As the Crow Flies Read online

  Despite this setback she continued to invite the partners of Kitcat to dinner at Chester Square in regular rotation. Gerald left his wife in no doubt that he did not approve of such tactics, and remained unconvinced that they helped their son’s cause. He had been, however, aware that his opinion in such matters had made little impression on her for some time. In any case, the major had now reached an age when he had become too weary to put up more than token resistance.

  After Mrs. Trentham had studied the finer details of the Trumper’s proposals in her husband’s copy of The Times, she instructed Nigel to apply for five percent of the company’s shares the moment the prospectus was launched.

  However, it was a paragraph towards the end of an article in the Daily Mail, written by Vincent Mulcrone and headed “The Triumphant Trumpers,” that reminded her that she was still in possession of a picture that needed to fetch its proper price.

  Whenever Mr. Baverstock requested a meeting with Mrs. Trentham it always seemed to her to be more of a summons than an invitation. Perhaps it was because he had acted for her father for over thirty years.

  She was only too aware that, as her father’s executor, Mr. Baverstock still wielded considerable influence, even if she had managed to clip his wings recently over the sale of the estate.

  Having offered her the seat on the other side of the partner’s desk Mr. Baverstock returned to his own chair, replaced his half-moon spectacles on the end of his nose and opened the cover of one of his inevitable gray files.

  He seemed to conduct all his correspondence, not to mention his meetings, in a manner that could only be described as distant. Mrs. Trentham often wondered if he had treated her father in the same way.

  “Mrs. Trentham,” he began, placing the palms of his hands on the desk in front of him and pausing to stare down at the notes he had written the previous evening. “May I first thank you for taking the trouble to come and see me in my offices and add how sad I am that your sister felt she had to once again decline my invitation. However, she has made it clear to me in a short letter I received last week that she is happy for you to represent her on this and indeed on any future occasion.”

  “Dear Amy,” said Mrs. Tremham. “The poor creature took the death of my father rather badly, even though I have done everything in my power to soften the blow.”

  The solicitor’s eyes returned to the file which contained a note from a Mr. Althwaite of Bird, Collingwood and Althwaite in Harrogate, instructing them to see that in future Miss Amy’s monthly check should be sent direct to Coutts in the Strand for an account number that differed by only one digit from that to which Mr. Baverstock already sent the other half of the monthly revenue.

  “Although your father left you and your sister the income derived from his Trust,” the solicitor continued, “the bulk of his capital will, as you know, in time be passed on to Dr. Daniel Trumper.”

  Mrs. Trentham nodded, her face impassive.

  “As you are also aware,” Mr. Baverstock continued, “the Trust is currently holding stocks, shares and gilts that are being administered for us by the merchant bankers Hambros and Company. Whenever they consider it prudent to make a sizable investment on behalf of the Trust, we feel it equally important to keep you informed of their intentions, despite the fact that Sir Raymond gave us a free hand in these matters.”

  “That’s most considerate of you, Mr. Baverstock.”

  The solicitor’s eyes returned to the file where he studied another note. This time it was from an estate agent in Bradford. The estate, house and contents of the late Sir Raymond Hardcastle had without his knowledge been sold for forty-one thousand pounds. After deducting commissions and legal fees, the agent had sent the balance of the monies direct to the same account at Coutts in the Strand as received Miss Amy’s monthly payment.

  “Bearing this in mind,” continued the family lawyer, “I felt it nothing less than my duty to inform you that our advisers are recommending a considerable investment in a new company that is about to come onto the market.”

  “And which company might that be?” inquired Mrs. Trentham.

  “Trumper’s,” said Baverstock, watching carefully for his client’s reaction.

  “And why Trumper’s in particular?” she asked, the expression on her face revealing no particular surprise.

  “Principally because Hambros consider it a sound and prudent investment. But, perhaps more important, in time the bulk of the company’s stock will be owned by Daniel Trumper, whose father, as I feel sure you know, is currently chairman of the board.”

  “I was aware of that,” said Mrs. Trentham, without further comment. She could see that it worried Mr. Baverstock that she took the news so calmly.

  “Of course, if you and your sister were both to object strongly to such a large commitment being made by the Trust it is possible our advisers might reconsider their position.”

  “And how much are they thinking of investing?”

  “Around two hundred thousand pounds,” the solicitor informed her. “This would make it possible for the Trust to purchase approximately ten percent of the shares that are on offer.”

  “Is that not a considerable stake for us to be holding in one company?”

  “It certainly is,” said Mr. Baverstock. “But still well within the Trust’s budget.”

  “Then I am happy to accept Hambros’ judgment,” said Mrs. Trentham. “And I feel sure I speak for my sister in this matter.”

  Once again Mr. Baverstock looked down at the file where he studied an affidavit signed by Miss Amy Hardcastle, virtually giving her sister carte blanche when it came to decisions relating to the estate of the late Sir Raymond Hardcastle, including the transfer of twenty thousand pounds from her personal account. Mr. Baverstock only hoped that Miss Amy was happy at the Cliff Top Residential Hotel. He looked up at Sir Raymond’s other daughter.

  “Then all that is left for me to do,” he concluded, “is to advise Hambros of your views in this matter and brief you more fully when Trumper’s eventually allocates their shares.”

  The solicitor closed the file, rose from behind his desk and began to walk towards the door. Mrs. Trentham followed in his wake, happy in the knowledge that both the Hardcastle Trust and her own advisers were now working in tandem to help her fulfill her long-term purpose without either side being aware of what she was up to. It pleased her even more to think that the day Trumper’s went public she would have control of fifteen percent of the company.

  When they reached the door Mr. Baverstock turned to shake Mrs. Trentham’s hand.

  “Good day, Mrs. Trentham.”

  “Good day, Mr. Baverstock. You have been most punctilious, as always.”

  She made her way back to the car where a chauffeur held open the back door for her. As she was driven away she turned to look out of the rear window. The lawyer was standing by the door of his offices, the worried expression remaining on his face.

  “Where to, madam?” asked the chauffeur as they joined the afternoon traffic.

  She checked her watch: the meeting with Baverstock had not taken as long as she had anticipated and she now found herself with some spare time before her next appointment. Nevertheless she still gave the instruction. “The St. Agnes Hotel,” as she placed a hand on the brown paper parcel that lay on the seat beside her.

  She had told Harris to book a private room in the hotel and slip Kitty Bennett up in the lift at a time when he felt confident that no one was watching them.

  When she arrived at the St. Agnes clutching the parcel under one arm, she was annoyed to find that Harris was not waiting for her in his usual place by the bar. She intensely disliked standing alone in the corridor and reluctantly went over to the hall porter to ask the number of the room Harris had booked.

  “Fourteen,” said a man in a shiny blue uniform with buttons that did not shine. “But you can’t—”

  Mrs. Trentham was not in the habit of being told “You can’t” by anyone. She turned and slow