This Was a Man (The Clifton Chronicles #7)(71)

‘I don’t know, is the honest answer. Can you ever be sure how one of your books is shaping up?’

‘No. In the end I leave it to the critics and the public to make that decision.’

‘Then I guess it will be the same for me. So would you be willing to offer an honest opinion on my latest work?’

‘I could try,’ said Harry, hoping he wouldn’t have to dissemble.

‘Then no better time than now,’ said Jessica, grabbing him by the hand and leading him out of the library. ‘It was kind of you to allow me to come down for the summer and see if I could pick up the pieces,’ she added as they climbed the stairs.

‘And have you?’

‘That’s exactly what I’m hoping you’ll tell me,’ said Jessica, as she opened the door to the old playroom and stood aside.

Harry walked tentatively in and looked at row upon row of preliminary drawings scattered across the floor. They didn’t begin to prepare him for the huge canvas that stood on an easel in the centre of the room. He stared at a painting of the Manor House, which he had thought he knew so well. The lawn, the rose garden, the lake, the folly, the vast oaks that led your eye to the horizon. Every colour was wrong, but when put together . . .

When Jessica could bear it no longer she said, ‘Well? Say something, Grandpops.’

‘I only hope my latest book is half as good.’





28


‘BUT IT’S A FAMILY TRADITION,’ insisted Emma.

‘Couldn’t we have a year off?’ mocked Sebastian.

‘Certainly not. I promised your great-grandfather that the family would always spend Christmas together, and on New Year’s Eve we would tell each other our New Year’s resolutions. So who would like to start this year?’

‘My father was even worse,’ said Samantha. ‘He made us write down our resolutions, and a year later we had to read them out to remind everyone what we’d foolishly promised.’

‘I’ve always liked your father,’ said Emma. ‘So why don’t you begin?’

‘By this time next year,’ said Samantha, ‘I will have a job.’

‘But you already have a job,’ said Emma. ‘You’re bringing up the next but one chairman of Farthings Kaufman.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Seb, looking down at his son, who was landing a model of Concorde on the floor. ‘I think he plans to be a test pilot.’

‘Then he’ll have to become chairman of British Airways,’ said Emma.

‘Perhaps he won’t want to be chairman of anything,’ suggested Grace.

‘If you had a choice, Sam,’ said Harry, ‘what job would you like?’

‘I’ve applied for a position at the Courtauld Institute, in their research department. The hours are flexible, and now Jake is going to nursery school, it would be ideal.’

‘For the more practical members of our family,’ said Sebastian, ‘it may interest them to know that employing a nanny will cost more than Sam can hope to earn as a researcher at the Courtauld.’

‘A sensible distribution of wealth,’ said Grace. ‘Two people each doing a job they want to do, and both being rewarded accordingly.’

‘What’s your New Year’s resolution, Aunt Grace?’ asked Sebastian.

‘I’ve decided to take early retirement, and will be leaving the university at the end of the academic year.’

‘Come and join us in the House of Lords,’ said Giles. ‘We could do with your wisdom and common sense.’

‘Thank you,’ said Grace, ‘but two Barringtons in the Upper House is quite enough. In any case, like Samantha, I’m also looking for another job.’

‘Dare one ask what?’ asked Harry.

‘I’ve applied for a teaching post at a local comprehensive, in the hope that I can help some bright young girls get into Cambridge, who might not otherwise have considered it possible.’

‘Why not boys?’ demanded Giles.

‘There are quite enough of them at Cambridge already.’

‘You put us all to shame, Aunt Grace,’ said Sebastian.

‘So what do you have planned for this year, Seb?’ retorted Grace. ‘Other than making more and more money?’

‘Let’s hope you’re right, because frankly that’s what my customers, of which you’re one, will be expecting me to do.’

‘Touché,’ said Emma.

‘Your turn, Jessica,’ said Grace. ‘I hope you plan to do something more worthwhile than chairing a bank.’

No one needed to be reminded of Jessica’s resolution a year ago: to be worthy of my great-aunt’s belief in me, and to make the best of being given a second chance.

‘I’m determined to win a scholarship to the Royal Academy Schools.’

‘Bravo,’ said Emma.

‘Not good enough,’ said Grace. ‘We all know you’re going to achieve that. Raise the bar, young lady.’

Jessica hesitated for a moment, before she said, ‘I’ll win the Founder’s Prize.’

‘That’s more like it,’ said Grace. ‘And we’ll all be present when you accept the award.’

‘Your turn, Mama,’ said Sebastian, coming to the rescue of his daughter.