Inherit the Skies

by Janet Tanner

  Sarah smiled. ‘She was under orders. My granddaughter can be quite bossy, you know. Is David in this morning?’

  ‘Yes. He’s been down here once already enquiring after you and I told him I didn’t think we would be seeing you this week at least.’

  ‘Oh did you?’ Sarah said amused and thought: perhaps it is not only Kirsty who can be bossy – perhaps it is the entire younger generation!

  ‘Shall I let him know you are here now?’ Jenny asked. ‘ Or shall I stall him again?’

  Sarah considered. She had not wanted to face Guy yet but David was a different matter. His similarity to Gilbert had made her warm towards him and besides after what had happened she felt she owed it to him to treat him with complete honesty. ‘Very well, Jenny,’ she said. ‘I’ll see David, but no-one else. You may as well call him now and he can share my coffee.’

  The girl departed and Sarah returned to reading through a pile of messages. But she was unable to concentrate on any of them. How on earth can I close the files on a lifetime’s work? she wondered edgily.

  A few moments later she heard footsteps in the corridor, followed by a knock at the door.

  ‘Come in,’ she called.

  It was, of course, David – a David who resembled Gilbert more closely than ever this morning, dressed as he was in a well-cut dark suit.

  ‘David!’ she greeted him. ‘Come in. My dear, I did not have the chance to tell you the other night how dreadfully sorry I am about your grandmother.’

  He nodded. He looked drawn yet strong. Thank God for the young, she thought.

  ‘It was a shock, it’s true. Grandmother has always seemed so fit. It just goes to show, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It does indeed.’ Jenny had provided another cup and she offered it to him. ‘Have any funeral arrangements been made yet?’

  ‘Yes, Dad is dealing with those. A small private funeral next week to be followed by a memorial service later.’

  ‘That is much the best,’ Sarah approved. It’s what I would prefer, certainly, when my time comes. A service to celebrate my life rather than one to mourn my death. If there is anyone to mourn,’ she added with a touch of her old wry humour.

  David said nothing but his face remained grave. This has all been a terrible shock for him, Sarah thought, and I believe he was genuinely fond of Alicia.

  ‘It is a difficult time, David,’ she said sympathetically. ‘And of course it is not made any easier by the problems with the business. Terrible though it is to say it I am afraid your grandmother’s death carries far greater implications than simply losing someone you love. It also means presumably that your father has the control of Morse Bailey that he wanted. The merger, as he called it, is certain to go through.’

  ‘No,’ David said.

  She set down her cup, a small frown puckering between her eyes.

  ‘What do you mean, no?’

  ‘I mean the merger will not be going through.’

  ‘But – why not?’ Sarah asked, puzzled. ‘He was so set on it.’

  ‘And still is for all I know.’ David thrust his hands into his pockets, looking at her directly. ‘It is no longer up to Dad though.’

  Sarah had begun to tremble. She pressed her hands tightly together.

  ‘Why, David? Why is it no longer up to him?’

  A tiny smile lifted one corner of David’s mouth.

  ‘Because it is up to me. I have been trying to get hold of you since yesterday afternoon. She did not leave her shares in the company to Dad. She left them to me.’

  ‘What?’ Sarah could scarcely believe her ears. ‘She left them to you?

  He nodded. ‘I haven’t taken it in yet, either. Naturally we all thought that Dad would be her heir and so he was – until last Monday afternoon. Apparently Grandmother summoned her solicitor to her hotel suite and changed her will in my favour. It seems she totally disapproved of what Dad proposed and wanted to make sure he did not gain control of Morse Bailey.’

  ‘But why didn’t she tell anyone?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘I think she intended to tell us on Tuesday evening. Do you remember she said something about having had a reason for asking me to be present? I think she was coming to it. But she … well, she collapsed before she could say anything.’

  Sarah touched her fingers to her lips. They felt deathly cold.

  ‘This is yet another shock, David – but I must confess a very welcome one. I take it you are still with us – you are against the merger?’

  ‘Even if I weren’t I would make sure Grandmother’s wishes were adhered to. I regard what she has done as a very special trust. I don’t know what I have done to deserve it but I can promise you I mean to make quite sure I don’t let her down.’

  ‘Oh David …’ Tears were pricking at Sarah’s eyes. I could tell you, she thought – I could tell you why I am sure Alicia trusted you, but it would only sound like empty flattery.

  ‘So you see you need not worry any more,’ he was saying. ‘That is what I wanted you to know.’

  She could not reply. Her throat was aching. Then another thought struck her.

