As the Crow Flies (62 page)

“Oh,
I’m so glad to hear that.” Amy’s face lit up for the first time. “Please do
tell me what Papa had in mind.”

“Father
was adamant that you should sell the house as quickly as possible and either
come and live with Gerald and me at Ashurst... “

“Oh,
I could never dream of putting you to so much trouble, Ethel.”

“...
or alternatively you could move into one of those nice little hotels on the coast
that cater specially for retired couples and single people. He felt that way
you could at least make new friends and indeed even have an extended lease on
life. I would naturally prefer you to join us in Buckingham, but what with the
bombs... “

“He
never mentioned selling the house to me,” murmured Amy anxiously. “In fact, he
begged me... “

“I
know, my dear, but he realized only too well what a strain his death would be
on you and asked me to break the news gently. You will no doubt recall the long
meeting we held in his study when I last came up to see him.”

Amy
nodded her acknowledgment but the look of bewilderment remained on her face.

“I
remember every word he said,” Mrs. Trentham went on. “Naturally, I shall do my
utmost to see his wishes are carried out.”

“But
I wouldn’t know how or where to begin.”

“There’s
no need for you to give it a second thought, my dear.” She patted her sister’s
arm. “That’s exactly why I’m here.”

“But
what will happen to the servants and my dear Garibaldi?” Amy asked anxiously as
she continued stroking the cat. “Father would never forgive me if they weren’t
all properly taken care of.”

“I
couldn’t agree more,” Mrs. Trentham said. “However, as always he thought of
everything and gave me explicit instructions as to what should be done with all
the staff.”

“How
thoughtful of dear Papa. However, I am not altogether certain...”

It
took Mrs. Trentham two more days of patient encouragement before she was
finally able to convince her sister that her plans for the future would all
work out for the best and, more important, it was what “dear Papa” wanted.

From
that moment on Amy only came down in the afternoons to take a short walk around
the garden and occasionally attend to the petunias. Whenever Mrs. Trentham came
across her sister she begged her not to overdo things.

Three
days later Amy dispensed with her afternoon walk.

The
following Monday Mrs. Trentham gave the staff a week’s notice, with the
exception of the cook whom she told to stay on until Miss Amy had been setded.
That same afternoon she sought out a local agent and placed the house and the
sixty-acre estate on the market.

On
the following Thursday Mrs. Trentham made an appointment to see a Mr.
Althwaite, a solicitor in Harrogate. On one of her sister’s infrequent visits
downstairs she explained to Amy that it had not been necessary to bother Mr.
Baverstock: she felt certain any problem that arose concerning the estate could
be more easily dealt with by a local man.

Three
weeks later Mrs. Trentham was able to move her sister and a few of her
belongings into a small residential hotel overlooking the east coast a few
miles north of Scarborough. She agreed with the proprietor that it was
unfortunate that they could not allow pets but felt sure that her sister would
fully understand. Mrs. Trentham’s final instruction was to send the monthly
bills direct to Coutts in the Strand, where they would be settled immediately.

Before
Mrs. Trentham bade farewell to Amy she got her sister to sign three documents. “So
that you will have nothing more to worry about, my dear,” Mrs. Trentham
explained in a gentle tone.

Amy
signed all three of the forms placed in front of her without bothering to read
them. Mrs. Trentham quickly folded up the legal papers prepared by the local
solicitor and deposited them in her handbag.

“I’ll
see you soon,” she promised Amy before kissing her sister on the forehead. A
few minutes later she began her journey back to Ashurst.

The
bell above the door clanged noisily in the musty silence as Mrs. Trentham
stepped smartly into the shop. At first there was no sign of movement until at
last Mr. Sneddles appeared from his little room at the rear carrying three
books under his arm.

“Good
morning, Mrs. Trentham,” he said. “How kind of you to respond to my note so
quickly. I felt I had to contact you as a problem has arisen.”

“A
problem?” Mrs. Trentham drew back the veil that covered her face.

“Yes.
As you are aware, I have almost completed my work in Yorkshire. I am sorry it
has taken so long, madam, but I fear I have been overindulgent with my time,
such was my appreciation of... “

Mrs.
Trentham waved a hand in a manner that indicated she was not displeased.

“And
I fear,” he continued, “that despite enlisting the good services of Dr.
Halcombe as my assistant and also remembering the time it takes to travel up
and down to Yorkshire it may still take us several more weeks to both catalogue
and value such a fine collection always aware that your late father spent a
lifetime putting the library together.”

“It’s
of no consequence,” Mrs. Trentham assured him. “You see, I’m not in a hurry. Do
take your time, Mr. Sneddles, and just let me know when you have completed the
task.”

The
antiquarian smiled at the thought of being allowed to continue his cataloguing
uninterrupted.

He
escorted Mrs. Trentham back to the front of the shop and opened the door to let
her out. No one who saw them together would have believed they had been born in
the same year. She stared up and down Chelsea Terrace before quickly dropping
the veil across her face.

Mr.
Sneddles closed the door behind her and rubbed his mittens together, then
shuffled back to his room to join Dr. Halcombe.

Lately
he had been annoyed whenever a customer entered the shop.

“After
thirty years, I have no intention of changing my stockbrokers,” Gerald Trentham
said curtly as he poured himself a second cup of coffee.

“But
can’t you understand, my dear, just what a boost it would give Nigel to secure
your account for his company?”

“And
what a blow it would be for David Cartwright and Vickers da Costa to lose a
client whom they have served so honorably for over a hundred years? No Ethel,
it’s high time Nigel carried out his own airy work. Damn it all, he’s over
forty.”

“All
the more reason to help,” his wife suggested as she buttered a second piece of
toast.

“No,
Ethel. I repeat, no.”

