“No, we never have.”
Baverstock removed his glasses and placed them on the desk. “Please take your time, dear lady, and just let me know when I have your permission to contact your son and acquaint him with his good fortune.”
“Thank you,” said Becky quietly, sensing the inadequacy of her words.
“Finally,” said Mr. Baverstock, “I must also let you know that Sir Raymond became a great admirer of your husband and his work, indeed of your partnership together. So much so that he left a recommendation with this office that, were Trumper’s ever to go public, which he anticipated they would, we were to invest a sizable stake in the new company. He was convinced that such an enterprise could only flourish and therefore prove to be a first-class investment.”
“So that’s why Hambros invested ten percent when we went public,” said Becky. “We always wondered.”
“Precisely,” Mr. Baverstock added with a smile, almost of satisfaction. “It was on my specific instructions that Hambros applied for the shares on behalf of the Trust, so that there could never be any reason for your husband to be apprehensive about such a large outside shareholder.
“The amount was in fact considerably less than the estate received from dividends during that year. However, more important, we were aware from the offer documents that it was Sir Charles’ intention to retain fifty-one percent of the company, and we therefore felt it might be some relief for him to know that he would have a further ten percent under his indirect control should any unforeseen problem arise at some time in the future. I can only hope that you feel we have acted in your best interests, as it was always Sir Raymond’s wish that you should be told the full facts at a time that I considered appropriate, the only stipulation as I have already explained was that such information was not to be revealed to your son before his thirtieth birthday.”
“You couldn’t have been more considerate, Mr. Baverstock,” said Becky. “I know Charlie will want to thank you personally.”
“That is most kind of you, Lady Trumper. May I also add that this meeting has been a genuine delight for me. Like Sir Raymond, I have had considerable pleasure over the years in following the careers of all three of you, and I am delighted to be playing a small part in the company’s future.”
Having completed his task, Mr. Baverstock rose from his side of the desk and accompanied Becky silently to the front door of the building. Becky began to wonder if the solicitor spoke only when he had a brief.
“I shall wait to hear from you, dear lady, as to when I may be permitted to contact your son.”
CHAPTER
38
The weekend after Becky’s visit to Mr. Baverstock she and Charlie drove to Cambridge to see Daniel. Charlie had insisted that they could procrastinate no longer and had telephoned Daniel that evening to warn him that they were coming up to Trinity as there was something of importance they needed to tell him. On hearing this piece of news Daniel had replied, “Good, because I’ve also got something rather important to tell you.”
On the journey to Cambridge, Becky and Charlie rehearsed what they would say and how they were going to say it, but still came to the conclusion that however carefully they tried to explain what had happened in the past, they could not anticipate how Daniel would react.
“I wonder if he’ll ever forgive us?” said Becky. “You know, we should have told him years ago.”
“But we didn’t.”
“And now we’re only letting him know at a time when it could be to our financial benefit.”
“And ultimately to his. After all, he’ll eventually inherit ten percent of the company, not to mention the entire Hardcastle estate. We’ll just have to see how he takes the news and react accordingly.” Charlie accelerated when he came to a stretch of dual carriageway the other side of Rickmansworth. For some time neither of them spoke until Charlie suggested, “Let’s go through the order once again. You’ll start by telling him how you first met Guy—”
“Perhaps he already knows,” said Becky.
“Then he surely would have asked—”
“Not necessarily. He’s always been so secretive in the past, especially when dealing with us.”
The rehearsal continued until they had reached the outskirts of the city.
Charlie drove slowly down the Backs past Queens College, avoiding a bunch of undergraduates who had strayed onto the road, and finally right into Trinity Lane. He brought his car to a halt in New Court and he and Becky walked across to entrance C and on up the worn stone staircase until they reached the door with “Dr. Daniel Trumper” painted above it. It always amused Becky that she hadn’t even discovered that her son had been awarded his Ph.D. until someone addressed him as Dr. Trumper in her presence.
Charlie gripped his wife’s hand. “Don’t worry, Becky,” he said. “Everything will be all right, you’ll see.” He gave her fingers a squeeze before knocking firmly on Daniel’s door.
“Come on in,” shouted a voice that could only have been Daniel’s. The next moment he pulled open the heavy oak door to greet them. He gave his mother a huge hug before ushering them both through to his untidy little study where tea was already laid out on a table in the center of the room.
Charlie and Becky sat down in two of the large and battered leather chairs the college had provided. They had probably been owned by the past six inhabitants of the room, and brought back memories for Becky of the chair that she had once removed from Charlie’s home in Whitechapel Road and sold for a shilling.
Daniel poured them both a cup of tea and began to toast a crumpet over the open fire. Nobody spoke for some time and Becky wondered where her son had come across such a modern cashmere sweater.
“Good journey down?” Daniel asked eventually.
“Not bad,” said Charlie.
“And how’s the new car running in?”
“Fine.”
“And Trumper’s?”
“Could be worse.”
“Quite a little conversationalist, aren’t you, Dad? You ought to apply for the recently vacated chair of professor of English.”
“Sorry, Daniel,” said his mother. “It’s just that he’s got rather a lot on his mind at the moment, not least the subject we have to discuss with you.”
