All Change: Cazalet Chronicles (39 page)

When she had asked Roland the next day whether he had enjoyed himself, expecting a simple, enthusiastic response, he had said, ‘Of course I did. It made a super change. It was good fun.’ Then he had added, ‘Mum! Why don’t we see more of the family? I hardly ever see my cousins, even if they don’t have anything much to do with Dad. Last Christmas they had it at Home Place and we didn’t go. We just had the usual boring time here.’

The usual boring time! And she had tried so hard to make it festive for him. He could have no idea how hard she had tried . . .

And suddenly she saw something different about her life with Roland. She realised that, yes, she did all she could on the domestic front, but the emotional deprivation, the lack of anything fun in the house, she had blamed on Edward’s absence. Everything about that was, quite simply, his fault and nothing to do with her. And Roland was paying for it. He was loyal, patient, tender about Miss Milliment, but he came home to a house with two unhappy old women. Edward seemed to take no interest in him, and that, too, was her fault. She had been so bitter about his leaving, so hostile to his new life, that she had made any advance on Roland’s side a treachery.

She felt so ashamed, so paralysed, by these insights that she did not know where to begin, but before she could, with apologies, with promises of change, he interrupted her.

‘I was wondering, Mum, whether you would like me to do the visit to Miss Milliment today. I know it makes you awfully sad, and it isn’t your fault. You’ve been marvellous to her, and I could easily go. I haven’t got anything to do and you could have a nice rest.’

She looked at him – he was cleaning his nails rather dangerously with a penknife – and knew that the change must start now.

‘Oh, darling, that would be angelic of you! I was wondering whether we might go out to dinner tonight and I thought perhaps that you should choose somewhere ritzy that you would like.’

He looked embarrassed. ‘Well, as a matter of fact I had made a sort of plan to spend the early evening with Simpson.’

‘That’s fine by me. We could have our dinner afterwards. And I’m really grateful to you for going to see Miss Milliment. I do warn you, she may not know who the hell you are.’

‘That’s all right. Don’t look so worried, Mum. You’ll be all right this evening, then? You won’t mind being alone?’

‘Of course I shan’t.’

‘OK, then. I’ll be off.’

He gave her a brief hug, and went. The house seemed very silent after the front door slammed. I’ve got to not mind being alone, she thought. Because that is what it is going to be like, with Roland at university and Miss M gone. So either I have got to learn to like it, or I must get a lodger. Or move somewhere smaller: this house will be too large once Roland is launched. She felt it right not to indulge in a wealth of apologies, since she could not be certain that they would not be laced with self-pity and the subterranean self-hatred that accompanied it.

And much later, in the night, when all kinds of random and undesirable thoughts occurred, it suddenly struck her that she must have had something to do with why Edward had left her.

HUGH, RACHEL AND THE BANK

He had done all he could to comfort her, and she had been most touchingly grateful. For the first two nights she had talked about Sid, about the awful weeks before she had died. She had wept steadily, but at least she had someone to listen, to help her unburden some of her anguish. ‘I know that you have been through all this with darling Sybil. You know how terrible it is to watch someone you love so much suffer so much, to recognise that the only way out for them is their death. I would so gladly have died for her.’

‘Perhaps it’s harder being the one who is left.’ As he said this he realised that it had not been true for him, he had had the children to care for, but she, Rachel, had nothing. He took her hand. ‘It will not always be as painful as now. Of course you will always love her and miss her, but it will get easier to bear with time. You have to trust me about that. We all love you, you know.’

Later, when they were about to go to bed, she said, ‘I suppose I shall have to leave this house. It costs too much for me to be knocking about alone in it.’

No,
no
, NO! Hugh assured her. This was her home: she would never have to leave it unless she wanted to. He and Rupert would pay their share, and the families would all come down in the holidays – just like the old times. He noticed a little glimmer cross her face – not actually a smile but some relief.

The following week there had been the funeral, with Rupert and Archie, and they had brought an enormous wreath made entirely of snowdrops, and Rachel had been pleased about that. He had announced that he would be staying the night, as he knew how bleak the house would be for her if they all left after the wake.

That evening, over the excellent fish pie that Mrs Tonbridge had made, he suggested, very gently, that perhaps Rachel might like to stay with them in London. ‘Jemima asked me to ask you, because she would love to have you for a bit of a rest.’ It was no-go. It was awfully kind of them to ask her, but she thought she would rather stay put. Too soon to ask, he thought. Aloud, he said, just let him know if she suddenly felt she needed a change.

He had to leave early the next morning because he had a meeting with the bank. He had been dreading this for some time now, and he felt particularly cross with Edward, who did not want to be there. He hadn’t come to the funeral either, which Hugh felt was most unreasonable of him. Selfish and weak. He knew that Diana had been rude to Sid, but nobody had expected her to come. Edward could have cared enough to have made a discreet appearance

To his immense surprise, however, Edward did turn up at the bank. ‘Thought I’d better see what’s going on,’ he said.

It turned out that he knew more about that than Hugh. The bank had asked to see last year’s accounts, and Edward had had them sent over.

The meeting was at eleven. In the old days, their father would have been invited to lunch in the heavily panelled boardroom, with some other favoured customer. Light City gossip and excellent port, he remembered, when his father had taken him to be introduced to Brian Anderson, the old manager. Now, since the small private bank had been taken over by a much larger one, there was a new manager whom he had met only once, and who had seemed indifferent to the long connection the Cazalet family had previously enjoyed with it. He met them in the boardroom.

