This Was a Man Read online

  “Do you have an idea, a subject, or even a title?” pressed Seb as they entered Le Caprice.

  “Yes, yes, and yes,” said Harry, “but that’s all I’m willing to tell you at the moment.”

  “But you’ll tell me, won’t you, Grandpops?” said Jessica, as she produced a pencil drawing of Harry kneeling before the Queen, a sword touching his right shoulder.

  Harry gasped as the rest of the family smiled and applauded. He was about to answer her question, when the maître d’ stepped forward and rescued him.

  “Your table is ready, Sir Harry.”

  3

  “NEVER, NEVER, NEVER,” said Emma. “Do I have to remind you that Sir Joshua founded Barrington’s Shipping in 1839, and in his first year made a profit of—”

  “Thirty-three pounds, four shillings, and tuppence, which you first told me when I was five years old,” said Sebastian. “However, the truth is that although Barrington’s managed a reasonable dividend for its shareholders last year, it’s becoming more and more difficult for us to go on challenging the big boys like Cunard and P and O.”

  “I wonder what your grandfather would have thought about Barrington’s being taken over by one of his fiercest rivals?”

  “After everything I’ve been told or read about the great man,” said Seb, looking up at the portrait of Sir Walter that hung on the wall behind his mother, “he would have considered his options, and what would be best for the shareholders and employees, before coming to a final decision.”

  “Without wishing to interrupt this family squabble,” said Admiral Summers, “surely what we should be discussing is whether Cunard’s offer is worth the biscuit.”

  “It’s a fair offer,” said Sebastian matter-of-factly, “but I’m confident I can get them to raise their bid by at least ten percent, possibly fifteen, which frankly is as much as we could hope for. So all we really have to decide is do we want to take their offer seriously, or reject it out of hand?”

  “Then perhaps it’s time to listen to the views of our fellow directors,” said Emma, looking around the boardroom table.

  “Of course, we can all express an opinion, chairman,” said Philip Webster, the company secretary, “on what is unquestionably the most important decision in the company’s history. However, as your family remain the majority shareholders, only you can decide the outcome.”

  The other directors nodded in agreement but it didn’t stop them offering their opinions for the next forty minutes, by which time Emma had discovered they were evenly divided.

  “Right,” she said, after one or two directors began repeating themselves, “Clive, as head of our public relations division, I suggest you prepare two press statements for the board’s consideration. The first will be short and to the point, leaving Cunard in no doubt that while we are flattered by their offer, Barrington’s Shipping is a family company, and is not for sale.”

  The admiral looked pleased, while Sebastian remained impassive.

  “And the second?” asked Clive Bingham, after writing down the chairman’s words.

  “The board rejects Cunard’s offer as derisory and, as far as we’re concerned, it’s business as usual.”

  “That will lead them to believe that you might just be interested if the price was right,” warned Seb.

  “And then what would happen?” asked the admiral.

  “The curtain will go up, and the pantomime will begin,” said Seb, “because the chairman of Cunard will be well aware that the leading lady is doing no more than dropping her handkerchief on the floor in the expectation that the suitor will pick it up and begin an age-old courting process that just might end with a proposal she feels able to accept.”

  “How much time have we got?” asked Emma.

  “The City will be aware we’re holding a board meeting to discuss the takeover bid, and will expect a response to Cunard’s offer by close of business tonight. The market can handle almost anything, drought, famine, an unexpected election result, even a coup, but not indecision.”

  Emma opened her handbag, removed a handkerchief, and dropped it on the floor.

  * * *

  “What did you think of the sermon?” asked Harry.

  “Most interesting,” said Emma. “But then, the Reverend Dodswell always preaches a good sermon,” she added as they left the churchyard and made their way back to the Manor House.

  “I’d discuss his views on Doubting Thomas, if I thought you’d listened to a word.”

  “I found his approach fascinating,” protested Emma.

  “No, you didn’t. He never once mentioned Doubting Thomas, and I won’t embarrass you further by asking you what he did preach about. I only hope Our Lord will be understanding about your preoccupation with the possible takeover.”

  They walked a few more yards in silence before Emma said, “It’s not the takeover that’s worrying me.”

  “Then what?” said Harry, sounding surprised. Emma took his hand. “That bad?” he asked.

  “The Maple Leaf has returned to Bristol and is docked in the breakers’ yard.” She paused. “Demolition work will begin on Tuesday.”

  They continued walking for some time before Harry asked, “What do you want to do about it?”

  “I don’t think we have a lot of choice, if we’re not going to spend the rest of our lives wondering…”

  “And it might finally answer the question that’s bedeviled us for our entire lives. So why don’t you try and find out if there’s anything in the ship’s double bottom as discreetly as possible.”

  “Work could begin immediately,” admitted Emma. “But I wasn’t willing to give the final go-ahead until I had your blessing.”

  * * *

  Clive Bingham had been delighted when Emma asked him to join the board of Barrington’s Shipping, and although it hadn’t been easy to take his father’s place as a director, he felt the company had benefited from his experience and expertise in the public relations field, which it had been sadly lacking until his appointment. Even so, he had no doubt what Sir Walter Barrington would have thought about a PR man joining the board: like a tradesman being invited to dinner.

  Clive headed up his own PR company in the City, with a staff of eleven who had experienced several takeover battles in the past. But he admitted to Seb that he’d been losing sleep over this one.

  “Why? There’s nothing particularly unusual about a family company being taken over. It’s been happening a lot recently.”

  “I agree,” said Clive, “but this time it’s personal. Your mother had the confidence to invite me to join the board after my father resigned, and frankly it’s not as if I’m briefing the trade press on a new shipping route to the Bahamas, or the latest loyalty scheme, or even the building of a third liner. If I get this one wrong—”

  “So far your briefings have been pitch perfect,” said Seb, “and Cunard’s latest bid is almost there. We know it, and they know it, so you couldn’t have done a more professional job.”

  “It’s kind of you to say so, Seb, but I feel like a runner in the home straight. I can see the tape but there’s still one more hurdle to cross.”

  “And you’ll do it in style.”

  Clive hesitated a moment before he spoke again. “I’m not convinced your mother really wants to go ahead with the takeover.”

  “You may well be right,” said Seb. “However, there is a compensation for her that you might not have considered.”

  “Namely?”

  “She’s becoming more and more involved with her work as chairman of the hospital, which, don’t forget, employs more people and has an even bigger budget than Barrington’s Shipping and, perhaps more important, no one can take it over.”

  “But how do Giles and Grace feel? After all, they’re the majority shareholders.”

  “They’ve left the final decision to her, which is probably why she asked me how I felt. And I didn’t leave her in any doubt that I’m a banker by nature, not a shipping man, and I’d rather