“But
can’t you see that one of Nigel’s responsibilities is to bring new clients into
the firm? It’s particularly important at this moment, as I feel sure that now
the war is over, they will soon be offering him a partnership.

Major
Trentham didn’t try to hide his incredulity at this piece of news. “If that is
the case, he should be making more use of his own contacts preferably the ones
he made at school and at Sandhurst, not to mention the Ciy. He shouldn’t always
expect to fall back on his father’s friends.”

“That’s
hardly fair, Gerald. If he can’t rely on his own flesh and blood, why should he
expect anyone else to come to his aid?”

“Come
to his aid? That just about sums it up.” Gerald’s voice rose with every word. “Because
that’s exactly what you’ve been doing since the day he was born, which is
perhaps the reason he is still unable to stand on his own two feet.”

“Gerald,”
Mrs. Trentham said, removing a handkerchief from her sleeve. “I never
thought... “

“In
any case,” the major replied, trying to restore some calm, “it’s not as if my
portfolio is all that impressive. As you and Mr. Attlee know only too well, all
our capital is bound up in land and has been for generations.”

“It’s
not the amount that matters,” Mrs. Trentham chided him. “It’s the principle.”

“Couldn’t
agree with you more,” said Gerald as he folded his napkin, rose from the breakfast
table and left the room before his wife could utter another word.

Mrs.
Trentham picked up her husband’s morning paper and ran her finger down the
names of those who had been awarded knighthoods in the birthday honors. Her
shaking finger stopped at the Ps.

During
his summer vacation, according to Max Harris, Daniel Trumper had taken the
Queen Mary to America. However, the private detective was quite unable to
answer Mrs. Trentham’s next question why? All that Harris could be sure of was
that Daniel’s college still expected the young don back for the start of the
new academic year.

During
the weeks that Daniel was away in America Mrs. Trentham spent a considerable
amount of time closeted with her solicitors in Lincoln’s Inn Fields while they
prepared a building application for her.

She
had already sought out three architects, all of whom had recently qualified.
She instructed them to prepare outline drawings for a block of flats to be
built in Chelsea. The winner, she assured them, would be offered the commission
while the other two would receive one hundred pounds each in compensation. All
three happily agreed to her terms.

Some
twelve weeks later, each presented his portfolio but only one of them had come
up with what Mrs. Trentham was hoping for.

In
the opinion of the senior partner of the law practice, the submission by the
youngest of the three, Justin Talbot, would have made Battersea Power Station
look like the Palace of Versailles. Mrs. Trentham did not divulge to her
solicitor that she had been influenced in her selection by the fact that Mr.
Talbot’s uncle was a member of the Planning Committee of the London County
Council.

Even
if Talbot’s uncle were to come to his nephew’s aid, Mrs. Trentham remained
unconcerned that a majority of the committee would accept such an outrageous
offering. It resembled a bunker that even Hitler might have rejected. However,
her lawyers suggested that she should state in her application that the primary
purpose of the new building was to create some low-cost housing in the center
of London to help students and single unemployed men who were in dire need of
temporary accommodation. Second, any income derived from the flats would be
placed in a charitable trust to help other families suffering from the same
problem. Third, she should bring to the committee’s attention the painstaking
efforts that have been made to give a young, recently qualified architect his
first break.

Mrs.
Trentham didn’t know whether to be delighted or appalled when the LCC granted
its approval. After long deliberation over several weeks, they insisted on only
a few minor modifications to young Talbot’s original plans. She gave her
architect immediate instructions to clear the bombed-out site so that the
building could begin without delay.

The
application to the LCC by Sir Charles Trumper for a new store to be erected in
Chelsea Terrace came in for considerable national publicity, most of it
favorable. However, Mrs. Trentham noted that in several articles written about
the proposed new building, there was mention of a certain Mr. Martin Simpson
who described himself as the president of the Save the Small Shops Federation a
body that objected to the whole concept of Trumper’s. Mr. Simpson claimed it
could only harm the little shopkeeper in the long run; their livelihoods were,
after all, being put at risk. He went on to complain that what made it even
more unfair was that none of the local shopkeepers had the means of taking on a
man as powerful and wealthy as Sir Charles Trumper.

“Oh,
yes, they have,” Mrs. Trentham said over breakfast that morning.

“Have
what?”

“Nothing
important,” she reassured her husband but later that day she supplied Harris
with the financial wherewithal to allow Mr. Simpson to lodge an official objection
to the Trumper scheme. Mrs. Trentham also agreed to cover any out-of-pocket
costs Mr. Simpson might incur while carrying out his endeavors.

She
began to follow the results of Mr. Simpson’s efforts daily in the national
press, even confiding to Harris that she would have been happy to pay the man a
fee for the service he was rendering; but like so many activists the cause was
all he seemed to care about.

Once
the bulldozers had moved in on Mrs. Trentham’s site and work had come to a
standstill on Trumper’s, she turned her attention back to Daniel and the
problem of his inheritance.

Her
lawyers had confirmed that there was no way of reversing the provisions in the
will unless Daniel Trumper were voluntarily to resign all his rights. They even
presented her with a form of words that would be necessary for him to sign in
such circumstances, leaving Mrs. Trentham the daunting task of actually getting
his signature affixed to the paper.

As
Mrs. Trentham was unable to imagine any situation in which she and Daniel would
ever meet she considered the whole exercise futile. However, she carefully
locked the lawyer’s draft in the bottom drawer of her desk in the drawing room
along with all the other Trumper documents.

“How
nice to see you again, madam,” said Mr. Sneddles. “I cannot apologize too
profusely over the length of time I have taken to complete your commission. I
shall naturally charge you no more than the sum on which we originally agreed.”