As the Crow Flies Read online

  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.”

  The bookseller was unable to see the expression on Mrs. Trentham’s face as she had not yet removed her veil. She followed the old man past shelf after shelf of dust-covered books until they reached his little room at the back of the shop. There she was introduced to Dr. Halcombe who, like Sneddles, was wearing a heavy overcoat. She declined to take the offered chair when she noticed that it too was covered in a thin layer of dust.

  The old man proudly pointed to eight boxes that lay on his desk. It took him nearly an hour to explain, with the occasional interjection from Dr. Halcombe, how they had catalogued her late father’s entire library, first alphabetically under authors, then by categories and finally with a separate cross-section under titles. A rough valuation of each book had also been penciled neatly in the bottom right-hand corner of every card.

  Mrs. Trentham was surprisingly patient with Mr. Sneddles, occasionally asking questions in whose answer she had no interest, while allowing him to indulge in a long and complicated explanation as to how he had occupied his time during the past five years.

  “You have done a quite remarkable job, Mr. Sneddles,” she said after he flicked over the last card, “Zola, Emile (1840–1902).” “I could not have asked for more.”

  “You are most kind, madam,” said the old man, bowing low, “but then you have always shown such a genuine concern in these matters. Your father could have found no more suitable person to be responsible for his life’s work.”

  “Fifty guineas was the agreed fee, if I remember correctly,” said Mrs. Trentham, removing a check from her handbag and passing it over to the owner of the bookshop.

  “Thank you, madam,” Mr. Sneddles replied, taking the check and placing it absentmindedly in an ashtray. He refrained from adding, “I would happily have paid you double the sum for the privilege of carrying out such an exercise.”

  “And I see,” she said, studying the accompanying papers closely, “that you have placed an overall value on the entire collection of a little under five thousand pounds.”

  “That is correct, madam. I should warn you, however, that if anything I have erred on the conservative side. You see, some of these volumes are so rare it would be difficult to say what they might fetch on the open market.”

  “Does that mean you would be willing to offer such a sum for the library should I wish to dispose of it?” asked Mrs. Trentham, looking directly at him.

  “Nothing would give me greater pleasure, madam,” replied the old man. “But alas, I fear that I quite simply do not have sufficient funds to do so.”

  “What would your attitude be were I to entrust you with the responsibility for their sale?” asked Mrs. Trentham, her eyes never leaving the old man.

  “I can think of no greater privilege, madam, but it might take me many months—possibly even years to carry out such an enterprise.”

  “Then perhaps we should come to some arrangement, Mr. Sneddles.”

  “Some arrangement? I’m not sure I fully understand you, madam.”

  “A partnership perhaps, Mr. Sneddles?”

  CHAPTER

  34

  Mrs. Trentham approved of Nigel’s choice of bride; but then it was she who had selected the young lady in the first place.

  Veronica Berry possessed all the attributes her future mother-in-law considered necessary to become a Trentham. She came from a good family: her father was a vice-admiral who had not yet been placed on the reserve list and her mother was the daughter of a suffragan bishop. They were comfortably off without being wealthy and, more important, of their three children, all daughters, Veronica was the eldest.

  The wedding was celebrated at Kimmeridge parish church in Dorset where Veronica had been christened by the vicar, confirmed by the suffragan bishop and was now to be married by the bishop of Bath and Wells. The reception was grand enough without being lavish and “the children,” as Mrs. Trentham referred to them, would, she told everyone, be spending their honeymoon on the family estate in Aberdeen before returning to a mews house in Cadogan Place that she had selected for them. It was so convenient for Chester Square, she explained when asked, and also when not asked.

  Every one of the thirty-two partners of Kitcat and Aitken, the stockbrokers for whom Nigel worked, was invited to the nuptial feast, but only five felt able to make the journey to Dorset.

  During the reception, held on the lawn of the vice-admiral’s home, Mrs. Trentham made a point of speaking to all those partners present. To her consternation none was particularly forthcoming about Nigel’s future.

  Mrs. Trentham had rather hoped that her son might have been made a partner soon after his fortieth birthday as she was well aware that several younger men had seen their names printed on the top left-hand side of the letter paper despite having joined the firm some time after Nigel.

  Just before the speeches were about to begin a shower sent the guests scurrying back into the marquee. Mrs. Trentham felt the bridegroom’s speech could have been received a little more warmly. However, she allowed that it was quite hard to applaud when you were holding a glass of champagne in one hand and an asparagus roll in the other. Indeed, Nigel’s best man, Hugh Folland, hadn’t done a great deal better.

  After the speeches were over Mrs. Trentham sought out Miles Renshaw, the senior partner of Kitcat and Aitken, and after taking him on one side revealed that in the near future she intended to invest a considerable sum of money in a company that was planning to go public. She would therefore be in need of his advice as to what she described as her long-term strategy.

  This piece of information did not elicit any particular response from Renshaw, who still remembered Mrs. Trentham’s assurance over the future management of the Hardcastle portfolio once her father had died. However, he suggested that perhaps she should drop into their City office and go over the details of the transaction once the official tender document had been released.

  Mrs. Trentham thanked Mr. Renshaw and continued to work her way round the assembled gathering as if it were she who was the hostess.

  She didn’t notice Veronica’s scowl of disapproval on more than one occasion.

  It was the last Friday in September 1947 that Gibson tapped quietly on the door of the living room, entered and announced, “Captain Daniel Trentham.”

  When Mrs. Trentham first saw the young man dressed in the uniform of a captain in the Royal Fusiliers, her legs almost gave way. He marched in and came to a halt in the middle of the carpet. The meeting that had taken place in that room more than twenty-five years before immediately sprang to her mind. Somehow she managed to get herself across the room before collapsing onto the sofa.

  Gripping its arm to make sure she didn’t pass out completely Mrs. Trentham stared up at her grandson. She was horrified at his resemblance to Guy, and felt quite sick by the memories he evoked. Memories which for so many years she had managed to keep at the back of her mind.

  Once she had composed herself Mrs. Trentham’s first reaction was to order Gibson to throw him out, but she decided to wait for a moment as she was anxious to discover what the young man could possibly want. As Daniel delivered his carefully rehearsed sentences she began to wonder