‘Ian Mallinson,’ he said, as he entered the room. He had a long, cadaverous face, and when he shook hands with them, his bony fingers were cold. He was accompanied by a secretary and a second man, both of whom were carrying sheaves of papers. He glanced at his watch as he sat down. ‘I think we should start with what you have come to see us about,’ he said.

Hugh glanced at Edward, who intimated that he should begin.

Hugh explained that although their London wharves were doing quite well, yielding a reasonable profit, they were still struggling with Southampton, where they were not able to buy as much hardwood as they would like, with the consequence that the sawmills were left without enough material to cut. The site, with its mills, had been bought at a very good price by his father, but they had not yet been able to operate at full capacity, and therefore were not yielding the profit expected. In short they were in debt and needed a further loan to get on their feet. For one year only.

‘And how much money are you asking for?’

Hugh named the sum; his mouth was dry. Spoken baldly, it seemed enormous.

‘And your collateral?’

‘As I’m sure you know, the firm owns a very great deal of valuable property, both here in London and in Southampton.’

Mallinson told his secretary that he required one of her pieces of paper, which he perused in silence. ‘Unfortunately, Mr Cazalet, it would seem that you have no free collateral left. It has already been pledged to earlier loans that have not yet been paid off. You are therefore not in a position to offer us any security at all for the money you now want. Coffee, please, Miss Chambers.’

While this was being arranged, he turned to Edward. ‘Mr Edward Cazalet, isn’t it? I should be interested to hear your views on the subject.’

‘My view is, and has been for some time, that we should sell off some of the property – probably Southampton – pay off the loans and run a smaller company in London.’ He did not look at Hugh as he said this, which, in any case, was only half of the truth: he was dead set on the firm going public, but it did not seem sensible to say that now.

Mallinson eyed him with some approval. ‘That may certainly become a solution.’

The coffee arrived and was served by Miss Chambers. Mallinson indicated that he wanted a document from the other attendant, and smiled. ‘Our accountants have been analysing your firm’s tax papers, and although the London side of your business has not made any losses, for some time the profits have been less each year. Not a very good outlook.’

If that’s a smile, Hugh thought, I’m a crocodile.

‘There are also dates for repayment of earlier loans, only one of which has been honoured. So I am sure you will understand, gentlemen, that no further loan can be contemplated.’ He looked at his watch again. ‘And now, if you will forgive me, I have another appointment. Miss Chambers will see you out.’

And that was that. They had both been staring at their untouched coffee, and now got up to follow Miss Chambers out of the boardroom and out of the bank.

Edward was the first to speak. ‘I’m sorry, old boy, but I had to say what I think. Otherwise, in my view, we’re heading for a first-class disaster.’ He then suggested they go to a pub, and Hugh, who was clearly in a state of shock, agreed, providing it was a quiet one, out of the City where employees would shortly be flocking for their lunch break.

Half an hour later they were ensconced in a dim cavern that contained only one other customer, immersed in his racing paper. After Edward had got their drinks, he said, ‘I do know how much you hate all this, but supposing we start by considering the pros and cons of getting rid of Southampton? Or, if you like, you state the cons and I’ll do likewise with the pros.’

‘I certainly want to say why I think we should hang onto it. First, our father bought the site at a very reasonable price. It must be worth far more now than he paid for it. Second, Cazalets’ has the largest collection of hardwoods in the business. Third, the hardwoods – most of them – are shipped to Southampton. If we didn’t have a sawmill there, we would have to go to all the trouble and expense of moving the logs to London. Fourth, that side of our business has been failing because we haven’t had the right manager. Teddy hasn’t enough experience. If we put Rupert in there—’

But here Edward felt obliged to interrupt him: ‘My dear Hugh, you know as well as I do that Rupe would be hopeless as a manager – of anything. He has his talents – marvellous with people, the men love him and not a bad salesman – but actually running something? No. Simply being called Cazalet may once have been enough, but it isn’t any more. He’s far more use in London, and the only thing wrong with McIver, who has been with us for at least twenty-five years, is that he isn’t called Cazalet. Can I have my turn now?’

‘Go ahead.’

‘Well, one of the reasons we’re doing so badly is that we’re crippled by the interest we’re paying on existing loans. Did you realise that when we default on our repayments the interest is immediately increased? No? Well, it is. My view is that we have to sell some of our assets in order to get rid of the interest burden. We should get rid of our very expensive London office and rent somewhere far cheaper – in fact, we should try to cut our overheads in every direction . . .’

EDWARD AND DIANA

‘But I don’t think it made a blind bit of difference. Thanks, sweetie, I could certainly do with a stiff one.’

‘Poor old boy. What did he say about your idea of selling out – going public, isn’t it called?’

‘We didn’t even get that far. I was trying to get him to agree to selling off some of our property. He doesn’t even want to do that. Although, once I’ve really gone through the figures with him, I think he’ll have to agree to it.’

Honey padded up to him, and laid an ice-cold nose in his hand. He stroked her absently until she made it clear that she intended jumping onto his lap. ‘No, Honey,
no
.’ She got down at once and gazed at him with loving, reproachful eyes.

‘Oh, well, I suppose you’ll just have to have another go at him. Dinner now.’ She had been going to tell him about an author friend of hers whose publishers had recently sold their firm to Americans, and after a luxurious breakfast at the Connaught Hotel, the two partners had left with six and a half million each, but this didn’t seem to be the right moment.

JEMIMA AND HUGH

‘I think he thinks that I’m simply full of nostalgia and sentiment, and while some of that must come into it, it’s not all I’m fighting for.’

‘Take off your tie, darling. I’m going to massage your neck.’

‘I ought to ring Rachel – make sure she’s all right.’