Two Silver Crosses, page 47
‘Quite!’ Mr Crabbit said. ‘I’ve jotted down a short agenda, if you’ll just pass it round, Mr Commoner.’
The papers were passed as Agnes retrieved the drinks list and left the room. The agenda was read. It listed three topics, neatly and succinctly. Ginny read them in an undertone to her sister.
GS Holborn’s will.
Composition of new management committee.
Future of firm.
Claud Everdale opened his attack at once, while his passion ran high and before Agnes could return. ‘I feel I should warn you,’ he said to Mr Crabbit, ‘that I intend to contest this will. I had very grave doubts about it, as I told you at the time, Mr Commoner.’ Charlie nodded to show that he remembered. ‘I have my reasons for opposing it now, and very good reasons, compelling reasons, which I’m quite prepared to lay before this meeting, painful though that might be.’
The words tore into the quiet of the room like bullets, stopping conversation in his workmates and breath in his relations.
Ginny and Emily were instantly and painfully alert. Claud sounded frightening and, to Ginny’s startled eyes, he looked as aggressive as a cagoulard, his dark hair shining with brilliantine and fitting over his skull like a black cap. It will be the illness, they both thought. He knows.
‘For a start,’ Claud ploughed on, ‘I shall require medical evidence to prove that Mr Holborn was of sound mind when he made that will. I find it very hard to believe that he would knowingly hand over the running of this firm to a foreigner…’
‘Now, just a minute,’ Ginny interposed, anger rising. ‘We may be half French but we’re half English, too, and just as much part of this firm as your sons.’
‘…To a foreigner with a highly dubious character, by which I mean your mother. I’m sure you wouldn’t wish me to elaborate on that.’
Emily drew in her breath and pinched Ginny’s hand in warning. But her sister was too enraged to stop.
‘If you’ve got something to say about Maman,’ she challenged, ‘you’d better say it now and be done with it, instead of hinting.’ She could see the secretary and old Mr Pennyfield were embarrassed, but it was such a calculated insult she had to fight it. Charlie’s father was right. You had to stand up to bullies.
‘Very well, then,’ Claud said, delighted to see her so rattled, ‘I will say what I mean. I have no intention of opening this house or this company to the influence of your mother. She is not a fit person, as I know and can prove. If she turns up on my doorstep, I shall refuse her entrance. Is that clear enough for you?’
‘You needn’t worry,’ Ginny fought back. ‘She won’t “turn up”, as you put it. She’s in a convent.’
That was a surprise, but Claud recovered quickly. ‘The best place for her — in the circumstances.’ How menacing he made those three words sound. ‘Now, as to the will, which concerns you and your sister, I intend to fight it every inch of the way. Through the courts, if necessary.’
The unease in the room was palpable. Even Mr Manners was shifting in his seat and glaring at the table. Mr Reinhart coughed. Ginny pinched Emily’s hand. Oh God, what now? And Emily pinched back. Be calm, please be calm.
Rescue was at hand.
‘That is your prerogative, of course,’ Mr Crabbit said, intervening smoothly. ‘From a professional point of view it might be a trifle, shall we say, precipitate, given that the terms of the will are not… How shall I put this? Not as straightforward as we might wish.’
‘Dear me!’ Claud reproved. ‘Am I mistaken in thinking that your company drew up the will in the first place?’
‘No. You are quite correct. We did. In fact, to my shame, I was the person most responsible.’
Claud controlled the movement of his lips before they could smile. Now this was a turn up for the books. ‘You do surprise me, Mr Crabbit,’ he said.
‘These things happen, I fear,’ Mr Crabbit said, courteously apologetic. ‘However, as matters stand at the moment, I must confess I am a little unclear as to how we should proceed.’
‘What’s the problem?’ Claud asked. ‘Isn’t the will valid? Is that what you’re trying to say?’ How ironic after all the effort they’d made to find those girls.
‘Not exactly not valid,’ Mr Crabbit said. ‘More… How shall I put it? Complicated. Ah, Mrs Everdale, I’m glad you’re back again. I was just about to explain a little difficulty we’re having with your father’s will.’
‘Oh yes,’ Agnes said mildly, settling back into her seat. ‘What was that, Mr Crabbit?’