“Couldn’t be better timing,” said Daniel, turning the crumpet over.
“Why’s that?” asked Charlie.
“Because, as I warned you, there’s something rather important I have to discuss with you. So—who goes first?”
“Let’s hear your news,” said Becky quickly.
“No, I think it might be wise if we went first,” Charlie intervened.
“Suits me.” Daniel dropped a toasted crumpet onto his mother’s plate. “Butter, jam and honey,” he added, pointing to three small dishes that rested on the table in front of her.
“Thank you, darling,” said Becky.
“Get on with it then, Dad. The tension’s becoming too much for me to bear.” He turned a second crumpet over.
“Well, my news concerns a matter we should have told you about many years ago and indeed would have done so only—”
“Crumpet, Dad?”
“Thank you,” said Charlie, ignoring the steaming offering that Daniel dropped onto his plate, “—circumstances and a chain of events somehow stopped us from getting round to it.”
Daniel placed a third crumpet on the end of his long toasting fork. “Eat up, Mum,” he said. “Otherwise yours will only get cold. In any case, there’ll be another one on its way soon.”
“I’m not all that hungry,” admitted Becky.
“Well, as I was saying,” said Charlie. “A problem has arisen concerning a large inheritance that you will eventually—”
There was a knock on the door. Becky looked desperately towards Charlie, hoping that the interruption was nothing more than a message that could be dealt with quickly. What they didn’t need at that moment was an undergraduate with an interminable problem. Daniel rose from th
e hearth and went over to the door.
“Come in, darling,” they heard him say and Charlie stood up as Daniel’s guest entered the room.
“How nice to see you, Cathy,” Charlie said. “I had no idea you were going to be in Cambridge today.”
“Isn’t that typical of Daniel,” said Cathy. “I wanted to warn you both, but he wouldn’t hear of it.” She smiled nervously at Becky before sitting down in one of the vacant chairs.
Becky glanced across at the two of them seated next to each other—something worried her.
“Pour yourself some tea, darling,” said Daniel. “You’re just in time for the next crumpet and you couldn’t have arrived at a more exciting moment. Dad was just about to let me into the secret of how much I might expect to be left in his will. Am I to inherit the Trumper empire or shall I have to be satisfied with his season ticket to the West Ham Football Club?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Cathy, half rising from her seat.
“No, no,” said Charlie, waving her back down. “Don’t be silly, it wasn’t that important. Our news can wait until later.”
“They’re very hot, so watch it,” said Daniel, dropping a crumpet onto Cathy’s plate. “Well, if my inheritance is of such monumental insignificance then I shall have to impart my own little piece of news first. Roll of drums, curtain up, opening line”—Daniel raised the toasting fork as if it were a baton—“Cathy and I are engaged to be married.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Becky, immediately springing up from her chair to hug Cathy in delight. “What wonderful news.”
“How long has this been going on?” asked Charlie. “I must have been blind.”
“Nearly two years,” admitted Daniel. “And to be fair, Dad, even you couldn’t expect to have a telescope capable of focusing on Cambridge every weekend. I’ll let you into another little secret: Cathy wouldn’t allow me to tell you until Mum had invited her to join the management committee.”
“As someone who’s always been a dealer, my boy,” said Charlie, beaming, “I can tell you you’ve got the better of this bargain.” Daniel grinned. “In fact, I think Cathy’s probably been shortchanged. But when did all this happen?”
“We met at your housewarming party. You won’t remember, Sir Charles, but we bumped into each other on the stairs,” Cathy said, nervously fingering the little cross that hung around her neck.
“Of course I remember and please call me Charlie. Everyone else does.”
“So have you decided on a date?” asked Becky.
“We were planning to be married during the Easter vacation,” said Daniel. “If that suits you?”
“Next week suits me,” said Charlie. “I couldn’t be happier. And where do you plan to hold the wedding?”
“The College Chapel,” said Daniel without hesitation. “You see, both Cathy’s parents are dead so we thought down here in Cambridge might be best, in the circumstances.”
“And where will you live?” asked Becky.
“Ah, that all depends,” said Daniel mysteriously.
“On what?” asked Charlie.
“I’ve applied for a chair in mathematics at King’s, London—and I’m reliably informed that their choice will be announced to the world in two weeks’ time.”
“Are you at all hopeful?” asked Becky.
“Well, let me put it this way,” said Daniel. “The provost has asked me to have dinner with him next Thursday at his lodgings, and as I’ve never set eyes on the gentleman in question before—” He broke off as the telephone interrupted his flow.
“Now, whoever can that be?” he asked rhetorically. “The monsters don’t usually bother me on a Sunday.” He picked up the receiver and listened for a moment.
“Yes, she is,” he said after a few more seconds. “May I say who’s calling? I’ll let her know.” He turned to face his mother. “Mr. Baverstock for you, Mum.”
Becky pushed herself out of her chair and took the telephone from Daniel as Charlie looked on apprehensively.
“Is that you, Lady Trumper?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Baverstock here. I’ll be brief. But first, have you informed Daniel about the details of Sir Raymond’s will?”
