Jeffrey Archer - As the Crow Flies

She didn't notice Veronica's scowl of disapproval on more than one occasion.

It was the last Friday in September 1947 that Gibson tapped quietly on the door of the living room, entered and announced, "Captain Daniel Trentham."

When Mrs. Trentham first saw the young man dressed in the uniform of a captain in the Royal Fusiliers, her legs almost gave way. He marched in and came to a halt in the middle of the carpet. The meeting that had taken place in that room more than twenty-five years before immediately sprang to her mind. Somehow she managed to get herself across the room before collapsing onto the sofa.

Gripping its arm to make sure she didn't pass out completely Mrs. Trentham stared up at her grandson. She was horrified at his resemblance to Guy, and felt quite sick by the memories he evoked. Memories which for so many years she had managed to keep at the back of her mind.

Once she had composed herself Mrs. Trentham's first reaction was to order Gibson to throw him out, but she decided to wait for a moment as she was anxious to discover what the young man could possibly want. As Daniel delivered his carefully rehearsed sentences she began to wonder if possibly the meeting might be turned to her advantage.

Her grandson started by telling her how he had been to Australia that summer, not America as Harris had led her to believe. He went on to show he knew of her ownership of the flats, her attempt to block the planning permission for the store and the wording on the grave in Ashurst. He continued his rendering with an assurance that his parents were unaware he had come to visit her that afternoon.

Mrs. Trentham concluded that he must have discovered the full circumstances of her son's death in Melbourne. Otherwise why would he have stressed that, if the information he possessed were to fall into the hands of the popular press, it could only result in—to put it mildly—embarrassment for all concerned?

Mrs. Trentham allowed Daniel to continue his speech while at the same time thinking furiously. It was during his prognosis on the future development of Chelsea Terrace that she wondered just how much the young man standing before her actually did know. She decided there was only one way of finding out, and that would require her to take one big risk.

When Daniel had finally come out with his specific demand, Mrs. Trentham simply replied, "I have a condition of my own."

"What condition?"

"That you relinquish any claim you might have to the Hardcastle estate."

Daniel looked uncertain for the first time. It was obviously not what he had expected. Mrs. Trentham suddenly felt confident that he had no knowledge of the will: after all, her father had briefed Baverstock not to allow the young man to be privy to its contents until his thirtieth birthday; and Mr. Baverstock was not a man to break his word.

"I can't believe you ever intended to leave me anything in the first place," was Daniel's first response.

She didn't reply and waited until Daniel at last nodded his agreement.

"In writing," she added.

"Then I shall also require our arrangement in writing," he demanded brusquely.

Mrs. Trentham felt certain that he was no longer relying on the safety of a prepared script and was now simply reacting to events as they took place.

She rose, walked slowly over to her desk and unlocked a drawer. Daniel remained in the middle of the room, swaying slightly from foot to foot.

Having located two sheets of paper and retrieving the lawyer's draft wording that she had left locked in the bottom drawer, Mrs. Trentham wrote out two identical agreements which included Daniel's demand for her withdrawal of both her application to build the flats and her objections to his father's application for planning permission to build Trumper Towers. She also included in the agreements her lawyer's exact words for Daniel's waiver of his rights to his great-grandfather's estate.

She handed over the first draft for her grandson to study. At any moment she expected him to work out what he must be sacrificing by signing such a document.

Daniel finished reading the first copy of the agreement, then checked to see that both drafts were identical in every detail. Though he said nothing, Mrs. Trentham still felt he must surely fathom out why she needed the agreement so badly. In fact, had he demanded that she also sell the land in Chelsea Terrace to his father at a commercial rate she would happily have agreed, just to have Daniel's signature on the bottom of the agreement.

The moment Daniel had signed both documents Mrs. Trentham rang the bell and called for the butler to witness the two signatures. Once this task had been completed she said curtly, "Show the gentleman out, Gibson." As the uniformed figure left the room she found herself wondering just how long it would be before the boy realized what a poor bargain he had struck.

When on the following day Mrs. Trentham's solicitors studied the one-page document they were stunned by the simplicity of the transaction. However, she offered no explanation as to how she had managed to achieve such a coup. A slight bow of the head from the senior partner acknowledged that the agreement was watertight.

Every man has his price, and once Martin Simpson realized his source of income had dried up, a further fifty pounds in cash convinced him that he should withdraw his objection to Trumper Towers from proceeding as planned.

The following day Mrs. Trentham turned her attention to other matters: the understanding of offer documents.

In Mrs. Trentham's opinion Veronica became pregnant far too quickly. In May 1948 her daughter-in-law produced a son, Giles Raymond, only nine months and three weeks after she and Nigel had been married. At least the child had not been born prematurely. As it was, Mrs. Trentham had already observed the servants counting the months on their fingers on more than one occasion.

It was after Veronica had returned from hospital with the child that Mrs. Trentham had the first difference of opinion with her daughter-in-law.

Veronica and Nigel had wheeled Giles round to Chester Square for the proud grandmother to admire. After Mrs. Trentham had given the infant a cursory glance Gibson pushed the pram out and the tea trolley in.

"Of course you'll want the boy to be put down for Asgarth and Harrow without delay," said Mrs. Trentham, even before Nigel or Veronica had been given a chance to select a sandwich. "After all, one wants to be certain that his place is guaranteed."

"Actually, Nigel and I have already decided how our son will be educated," said Veronica, "and neither of those schools have entered our deliberations."

Mrs. Trentham placed her cup back on its saucer and stared at Veronica as if she had announced the death of the King. "I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you correctly, Veronica."

"We are going to send Giles to a local primary school in Chelsea and then on to Bryanston."

"Bryanston? And where is that, may one ask?"

"In Dorset. It's my father's old school," Veronica added before removing a salmon sandwich from the plate in front of her.

Nigel looked anxiously across at his mother as he touched his blue and silver striped tie.

"That may well be the case," said Mrs. Trentham. "However, I feel sure we still need to give a little more consideration as to how young Raymond"—she stressed the name—"should start off in life."

"No, that will be unnecessary," said Veronica. "Nigel and I have already given quite sufficient thought as to how Giles should be educated. In fact, we registered him for Bryanston last week. After all, one wants to be certain that his place is guaranteed."

Veronica leaned forward and helped herself to another salmon sandwich.

Three chimes echoed from the little carriage clock that stood on the mantelpiece on the far side of the room.