Kay stooped over him.
‘Do you not know me?’ she whispered, her voice rustling like paper.
He tried to nod, but his head was too light.
‘I’ve come from Ireland to see you.’
He tried again but the thick, soupy substance in his chest choked him. He coughed, weakly now, for there was no blood left to bring up. Lilias appeared, her elongated face; her elongated long fingers held the cotton to his mouth. He let the substance slip from his tongue to his lips, felt her lift it away.
‘Forbes is here too,’ Kay said. ‘Do you not want to talk to Forbes?’
They had all come to bid him farewell. Lilias had eked them into his bedroom, though whether they had come in daylight or in the dark he did not know, for daylight and darkness were all the same to him. Even the halo of the candle that Lilias lit when she sat by him did not seem bright enough to let him see all that he wanted to see. They came, concerned and kindly, to usher him out of their lives. He supposed that he enjoyed their tears, their murmured lamentations, all the little songs they sang to him, rocking on the edge of his bed: Martin and Pansy, Johnny and Ross. Cissie weeping, Mercy too: all his children’s children gathered in a solemn rank that he could not see the end of.
‘Do you have something to say to Forbes?’ Kay whispered.
He had seen Forbes. He had seen Tom. Lindsay with Arthur, his best son, standing by her shoulder. He had seen all the little boys and girls who had been brought to him for the last time but that he could not quite identify by name now, little girls and boys who already existed in a different dimension, who were already so very far away.
Kay touched him urgently. ‘Daddy, speak to me.’
Lilias tugged her back.
‘For heaven’s sake, Kay, leave him be. He can’t hear you.’
‘He hears me,’ Kay said. ‘Don’t you, Dadda?’
He had forgiven his rebellious daughters long ago. There had never been much difference between them and he understood better than anyone the nature of their folly. Only Arthur, his best son, remembered the squabbles and could not forgive and forget. He should reply to his daughter, tell Kay something. He tried to raise his hand but lost interest before it left the blanket. He was overcome by a need to sleep. Strange. He felt himself growing strong again, very strong in the light of the day. And yet he needed to sleep. Strange. Strange.
‘Look, Daddy, Forbes is here. Forbes, speak to…’
Her voice faded.
Owen heard nothing but the beat of his heart, then that, too, stopped.
* * *
Lindsay was less stricken than she had imagined she would be. Somehow she had always known that Pappy would not be with them for ever. With Nanny she had had, as it were, practice in facing up to the fact of death: perhaps that was the reason why, when the telephone rang in the hallway of the house in Brunswick Crescent and Forbes told her it was all over, she felt nothing but relief. If Pappy had died eight years ago, or ten, then everything that he had once been would have remained and she would have been stunned by his absence and lost without him. But that man had gone long since, had commenced the process of change and separation on the morning when he had divided the partnership among them and had gracefully bowed out.
For days she waited for grief to strike but it did not, not greatly. The funeral was a vast and solemn service at St Anne’s. The burial, which Lindsay did not, of course, attend was followed by a luncheon for sixty invited guests in the upstairs room at the Barbary. That in turn was followed by a family dinner at Harper’s Hill in the evening and throughout it all there was an air of communal participation, of sharing, that somehow dissipated her grief.
On that evening in Harper’s Hill they were as they had once been: the Franklins, their wives and husbands, the whole family together, dining together, chattering, laughing at tales of Pappy’s mischief; and the past became all of a piece. Whatever was in Donald, in Arthur, in Lilias and Kay that their children could not share remained hidden. Only the platitudes held true: Pappy would have loved it, Pappy would have had fun, Pappy would have urged them to eat more, drink more, to sing a song or two to please him; which is just what they did, all of them, unforced, ungrudgingly, singing all the songs, sad and jolly, that Owen in his lifetime had loved.
Later that night in bed, Forbes made love to her, fast and greedy and demanding love, a charmless act to which Lindsay yielded because, in her imagination, she was not with Forbes at all.
* * *
Four days later Geoffrey turned up at the door in Brunswick Crescent and Lindsay in person admitted him to the house.