‘As you know,’ Mr Crabbit said, ‘the estate was to pass, in toto, to Mr Holborn’s four grandchildren, George Norman Everdale, John Arthur Everdale, Virginia Holborn and Emily Holborn, as she then was, Mrs Kenneth Hopkirk as she now is. However, it stipulated that this was to occur when the two young women were found, as we are all glad to see they have been, and when the two boys had achieved their majority, which, tall and mature though they undoubtedly are, has not yet occurred.’
‘I’m sixteen-and-a-half, sir,’ George said, ‘and he’s fourteen.’
‘Nearly fifteen,’ Johnny corrected.
‘Exactly,’ Mr Crabbit said.
‘So what is the problem?’ Agnes ventured.
‘A hiatus of seven years or thereabouts.’
Claud was doing rapid mental arithmetic. ‘You mean the will can’t be validated until 1945.’
That wasn’t the true fact of the matter, but Mr Crabbit wasn’t going to admit it.
‘Let’s put it this way,’ he said. ‘Some other formula will have to be found that will satisfy both your father-in-law’s intentions and the company’s needs in the meantime.’ He glanced around the table until his eye caught Charlie Commoner’s.
It was the moment Charlie had been waiting for.
‘As this is an ad hoc meeting, Mr Crabbit,’ he said, ‘are we required to take the items on the agenda in numerical order?’
‘No, not necessarily,’ Mr Crabbit said. ‘Is there any other order you would prefer?’
‘Well,’ Charlie said, ‘given today’s news from Czechoslovakia, perhaps the third item would be more appropriate.’
‘What news?’ Jack Pennyfield asked, looking up with interest (and relief). ‘What’s happened now?’
‘German troops are being moved towards the Bohemian border,’ Ken informed them, seizing the moment, because he’d had quite enough of Claud’s aggression. ‘It was on the wireless.’
Claud Everdale was still too busy working out the implications of Mr Crabbit’s confession to respond. Mr Pennyfield spoke up. ‘Invasion, d’you think?’ he asked.
‘Looks like it,’ Ken said.
‘Well, I’m not surprised,’ Mr Reinhart said, glad to be on to a safe topic. ‘It’s been on the cards.’
‘It’s the same trick they played in Austria,’ Ginny explained to her aunt, ‘and it’ll work the same way. First, you get the local Germans out on the streets demanding a referendum or a plebiscite or something like that and then you see to it that they get reported in the papers and put in the newsreels at the pictures. Then, when they’re making enough noise and people are beginning to say they ought to get what they want, Hitler walks in and occupies the whole country.’
‘Good heavens!’ Agnes said, impressed by Ginny’s grasp of current affairs. ‘Then you think Herr Hitler’s going to invade Czechoslovakia.’
‘It looks very much like it,’ Ken said. ‘If that is the case, and given the state of our alliances, we shall be at war with Germany. I’ve already taken orders for my company to increase output.’
For the second time that afternoon a chill descended on the meeting. They knew war was coming and there was nothing any of them could do to prevent it. They didn’t want it and they weren’t ready for it, but it was coming just the same. For a few seconds, and with the exception of Claud Everdale, they reflected on it in their different ways. Jack Pennyfield, Horace Crabbit and Agnes remembering the horror of the Great War; Emily thinking of the Somme and of Old Joliot’s graves; Ginny caught between her passionate conviction that fascism was evil and should be stopped and the anguish of knowing that war kills the innocent along with the guilty; Mr Reinhart recalling the Zeppelin raid he’d seen as a young man and shuddering at the memory; George imagining what it would be like to be in a dog fight; Johnny recoiling from the idea of being in any sort of fight at all; and Charlie, Ken and Mr Manners facing the fact that, whatever sort of fight it was and whenever it actually began, they would be in the thick of it.
‘Is Holborn’s increasing output, too?’ Agnes asked. If this war was coming, they’d better be ready for it.
‘Of course,’ Claud said, recovering himself. It was the first he’d heard of German troop movements, but he certainly wasn’t going to lose face by admitting that. He’d been watching the events in Czechoslovakia very closely and knew, like everyone else in the armaments industry, that war was likely.
