of her son is only human. However, I could never have dreamed of the happiness your success, both as a novelist and as a campaigner for those who don’t know freedom, would bring me.
Although I believe, as I know you do, that your courageous fight for Anatoly Babakov is your finest achievement, I know you will not be satisfied until he is a free man and can join his wife in America.
Have you ever told Emma you turned down a knighthood, an honor you would not consider accepting while Babakov was still in prison? I am proud of you for that, even though I would have enjoyed hearing my son addressed as Sir Harry.
“You never told me,” said Emma.