Sue for Mercy - Veronica Heley Page 0,42
“Cancel it! I will not have my orders set aside.”
Charles shrugged and asked if he might use the phone. I wondered if this little exchange had been a put-up job or not; I came to the conclusion that if I had to wonder about it, the others would be taking it for the real thing. I came to another conclusion. I liked J.B. about as little as he liked me, and that under no circumstances whatever would I live under the same roof as him, or allow Charles to go on working for him.
I put the food on the table while the others drifted in. Julian didn’t look into his father’s eyes when he spoke to him, but addressed a spot just below J.B.’s collar. As we sat down, Ruth made a brave attempt at sociability, complimenting J.B. on the gaily-patterned shirt and matching tie that he was wearing.
“A Christmas present,” said J.B. He didn’t even glance at Charles, but I knew who had given them to him. Bianca started to carve; I thought it was typical of the Brenner household that she should undertake this function. Julian poured wine. Neither Charles nor J.B. wanted it.
J.B. yawned and tried to smother it. “I’m glad you rang me, Julian — been thinking for some time that we ought to make up our quarrel — blood’s thicker than water, and... anyway, I wanted to discuss this question of my Will with you. It wasn’t altogether fair of me to disinherit you as I did. I was too hasty.” Having let off his firework, he lapsed into silence.
The conspirators exchanged glances. Charles stolidly helped himself to the salad. Bianca slashed at the turkey angrily. J.B. started washing his face again.
Charles leaned forward. “Are you all right, sir?”
“Of course,” snapped J.B., removing his hand. “Yes, a good opportunity, as I was saying... especially with Robert being here as well. Almost providential.”
“What changes were you thinking of, father?” asked Julian, his voice going high.
“With the coming of Old Age, one fears death more and not less,” said J.B., smiling. I could see it was all a party trick, and that he could lay charm on with a trowel, just as Charles could do. “One begins to think of all the sins of commission and omission which one may have committed. One has more time for reflection, for reading, for thinking how little it matters if one doesn’t always get one’s own way.” I found his plea touching, even while my brain warned me it was calculated. He filled his glass with water, and sipped at it, staring down the table at Julian. “You are my only son, after all. In some sense you are what I have made you. Need I say more?”
“You mean,” said Bianca with care, “that you are going to reinstate Julian as your heir?” I could see her brain struggling with the problem: ought they to call their plan off, and risk the old man changing his mind again — or carry on?
J.B. sighed. He was only playing with his food. “I’m not sure that that would be a good thing, Bianca. Julian has done better than I expected since he started work for Oliver — for Robert here. The job seems to have provided him with a certain measure of stability. It may well be that a modest inheritance...”
“A modest inheritance!” Bianca’s voice was strident. “I thought you were talking of reinstating him as your heir!”
J.B. yawned again. He was speaking more and more slowly. “Forgive me. I appear to be in need of another injection sooner than... I should explain that I have no intention of leaving all my money to Julian since he has neither the brains to administer the estate properly, nor the sense not to let you squander it for him. What I had in mind was to establish a Trust Fund in favour of my old college, so that they may build a Science Laboratory, bearing my name. Then there are various bequests to servants — annuities, and so on. I want to settle a sum on Julian sufficient to bring him in an income of two thousand pounds a year, and to buy him a partnership in Oliver’s old firm... that is, if Robert here agrees.”
Everyone stopped eating, except Charles. Bianca’s eyes were wild. She fixed them on her husband, who was looking at his father with the sick, intense glare of a trapped animal. His chin trembled.
J.B. dabbed at his lips. “What do