‘Actually,’ Ken Hopkirk said, scoring a point (and serve him bloody well right), ‘Mrs Everdale and I have been discussing the possibility of a joint venture between our two companies. It’s probably not the right time to mention it but…’
‘Ah yes!’ Agnes said. ‘The Bren gun.’
‘Should I tell the meeting about it?’ Ken asked, looking round the table for assent, but particularly at Mr Crabbit.
‘Fire away!’ Mr Crabbit said. ‘If you’ll pardon the pun.’
Ken told them all he knew about the new light machine gun. ‘It’s been developed at Enfield,’ he said. ‘Looks like a pretty good gun to me, very versatile, but you’d know more about that than I would. It’s a lot lighter than the old machine gun, two-thirds the weight, so it can be fired from a variety of positions, lying prone, from armoured cars, free-standing. If it were mounted on a revolving stand it could be used for anti-aircraft purposes. Which is where Hopkirk’s comes in. I’ve been designing the stand.’
‘We’re talking of large orders then,’ Claud said, torn between the need to root these two usurping girls right out of the firm and the temptation of a deal that was plainly going to make a lot of money. Even in his present angry state, he could see that this young man was inventive and resourceful.
‘Very large,’ Ken told him. ‘According to Bentley’s there are plans to issue it on quite a scale. Fifty to a battalion so they say. Enfield’s are sub-contracting.’
‘I was thinking,’ Agnes said, ‘if we could get the contract, we could make the guns, and Ken here could provide the stands.’
‘Would this be in your factory in London?’ Mr Reinhart wanted to know.
‘It could be. I’ve got the space. Or it could be somewhere else, given I’ve enough capital.’
‘You have some plan in mind,’ Mr Crabbit prompted the secretary.
‘We’ve had our eyes on a possible new site,’ Mr Reinhart said, ‘with a view to the expansion that would be necessary in the event of a war, you understand. I was wondering whether the two firms might not join forces and build two new factories side by side. It would save transport costs. And time, of course.’
‘Now that’s a first-rate idea,’ Mr Pennyfield said. He looked at Claud.
‘Would the site take two factories?’ Claud asked, business acumen taking over.
‘It would take four,’ Mr Pennyfield told him. ‘If it’s the one I’m thinking about.’
‘We’ll inspect it first thing tomorrow morning,’ Claud said to Ken Hopkirk. ‘Take a team down. You’re right. This has distinct possibilities.’
‘If I might make a suggestion?’ Mr Crabbit said.
‘Yes?’ Claud asked. The man was a muddling old fool, but he was in the chair.
‘If this goes through, as I have no doubt it will, then you will need the services of Hedgethorn and Crabbit in a little matter of conveyancing, I daresay. That being so, perhaps you would care to retain the services of our Mr Commoner here.’
‘What a sensible idea!’ Agnes said. ‘Don’t you think so, Claud?’ And seeing that he didn’t, she went on very quickly. ‘It’s high time Holborn’s had a company solicitor. And here’s the very one. Would you be agreeable, Mr Commoner?’
Mr Commoner said he would be very agreeable. ‘Although I still have a contract with Mr Hedgethorn and Mr Crabbit.’
‘I’m sure we could come to some arrangement about that,’ Mr Crabbit said. ‘My own personal opinion, for what it’s worth, is that it would be an extremely apposite arrangement. However, it is not a decision to make in a hurry. That is so, is it not, Mr Everdale?’
Mr Everdale agreed that it was, scowling despite his efforts to smile.
‘Well, now,’ Mr Crabbit said, rubbing his hands together with satisfaction. ‘We seem to have made extraordinary progress for an ad hoc meeting. We’ve certainly discussed the future of the firm.’
That was agreed all round the table and with considerable self-congratulation.
‘Mr Crabbit,’ Emily’s clear voice sounded above the hubbub. ‘May I say something?’
‘Of course.’
‘I’ve been sitting here listening,’ Emily said, ‘and it seems to me that we’ve actually been dealing with all three of the items on our agenda.’
‘No, no,’ Claud said condescendingly. ‘We’ve been talking about the future plans of the firm, my dear. We haven’t dealt with the will at all. Nor shall we, if I have anything to do with it.’
‘I think,’ Emily persisted, ‘we’ve dealt with the future of the two firms so well that we’ve actually solved some of our other problems, too. Can I explain, Mr Crabbit?’