‘I didn’t quite know what to do,’ Geoffrey began. ‘I attended the service, of course, but I wasn’t sure whether to write or not. I was at rather a loss, to be truthful. I didn’t want you to think, Lindsay, that I didn’t care.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘I know that.’
‘It seemed wrong to impose at such a time.’
‘I’m glad to see you,’ she said.
‘Truly?’ Geoffrey said. ‘I’m not intruding?’
‘Of course not,’ Lindsay said.
‘I know from what you’ve told me that he meant a great deal to you.’
‘Not just to me,’ Lindsay said.
‘That much was apparent from the turnout at church. I’ve never seen such a vast gathering,’ Geoffrey said. ‘Thousands. More, I believe, than turned out for Admiral Hattersfield’s funeral last year at Devonport.’
Lindsay laughed. ‘Pappy would have been flattered to hear it.’
‘You don’t seem particularly – how do I put this? – upset.’
‘No, I’m not,’ Lindsay said. ‘My grandfather was eighty-two years old, you know. All the stuff and nonsense that’s talked about aged people – he had a good innings, that sort of thing – turns out not to be stuff and nonsense at all. It’s true. He did have a good innings. How can I regret that Pappy has gone when he left so much of himself behind, so much that was good.’
‘Well,’ Geoffrey said, ‘I’d still like to offer my condolences.’
‘Thank you,’ Lindsay said.
‘I – I won’t stay.’
‘No, please do,’ Lindsay said.
He looked around the parlour, at the half-drawn curtains that signified a family in mourning, at the deep slats of April sunlight that caught and held fine motes of dust above the Indian carpet, at the piano, the bright fire in the grate.
‘Is Miss Runciman not with us?’ he asked.
‘She has gone out this afternoon with my father.’
‘With your father?’
‘To buy linen, bed linen.’
‘They shop together?’
‘Why not?’ Lindsay said. ‘What’s so shocking about that? I may not be terribly affected by what’s happened but my father certainly is. Miss Runciman will persuade him to take her to tea in one of the warehouses and will listen to him prattle on about my grandfather and his sister, Kay. Eleanor will offer him comfort. It may not seem proper to you, but Eleanor Runciman is more than just a housekeeper; she is also a very good friend.’
‘Ah, well, I do know something about friendship,’ Geoffrey said.
‘I don’t think my father and Eleanor Runciman have ever kissed, though,’ Lindsay said. ‘Perhaps they will one day.’
‘Will it matter whether they do or not?’
‘Probably not,’ Lindsay said. ‘She loves him, I think, and he’s very fond of her and that’s all that counts in the long run.’
‘If you were in Miss Runciman’s position would that be enough for you?’
‘No,’ Lindsay said.
‘No?’
‘I should want to be kissed.’
‘Like this?’ he said.
‘Yes,’ Lindsay said, ‘just like that,’ and drew back only a moment before Blossom flung open the door and Aunt Kay stalked into the room.
* * *
‘Is that the chap Winn’s been telling me about?’ Kay said. ‘Is that the chap who�
��s trying to steal her away from you?’
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ Forbes told his mother. ‘Myself, I think Paget’s just out for a bit of a lark.’
‘Then you’re more of a fool than I took you for.’
‘Linnet won’t give in to him,’ Forbes said. ‘She knows where her best interests lie – and that’s right here with me.’
‘If she’s had her head turned by this sailor,’ Kay said, ‘she won’t know or care where her best interests lie. There’s no reasoning with a woman when she thinks she’s fallen in love.’
‘Mother, for God’s sake,’ Forbes said, ‘you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. Lindsay would never abandon the children and I’m damned sure friend Paget won’t want to sail off into the sunset with another man’s brats in tow. Besides – if you’ll excuse me – it’s really none of your concern.’
‘Aye, but it is, son,’ Kay said. ‘It’s very much my concern.’
‘You’re still determined to come back to Glasgow?’
‘Of course I am.’
‘What’s stopping you?’ Forbes said. ‘I have ample room for you here.’
‘She’ll not be abandoning the others,’ Winn said.
