The Sins of the Father - By Jeffrey Archer Page 0,32

better . . . except - '

'Except?' repeated Giles. It was some time before his mother quietly added, 'How much more convenient it would have been if Emma had produced a daughter, rather than a son.'

'Why is that important?' asked Giles, as he refilled his glass.

His mother bowed her head, but said nothing.

'Oh God,' said Giles, as the significance of her words sank in. 'I had assumed that when Harry died, I would inherit - '

'I'm afraid you can't assume anything, darling,' said his mother looking up. 'That is, not until it can be established that your father is not also Harry's father. Until then, under the terms of your great-grandfather's will, it will be Sebastian who eventually inherits the title.'

Giles hardly spoke again during the meal while he tried to take in the significance of his mother's words. Once coffee had been served, his mother said she felt tired and went to bed.

When Giles climbed the stairs to his room a few moments later, he couldn't resist dropping into the nursery to see his godson. He sat alone with the heir to the Barrington title. Sebastian gurgled in blissful sleep, clearly untroubled by war, and certainly not giving a thought to his grandfather's will, or the significance of the words, and all that therein is.

The following day Giles joined his grandfathers for lunch at the Savage Club. It was a very different atmosphere from the weekend they'd shared five months earlier at Mulgelrie Castle. The only thing the two old men seemed keen to find out was where his regiment would be posted.

'I've no idea,' replied Giles, who would like to have known himself; but he would have given the same response even if he had been briefed, despite the fact that these two venerable old gentlemen were Boer War veterans.

The Sins of the Father

Lieutenant Barrington rose early on the Monday morning and, after breakfast with his mother, was driven by Hudson to the headquarters of the 1st Wessex regiment. He was held up by a steady stream of armoured vehicles and lorries filled with troops pouring out of the main gate. He got out of the car and walked to the guard house.

'Good morning, sir,' said a corporal, after giving him a crisp salute; something Giles still hadn't got used to. 'The adjutant has requested that you report to his office as soon as you arrive.'

'I'd be happy to do so, corporal,' said Giles, returning his salute, 'if I knew where Major Radcliffe's office was.'

'Far side of the square, sir, green door. You can't miss it.'

Giles marched across the square, returning several more salutes before he reached the adjutant's office.

Major Radcliffe looked up from behind his desk as Giles entered the room.

'Ah, Barrington, old chap. Good to see you again,' he said. 'We weren't certain if you'd make it in time.'

'In time for what, sir?' asked Giles.

'The regiment's been posted abroad, and the colonel felt you should be given the opportunity of joining us, or staying behind and waiting for the next shindig.'

'Where are we going, sir?'

'Haven't a clue, old chap; way above my rank. But I can tell you one thing for certain, it will be a damn sight closer to the Germans than Bristol.'
Chapter 13
HARRY CLIFTON

1941

13

HARRY WOULD NEVER FORGET the day Lloyd was released from Lavenham and, although he wasn't disappointed to see him go, he was surprised by Max's parting words.

'Would you do me a favour, Tom?' Lloyd said as they shook hands for the last time. 'I'm enjoying your diaries so much, I'd like to go on reading them. If you'd send them to this address,' he said, handing Harry a card as if he were already on the outside, 'I'll return them to you within a week.'

Harry was flattered, and agreed to send Max each exercise book once he'd completed it.

The following morning Harry took his place behind the librarian's desk, but didn't consider reading the previous day's newspaper before he'd completed his duties. He continued to update his diaries every evening, and whenever he came to the end of a notebook, he would post his latest efforts to Max Lloyd. He was relieved, and a little surprised, when they were always returned, as promised.

As the months passed, Harry began to accept the fact that prison life was mostly routine and mundane, so when the warden charged into the library one morning brandishing his copy of the New York Times he was taken by surprise. Harry put down the stack of