“No. My husband was just about to do so.”
“Then please don’t mention the subject to him until I have had the chance to see you again.”
“But—why not?” Becky realized it was now going to be necessary to conduct a one-sided conversation.
“It isn’t something I feel comfortable about discussing over the telephone, Lady Trumper. When are you expecting to be back in town?”
“Later this evening.”
“I think we should meet as soon as possible.”
“Do you consider it’s that important?” said Becky, still mystified.
“I do. Would seven o’clock this evening suit you?”
“Yes, I feel sure we’ll be back by then.”
“In that case I’ll come round to Eaton Square at seven. And please, whatever you do, don’t mention anything about Sir Raymond’s will to Daniel. I apologize about the mystery but I fear I have been left with little choice. Goodbye, dear lady.”
“Goodbye,” said Becky and put the receiver down.
“Problem?” asked Charlie, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t know.” Becky looked her husband straight in the eye. “It’s just that Mr. Baverstock wants to see us about those papers he briefed me on last week.” Charlie grimaced. “And he doesn’t wish us to discuss the details with anyone else for the time being.”
“Now that does sound mysterious,” said Daniel, turning to Cathy. “Mr. Baverstock, my darling, is on the board of the barrow, a man who would consider phoning his wife during office hours a breach of contract.”
“That sounds like the right qualifications for a place on the board of a public company.”
“You’ve met him once before, as a matter of fact,” said Daniel. “He and his wife were also at Mum’s housewarming party, but I fear he isn’t exactly memorable.”
“Who painted that picture?” said Charlie suddenly, staring at a watercolor of the Cam that hung above Daniel’s desk.
Becky only hoped the change of subject hadn’t been too obvious.
On the journey back to London Becky was torn between delight at the thought of having Cathy as a daughter-in-law and anxiety over what Mr. Baverstock could possibly want to see them about.
When Charlie asked yet again for details, Becky tried to repeat the conversation she’d conducted with Baverstock word for word, but it left neither of them any the wiser.
“We’ll know soon enough,” said Charlie as they left the A10 to go through Whitechapel and on into the City. It always gave Charlie a thrill whenever he passed all the different barrows displaying their colorful wares and heard the cries of the merchants shouting their outrageous claims.
“I don’t offer you these for…”
Suddenly Charlie brought the car to a halt, turned off the engine and stared out of the window.
“Why are you stopping?” asked Becky. “We haven’t any time to spare.”
Charlie pointed at the Whitechapel Boys’ Club: it looked even more run-down and dilapidated than usual.
“You’ve seen the club a thousand times before, Charlie. And you know we mustn’t be late for Mr. Baverstock.”
He took out his diary and began unscrewing the top of his fountain pen.
“What are you up to?”
“When will you learn, Becky, to look more carefully?” Charlie was busy scribbling down the number of the estate agent on the “For Sale” sign.
“You surely don’t want to open a second Trumper’s in Whitechapel?”
“No, but I do want to find out why they’re closing my old boys’ club,” said Charlie. He returned the pen to his inside pocket and pressed the button to start up the engine.
The Trumpers arrived back at 17 Eaton Square with just over half an hour to spare before Mr. Baversto
ck was due to visit them; and Mr. Baverstock, they both were painfully aware, was never late.
Becky immediately set about dusting the tables and plumping up the cushions in the drawing room.
“Everything looks fine to me,” said Charlie. “Do stop fussing. In any case, that’s what we employ a housekeeper for.”
“But it’s a Sunday night,” Becky reminded him. She continued to check under objects she hadn’t touched for months and finally put a match to the well-laid fire.
At exactly seven the front doorbell rang and Charlie left to greet his guest.
“Good evening, Sir Charles,” said Mr. Baverstock, removing his hat.
Ah, yes, thought Charlie, there is someone I know who never calls me Charlie. He took Mr. Baverstock’s coat, scarf and hat and hung them on the hallstand.
“I am sorry to bother you on a Sunday evening,” Mr. Baverstock said as he followed his host into the drawing room carrying his Gladstone bag. “But I hope when you learn my news, you will feel I came to the right decision.”
“I’m sure we will. We were naturally both intrigued by your call. But first let me offer you a drink. Whisky?”
“No, thank you,” said Mr. Baverstock. “But a dry sherry would be most acceptable.”
Becky poured Mr. Baverstock a Tio Pepe and her husband a whisky before she joined the two men round the fire and waited for the lawyer to explain his uncharacteristic interruption.
“This isn’t easy for me, Sir Charles.”
Charlie nodded. “I understand. Just take your time.”
“Can I first confirm with you that you did not reveal to your son any details of Sir Raymond’s will?”
“We did not. We were saved that embarrassment first by the announcement of Daniel’s engagement to be married and then by your fortuitous telephone call.”
“Oh, that is good news,” said Mr. Baverstock. “To the charming Miss Ross, no doubt. Please do pass on my congratulations.”
“You knew all along?” said Becky.
“Oh, yes,” said Mr. Baverstock. “It was obvious for everyone to see, wasn’t it?”
“Everyone except us,” said Charlie.
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