‘Please do,’ Mr Crabbit was intrigued. By now the other members round the table were listening closely.
‘Well, then,’ Emily said, eyes flickering. ‘We’ve made plans, we’ve taken decisions. But what’s really important, it seems to me, is that we haven’t had to fight about them. They’ve been — almost natural. We’ve done it as a committee or a board or whatever I ought to call it. So I think what I’m saying is we don’t have to discuss the…what were the words of the second item, Ginny?’
‘“The composition of the new management committee”,’ Ginny said.
‘That’s it,’ Emily said. ‘We don’t have to discuss it. We’ve done better than that. We’ve brought it into being this afternoon, haven’t we? We are it.’
‘Damn me!’ Mr Pennyfield said, giving his great head a shake. ‘You’re right. We have, too.’
Despite himself, Claud Everdale was impressed. She’d got a good head on her shoulders, blind though she was. She could see what was what. She’d chosen a good husband, too, a businessman.
‘Well, it might work,’ he said. ‘We could give it a try, I suppose.’
‘For the next three months?’ Mr Crabbit queried. ‘Or would six be better?’
‘We’ll try three and then see what six would do,’ Claud said, thinking, after three months everyone would know how foolish it was to have a whole lot of women on the board.
But there was still the will. And everyone in the family knew that hadn’t been solved. But she wouldn’t talk about that. Would she?
She didn’t. But Charlie Commoner did. ‘Now as to Mr Holborn’s will,’ he said. ‘It seems to me that we’ve made progress with that, too.’
Claud bristled, ready to protest again, but Mr Crabbit made a sign that they should all remain quiet.
‘As I understood it, nothing can be done about the will until George and Johnny are both twenty-one,’ Charlie continued. ‘Very well, then, I suggest you leave things as they are, pro tem, and run the firm with this committee, or a modification of it, if that is what you wish after three months. Mr Hopkirk and I would not become members of the board at this stage, as I’m sure you will understand. We have too much to do, at present, in our own particular fields. You would need to review the pay of the non-family members of the board and come to some arrangement about the shares that will keep all the family members of the committee on equal terms with one another. After that, you can bide your time.’
‘With the possibility of regular reviews at — shall we say six-monthly intervals — to see how the arrangement is working out and the concomitant possibility of emendation, if necessary,’ Mr Crabbit suggested. ‘That seems an eminently sensible arrangement, Mr Commoner. Would it suit the board?’
Hands were raised all round the table. And raised high.
It’ll do for the time being, Claud calculated. Once these solicitors are out of the way, I shall be in virtual control of the firm. The two girls will have votes, but they won’t signify and anyway, we can get rid of them in three months’ time. There was hope in all this and the certainty of profit besides. All in all, quite a victory for me, if I play my cards right.
‘Time those drinks were served,’ Agnes said. ‘We’ve got something to celebrate.’
The board meeting rapidly turned into a party.
‘I say!’ Johnny said to his newly discovered cousin Emily. ‘I thought for a minute that the Pater was going to blow you out of the water.’
‘So did I,’ Emily confessed. ‘I’m glad he didn’t.’
‘Shall you live here now?’ George asked Ginny.
‘I don’t know. Would you like us to?’
‘Rather! We could make up fours for tennis.’
‘Don’t bully them,’ Agnes laughed, coming up beside them. ‘You must let them make up their own minds.’
‘I can’t imagine anyone being able to bully Emily,’ Johnny said with admiration.
‘Nor me, Johnny,’ Ken said, giving his wife a hug. ‘She’s not as quiet as she looks, is she?’
‘It would be nice to have you living here,’ Agnes said. ‘It’s a company house, you know. The upkeep is paid for by the firm, so you’d have every right to it, even if we haven’t quite settled the will. It doesn’t belong to Claud for all his talk. We hold it in trust for the four of you. There’s plenty of room. Well, you remember that. But you must decide.’
‘What do you think?’ Emily said to Kenneth that night, in the room allotted to them in the west wing. ‘Ought we to live here?’
‘Would you like to?’
‘It’s up to you, really,’ she said, trying to give him a diplomatic answer. But her true feelings shone on her upturned face.
