Jeffrey Archer - As the Crow Flies

"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."

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 ted 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 the 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 lo be satisfied with his season ticket to the West Ham Football Club?"