‘She’ll abandon Dadda quick enough,’ Blossom said, ‘but she’ll not let the children stay behind unless they want to.’
‘Well, I can’t take them all in,’ Forbes said. ‘One more – Charlie, say, or Rena – but no more. I mean, if you want to move the lot to Glasgow I’ve funds enough to provide them with board and lodging for a week or two and perhaps I might even be able to find them jobs but you can’t expect me to provide for them all indefinitely.’
‘Charlie won’t leave,’ Winn said.
‘And Babs is for marrying, soon as she can,’ said Blossom.
‘And young Peter,’ Kay put in, ‘is his father’s boy.’
‘Peter’s what age?’ said Forbes.
‘Seventeen,’ said Blossom.
‘He’s gone into the brewery,’ said Winn. ‘The brewery will be his.’
‘How bad are things financially?’ Forbes asked.
‘Worse than ever,’ Kay told him.
They were seated in the downstairs drawing-room, huddled about the elegant fireplace as if they were peasants unused to spacious interiors. Daniel McCulloch’s house in Malahide was not much smaller than the Franklins’ house in Brunswick Park but neglect and lack of cash had given it a ramshackle air.
‘Is Dadda still involved with the Fellowship?’ Forbes enquired.
‘He is supporting the Fellowship just about single-handed. There is nothing I can say to stop him throwing good money after bad,’ Kay said. ‘He would be having us all working for the blessed Fellowship if he could manage it. He won’t even employ a hand now who doesn’t subscribe to the Fellowship of Erin. Catholic or Protestant, that has never been an issue with your daddy. It has always been the fight, the struggle, the politics of it that’s consumed him. I tell you, son,’ Kay went on, ‘I wish he had been addicted to drink instead of politics. I could have coped with the drink better than I can with the Fellowship.’
‘I take it,’ Forbes said, ‘he still has the horses?’
‘A few,’ Kay said. ‘I don’t object to the horses. You can understand an Irishman’s love of horseflesh. But the other thing, the Fellowship of Erin thing, that’s beyond my comprehension.’
‘Is Peter with him in this too?’ said Forbes.
‘Aye, and Charlie,’ Kay said. ‘It’s too late. We’ve lost them already.’
Leaning forward in her chair, Blossom patted her brother’s knee. ‘You are well out of it, Forbes. The best thing Mam ever did was getting you out of it before you were old enough to be snared.’
‘Didn’t you know what Dadda was like before you ran off with him?’ Forbes asked.
‘God now, and how could I know? He didn’t talk about politics. He talked about love. It was never love, though, not with him. Marrying me was just another form of politics. Oh, he was charm itself in those early days, as decent a man on the surface as you could ever hope to meet. How was I to know that he would be spending half his time with the horses and half his time with the Fellowship, though it didn’t call itself that in those days, and that there would be precious little left for me?’
‘If he had devoted as much time and effort to the brewery as he put into the Fellowship then we would all of us be dressed up like lords and ladies and be living in fine houses in Grafton Street,’ Winn said.
‘I doubt that,’ Forbes said. ‘Dadda was lazy to begin with. He needed an excuse for doing as little as possible and the Fellowship provided it. It’s not politics, believe me, not real genuine politics.’
‘Thanks to God you’re not like him,’ Winn said, patting her brother’s knee in turn. ‘It’s a fine thing you’ve done, Forbes, making so much of yourself that you can take on the burden for the rest of us.’
‘Not all,’ said Forbes hastily. ‘You and Mam, but not all of them.’
‘You mustn’t let this foolish nonsense with the sailor and your wife distract you,’ Kay said. ‘It will be a flirtation and it will blow itself out when he goes back to sea and he finds some other man’s wife to have his fun with.’
Forbes kept his doubts to himself. ‘Paget’s a shore officer. He works under Fisher, the First Sea Lord, and has the ear of the purchasing and commissioning committees. In other words, Mam, I can’t punch the bastard’s nose and get away with it, not if I want to keep navy contracts rolling in.’
‘I understand that,’ Kay said impatiently. ‘But with your grandfather gone, there will surely be more opportunity for you to make your mark.’
