Jeffrey Archer - The Sins of the Father

Maisie leaned across the table and took his hand.

‘I pressed them to let me stay for another six months… so I could be with you, but they turned my request down.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Maisie, ‘but-’

‘Please don’t say anything, Maisie, because I’m finding this difficult enough already. Though God knows I’ve given it enough thought.’ This was followed by another long silence. ‘I realize we’ve only known each other for a short time, but my feelings haven’t changed since the first day I set eyes on you.’ Maisie smiled. ‘And I wondered,’ he continued, ‘hoped, prayed, that you might consider coming back to America with me… as my wife.’

Maisie was speechless. ‘I’m so very flattered,’ she eventually managed, but couldn’t think of anything else to say.

‘Of course, I realize you’ll need time to think it over. I’m sorry that the ravages of war don’t allow for the niceties of a long courtship.’

‘When do you go home?’

‘At the end of the month. So if you did say yes, we could get married at the base and fly back together as man and wife.’ He leant forward and took her hand. ‘I’ve never felt more certain about anything in my whole life,’ he said as the waiter reappeared by their side.

‘So which one of you is the chopped liver?’

Maisie didn’t sleep that night, and when she came down to breakfast the following morning, she told her mother that Mike had proposed to her.

‘Jump at it,’ was Mrs Tancock’s immediate response. ‘You’ll never get a better chance to begin a new life. And, let’s face it,’ she added, glancing sadly at the photograph of Harry on the mantelpiece, ‘there’s no longer any reason for you to stay here.’

Maisie was about to express her one reservation when Stan burst into the room. She got up from the table. ‘I’d better get a move on if I’m not going to be late for work.’

‘Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that ’undred quid you owe me!’ he shouted as she left the room.

Maisie was sitting on the edge of her seat in the front row when Mr Holcombe entered the classroom at seven that evening.

Her hand shot up several times during the next hour, like a tiresome schoolgirl who knows all the answers and wants teacher to notice her. If he did, he didn’t let on.

‘Could you start coming in on Tuesdays and Thursdays in future, Maisie?’ Mr Holcombe asked as they strolled across to the pub with the rest of the class.

‘Why?’ asked Maisie. ‘Aren’t I good enough?’

‘Am I not good enough,’ corrected the schoolmaster without thinking. ‘On the contrary,’ he added, ‘I’ve decided to put you into the intermediate class, before this lot,’ he said, indicating her fellow classmates with the sweep of an arm, ‘become overwhelmed.’

‘But won’t I be out of my depth, Arnold?’

‘I do hope so, but no doubt you’ll have caught up by the end of the month, by which time I’ll have to put you into the advanced class.’

Maisie didn’t respond, as she knew it wouldn’t be too long before she would have to tell Arnold that she’d made other plans for the end of the month.

Once again, they ended up sitting alone together at the bar, and once again he accompanied her back to Still House Lane, only this time, when Maisie took the front-door key out of her bag, she thought he looked as if he might be trying to summon up the courage to kiss her. Surely not. Hadn’t she got enough problems to cope with?

‘I was just wondering,’ he said, ‘which book you ought to read first.’

‘It won’t be a book,’ said Maisie as she placed the key in the lock, ‘it will be a letter.’

PATRICK CASEY had breakfast, lunch and dinner in the hotel restaurant on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.

Maisie assumed that he would take her to dinner at the Plimsoll Line in the hope that it might evoke past memories. In fact, she hadn’t been back to the restaurant since Patrick had disappeared off to Ireland. She was right, and it did.

Maisie was determined that she would not be seduced once again by Patrick’s charm and good looks, and she intended to tell him about Mike and their plans for the future. But as the evening progressed, she found it more and more difficult to raise the subject.

‘So, what have you been up to since I was last in Bristol?’ Patrick asked her over a pre-dinner drink in the lounge bar. ‘Not that anyone could miss the fact that you’re running the best hotel restaurant in the city while somehow managing to fit in evening classes at the same time.’

‘Yes, I shall miss all that when…’ she began wistfully.

‘When what?’ asked Patrick.

‘It’s only a twelve-week course,’ said Maisie, trying to recover.

‘In twelve weeks’ time,’ said Patrick, ‘my bet is you’ll be the one who’s giving the classes.’

‘What about you? What have you been up to?’ she asked as the head waiter came over to tell them their table was ready.

Patrick didn’t answer the question until they’d sat down at a quiet table in the corner of the room.

‘You may remember I was promoted to deputy manager of the company about three years ago, which is why I had to go back to Dublin.’

‘I haven’t forgotten why you had to go back to Dublin,’ said Maisie with some feeling.

‘I tried to return to Bristol several times, but once war broke out, it proved almost impossible, and it didn’t help that I couldn’t even write to you.’

‘Well, that problem may well be solved in the near future.’

‘Then you can read to me in bed.’

‘And how has your company fared during these hard times?’ asked Maisie, steering the conversation back on to safer ground.

‘Actually, a lot of Irish companies have done rather well out of the war. Because of the country’s neutrality, we’ve been able to deal with both sides.’

‘You’re willing to do business with the Germans?’ said Maisie in disbelief.

‘No, as a company we’ve always made it clear where our allegiances lie, but you won’t be surprised to know that quite a few of my countrymen are happy to do business with the Germans. Because of that, we had a couple of tough years, but once the Americans entered the war, even the Irish began to believe the Allies might end up on the winning side.’

That was her chance to tell Patrick about one American in particular, but she didn’t take it. ‘So what brings you to Bristol now?’ she asked.

‘The simple answer is, you.’

‘Me?’ Maisie quickly tried to think of a convincing way of bringing the conversation back on to a less personal footing.

‘Yes. Our managing director will be retiring at the end of the year, and the chairman has asked me to take his place.’

‘Congratulations,’ said Maisie, relieved to be back on safer ground. ‘And you want me to take over as your deputy,’ she added, trying to make light of it.

‘No, I want you to be my wife.’

Maisie’s tone changed. ‘Didn’t it cross your mind, Patrick, just for one moment during the past three years, that someone else might have come into my life?’

‘Daily,’ said Patrick, ‘which is why I came over to find out if there was someone else.’

Maisie hesitated. ‘Yes, there is.’

‘And has he asked you to marry him?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

‘Have you accepted his proposal?’

‘No, but I’ve promised to let him have my answer before he returns to America at the end of the month,’ she said more firmly.