  ‘David – suppose your father contests the will?’

  ‘I don’t think he will. He won’t risk a family rift. Besides on what grounds could he contest? Grandmother was quite obviously in possession of all her faculties – more than most, I’d say. And he hasn’t been cut out entirely. Her house in London and what little money that wretched second husband of hers left to her all go to him. It’s just the voting shares that come to me. And I know what I have to do with them.’

  Sarah nodded. Her heart was full. She held out her hands to him and her eyes sparkled, bright with unshed tears.

  ‘David,’ she said softly, ‘I know she would be proud of you.’

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Alicia was laid to rest in the churchyard at Chewton Leigh, a stone’s throw from the house where she had been born and the fields where she had galloped so long ago on her beloved Baron. It was a cold grey March day and the mourners shivered slightly and huddled into their coats as they stood around the graveside watching her coffin lowered into the dank Somerset earth.

  ‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust …’

  No, thought Sarah, whatever our differences Alicia will never be dust and ashes to me. She was always too vibrant, too alive, even to the end, and if she was sometimes spiteful and scheming then, God knows, so do we all have our faults and Alicia paid dear for hers.

  She glanced up from the coffin, looking at the other mourners. Max was there, frail now and coughing a little in the biting wind, leaning heavily on the arm of his second wife, whom he had married some ten years after the death of Annie, and who had borne him two fine daughters. Max had pulled the threads of his life together; when his time came he would be remembered by his family with love and by the public as a genius. Sir Maximillian Hurst – who would have thought the Max I knew would one day be a Sir? she wondered. Then there was Guy, the very epitome of the successful businessman, though the high colour in his cheeks owed more perhaps to the brandy bottle than to the wind, and in some ways he looked like a man with a weight lifted from his shoulders. Whatever his private debt to Leo de Vere at least his loss of power meant that the wicked old man no longer had a hold over him – or if he did he must know it would do no good. Guy would continue as Managing Director but never again would he be in a position to jeopardise the future of Morse Bailey and it looked as if the knowledge had come only as a relief to him. Next to Guy stood her sons, Roderick and Miles, Roderick’s wife, Susan, and Sheila and her husband, Clive. Sheila was the only woman not to be wearing black – she could not spare the time to go shopping for something special, I imagine, thought Sarah, looking at Sheila’s country tweed suit and knee-high brown boots. But who am I to criticise? There are more important things in life than outward appearances.

  Her gaze flickered on. Gwen, David’s sister, perhaps the most fashionable of the party, with her television director boyfriend, then Da
vid, standing beside Kirsty. Sarah’s heart softened with love. Oh Kirsty, my dearest granddaughter. And David – so like Gilbert it makes my heart miss a beat. It is possible … am I hoping too much … that perhaps one day they might …

  The vicar had reached the end of the service. Sarah looked at him, arms raised to bring a blessing to them all, and thought: soon it will be my turn. Soon they will be gathered here to bury me and in all honesty I am not sorry. I have lived my life – and what a life! How can I regret one moment of it? But I am not quite ready yet. Last week when I thought I had to leave Morse Bailey to its fate I might have been. But not now. There are still things I want to do. Oh no, I am not quite ready yet.

  The service over, the mourners began to move away.

  ‘Granny – are you all right?’ That was Kirsty, anxious as always for her welfare, touching her elbow. She nodded.

  ‘Yes, Kirsty.’

  She moved to the edge of the grave. In her hand she held a single white rose. Leaning forward she dropped it in so that it fell on the coffin.

  ‘Goodbye, Alicia. Perhaps we shall be better friends in the next world than we were in this one,’ she whispered silently. ‘And if I caused you pain, my dear, then I am truly sorry. But we stood together in the end, didn’t we? Gilbert would have been proud of us.’

  ‘Granny?’ Kirsty whispered anxiously.

  ‘It’s all right, darling.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘I’ll take your grandmother home.’ Miles’s hand was firm beneath her elbow.

  She let him lead her away across the soft turf. At the gate she turned, looking back, and saw Kirsty and David holding hands. A faint smile touched her lips and she let her gaze flicker over the other graves, well kept and flower-decked, where her loved ones slept.

  ‘You were right, Adam,’ she said softly. ‘ You were right. We did indeed inherit the skies.’

  Copyright

  First published in 1989 by Century

  This edition published 2014 by Bello

  an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited

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  ISBN 978-1-4472-6636-5 EPUB

  ISBN 978-1-4472-7042-3 HB

  ISBN 978-1-4472-6635-8 PB

  Copyright © Janet Tanner, 1989

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