‘Perhaps,’ Forbes said. ‘We’ll have to await the reading of Pappy’s will to find out how the firm’s been divided and just how much will come to us.’
‘Us?’ said Winn.
‘Lindsay and me,’ Forbes said.
‘Lindsay’s a bitch out of hell to put you through this, Forbes. I mean the stuff with the sailor,’ Blossom said. ‘I can’t think what she could want from marriage more than you have given her.’
‘Selfish.’ Winn nodded. ‘That’s what she is, born selfish. It’s not for me to speak ill of the dead but that old man has much to answer for.’
‘He did not spoil us, did he?’ Blossom said.
‘He did not care what happened to us,’ said Winn. ‘When I look at poor Gowry in his uniform, I could weep. He should have been a gentleman, not a motoring-car driver.’
Aware that her daughters were leading the conversation on to very thin ice, Kay intervened. ‘Lindsay’s as flighty as her father but she has a mind of her own, so let her have her fling until you find out what’s gone to her, then, son, you can rein her in again.’
‘Rein her in?’ said Forbes. ‘How?’
‘Give her something to think about besides making eyes at sailors.’
‘What, for instance?’ Forbes asked.
‘More babies,’ his mother told him.
‘Lots more babies,’ said Blossom.
‘Really?’ Forbes said. ‘Will that do it?’
‘Aye, son,’ his mother assured him. ‘That will do it, every time.’
* * *
The disposal of Owen Franklin’s assets was undoubtedly complicated by the diversity of his holdings but Pappy had spent the best part of a week with Messrs Harrington and Gammon up at Strathmore revising earlier wills and drafting fresh instructions which, with the lawyers’ aid, left everything nicely cut and dried. Even after payment of death duties there was a considerable sum left in addition to principal property.
The effect of Owen’s death on Franklin’s was almost indetectable. He had had the foresight to make clear separation between personal and partnership holdings some years ago and had retained only a portion of interest in the family firm. It was, however, this portion that excited Forbes’s interest, for he was still, more than ever, hungry for recognition and the power that went with it. Lindsay, however, had no expectat
ion of gain and was soon rather bored by the more formal part of the proceedings.
Outside, a sharp late April sun shone on the terraces above Kelvingrove. From her chair in the drawing-room, where the reading was taking place, Lindsay could just make out the leaves beginning to unfurl on the tops of the trees. She felt oddly relaxed and unthreatened now that her grandfather was no longer present. He seemed to be everywhere, though, yet nowhere.
The house on Harper’s Hill would not change greatly. Giles would be replaced by a younger man, Cook might decide to retire and, in course of time, most of the bedrooms would become empty, for her cousins were already going out into the world to marry and bear children and establish homes of their own. To Martin’s children, and Mercy’s, to Harry and Philip and little Ewan Calder, Pappy would not even be a memory. On the oceans of the world, however, in distant ports and in harbours tucked into the great brown rivers that ran through faraway continents, the boats that Pappy had built would endure. Some day, perhaps, she would see the Covenant or the Commonwealth, the Liberty or the Cormorant nosing up the Clyde again and would point it out to Harry or Philip and tell him that her grandfather had built it and hope that her sons would understand just what his legacy meant to them all.
Meanwhile, the disposal of Pappy’s assets continued.
Harper’s Hill went to Donald. Cash sums equal to the value of the property went to Arthur and Kay. Pensions were left for Owen’s cook and housekeeper. The trusty Giles received a lump sum sufficient to allow him to retire in comfort. The lease on the Perthshire retreat had been terminated by payment of a year’s rent and personal items brought down from Strathmore were now stored in Harper’s Hill. Objects of sentimental worth, in addition to books, paintings and private papers, would be divided between the three surviving children, each of whom might have what he or she wished; any disagreements to be settled by Mr Harrington.
By her side, Lindsay felt her husband stiffen.
‘As to the partnership, the shareholding of a sixth of the sixty-fourth part has been transferred by previous deed to Mr Thomas Calder, my grand son-in-law, whereby interest, right and property passes…’
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