Джеффри Арчер - The Prodigal Daughter

Miss Tredgold could not convince Florentyna that soonest might turn out to take some time since the army conducted a rigid system in deciding who should come home first, awarding points to those who had served the longest or had been wounded in battle. Florentyna remained optimistic, but the weeks passed slowly.

One evening, when she was returning home clutching yet another Brownie badge, this time for lifesaving, she spotted a light shining through a small window that had not been lit for over three years. She forgot her lifesaving achievement immediately, ran all the way down the street, and had nearly beaten the door down before Miss Tredgold came to answer it. She dashed upstairs to her father’s study, where she found him deep in conversation with her mother. She threw her arms around him and would not let go until finally he pushed her back to take a careful look at his ten-year-old daughter.

‘You’re so much more beautiful than your photographs.’

‘And you’re in one piece, Papa.’

‘Yes, and I won’t be going away again.’

‘Not without me, you won’t,’ said Florentyna, and clung on to him once more.

For the next few days, she pestered her father to tell her stories of the war. Had he met General Eisenhower? No. General Patton? Yes, for about ten minutes. General Bradley? Yes. Had he seen any Germans? No, but on one occasion he had helped to rescue wounded soldiers that had been ambushed by the enemy at Remagen.

‘And what happened—?’

‘Enough, enough, young lady. You’re worse than a staff sergeant on drill parade.’

Florentyna was so excited by her father’s homecoming that she was an hour late for bed that night and still didn’t sleep. Miss Tredgold reminded her how lucky she was that her Papa had returned without injury or disfigurement, unlike so many fathers of the children in her class.

When Florentyna heard that Edward Winchester’s father had lost an arm at somewhere called Bastogne, she tried to tell him how sorry she was.

Abel quickly returned to the routine of his work. No one recognized him when he first strode into the Chicago Baron: he had lost so much weight and looked so thin that the duty manager asked him who he was. The first decision Abel had to make was to order five new suits from Brooks Brothers because none of his pre-war clothes fitted him.

George Novak, as far as Abel could deduce from the annual reports he had been through, had kept the Group on an even keel in his absence, even if he had taken no great strides forward. It was also from George that he learned that Henry Osborne had been re-elected to Congress for a fifth term. He asked his secretary to call Washington.

‘Congratulations, Henry. Consider yourself elected to the board.’

‘Thank you, Abel. You’ll be glad to learn,’ said Henry, ‘that I have acquired six percent of Lester’s stock while you’ve been away rustling up gourmet dinners on Primus stoves for our top military brass.’

‘Well done, Henry. What hope is there of getting our hands on the magic eight percent?’

‘A very good chance,’ replied Henry. ‘Peter Parfitt, who expected to be chairman of Lester’s before Kane arrived on the scene, has been removed from the board and has about as much affection for Kane as a mongoose has for a rattlesnake. Parfitt has made it very clear that he is willing to part with his two percent.’

‘Then what’s stopping us?’

‘He’s demanding a million dollars for his holding, because I’m sure he’s worked out that his shares are all you need to topple Kane, and there are not many stockholders left for me to buy from. But a million is way above the ten percent over current stock value that you authorized me to proceed at.’

Abel studied the figures that Henry had left for him on his desk. ‘Offer him seven hundred and fifty thousand’ was all he said.

George was thinking about far smaller sums when he next spoke to Abel. ‘I allowed Henry a loan in your absence, and he still hasn’t paid the money back,’ he admitted.

‘A loan?’

‘Henry’s description, not mine,’ said George.

‘Who’s kidding who? How much?’ said Abel.

‘Five thousand dollars. I’m sorry, Abel.’

‘Forget it. If that’s the only mistake you’ve made in the last three years, I’m a lucky man. What do you imagine Henry spends the money on?’

‘Wine, women and song. There’s nothing particularly original about our congressman. There’s also a rumor around the Chicago bars that he’s started gambling quite heavily.’

‘That’s all I need from the latest member of the board. Keep an eye on him and let me know if the situation gets any worse.’

George nodded.

‘And now I want to talk about expansion. With Washington pumping three hundred million dollars a week into the economy, we must be prepared for a boom the like of which America has never experienced before. We must also start building Barons in Europe while land is cheap and most people are only thinking about survival. Let’s begin with London.’

‘For God’s sake, Abel, the place is as flat as a pancake.’

‘All the better to build on, my dear.’

‘Miss Tredgold,’ said Zaphia, ‘I’m going to a fashion show this afternoon, a benefit for the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, and I might not be back before Florentyna’s bedtime.’

‘Very good, Mrs. Rosnovski,’ said Miss Tredgold.

‘I’d like to go,’ said Florentyna.

Both women stared at the child in surprise.

‘But it’s only two days before your exams,’ said Zaphia, anticipating that Miss Tredgold would thoroughly disapprove if Florentyna attended something as frivolous as a fashion show. ‘What are you meant to be doing this afternoon?’

‘Medieval history,’ replied Miss Tredgold without hesitation. ‘Charlemagne through to the Council of Trent.’

Zaphia was sad that her daughter was not being allowed to take an interest in feminine pursuits but rather was expected to act as a surrogate son, filling the gap for her husband’s disappointment at not having a boy.

‘Then perhaps we’d better leave it for another time,’ she said. Zaphia would have insisted her daughter accompany her but realized that if Abel found out, both she and Florentyna would suffer for it later. However, for once Miss Tredgold surprised her.

‘I am not sure I agree with you, Mrs. Rosnovski,’ she said. ‘The occasion might well be the ideal one to introduce the child to the world of fashion and indeed of society.’ Turning to Florentyna, she added, ‘And a break from your studies a few days before exams can do you no harm.’

Zaphia looked at Miss Tredgold with new respect. ‘Perhaps you would like to come yourself?’ she added. It was the first time Zaphia had seen Miss Tredgold blush.

‘No, thank you, no, I couldn’t possibly.’ She hesitated. ‘I have letters, yes, letters to attend to, and I’ve set aside this afternoon to pen them.’

That afternoon, Zaphia was waiting by the main school gate dressed in a pink suit in place of the usual Miss Tredgold in sensible navy. Florentyna thought her mother looked extremely smart.

She wanted to run all the way to the Drake Hotel, where the fashion show was being held, and when she actually arrived she found it hard to remain still even though her seat was in the front row. She could have touched the haughty models as they picked their way gracefully down the brilliantly lit catwalk. As the pleated skirts swirled and dipped, tight-waisted jackets were taken off to reveal elegantly bare shoulders, and sophisticated ladies in floating yards of pale organza topped with silk hats drifted silently to unknown assignations behind a red velvet curtain. Florentyna sat entranced. When the last model had turned a full circle, signaling that the show had ended, a press photographer asked Zaphia if he could take her picture. ‘Mama,’ said Florentyna urgently as he was setting up his tripod, ‘you must wear your hat further forward if you want to be thought chic.’