Best Kept Secret (The Clifton Chronicles, #3)(12)

‘I may not be catching the train to Washington, but I’m afraid I do have to get back to London tonight, Miss Barrington,’ said Professor Feldman after he’d signed the last book. ‘I’m addressing the London School of Economics at ten tomorrow morning, so I can only spare you a few minutes.’

Emma tried not to look disappointed.

‘Unless . . .’ said Feldman.

‘Unless?’

‘Unless you’d like to join me on the journey to London, in which case you’d have my undivided attention for at least a couple of hours.’

Emma hesitated. ‘I’ll have to make a phone call.’

Twenty minutes later, she was sitting in a first-class railway carriage opposite Professor Feldman. He asked the first question.

‘So, Miss Barrington, does your family still own the shipping line that bears their illustrious name?’

‘Yes, my mother owns twenty-two per cent.’

‘That should give the family more than enough control, and that’s all that matters in any organization – as long as no one else gets their hands on more than twenty-two per cent.’

‘My brother Giles doesn’t take a great deal of interest in the company’s affairs. He’s a Member of Parliament and doesn’t even attend the AGM. But I do, professor, which is why I needed to speak to you.’

‘Please call me Cyrus. I’ve reached that age when I don’t want to be reminded by a beautiful young woman just how old I am.’

Grace had been right about one thing, thought Emma, and decided to take advantage of it. She returned his smile before asking, ‘What problems do you envisage for the shipbuilding industry during the next decade? Our new chairman, Sir William Travers—’

‘First-class man. Cunard were foolish to let such an able fellow go,’ interrupted Feldman.

‘Sir William is considering whether we should add a new passenger liner to our fleet.’

‘Madness!’ said Feldman, thumping the seat beside him with a clenched fist, causing a cloud of dust to billow up into the air. Before Emma could ask why, he added, ‘Unless you have a surplus of cash that you need to dispose of, or there are tax advantages for the UK shipping industry that no one’s told me about.’

‘Neither, that I’m aware of,’ said Emma.

‘Then it’s time for you to face the facts. The aeroplane is about to turn passenger ships into floating dinosaurs. Why would any sane person take five days crossing the Atlantic Ocean, when they can do the same journey in eighteen hours by plane?’

‘More relaxing? Fear of flying? You’ll arrive in better shape?’ suggested Emma, recalling Sir William’s words at the AGM.

‘Out of touch and out of date, young lady,’ said Feldman. ‘You’ll have to come up with something better than that if you’re going to convince me. No, the truth is that the modern businessman, and even the more adventurous tourist, wants to cut down on the time it takes to reach their destination, which in a very few years will sink, and I mean sink, the passenger liner business.’

‘And in the long term?’

‘You haven’t got that long.’

‘So what do you recommend we do?’

‘Invest any spare cash you have in building more cargo vessels. Planes will never be able to carry large or heavy items like motor cars, plant machinery or even food.’

‘How do I convince Sir William of that?’

‘Make your position clear at the next board meeting,’ said Feldman, his fist once again banging on the seat.

‘But I’m not on the board.’

‘You’re not on the board?’

‘No, and I can’t see Barrington’s ever appointing a woman director.’

‘They don’t have any choice,’ said Feldman, his voice rising. ‘Your mother owns twenty-two per cent of the company’s stock. You can demand a place on the board.’

‘But I’m not qualified, and a two-hour train journey to London, even if it is with a Pulitzer Prize-winner, isn’t going to solve that problem.’

‘Then it’s time to get qualified.’

‘What do you have in mind?’ asked Emma. ‘Because there isn’t a university in England that I’m aware of that has a business degree on its curriculum.’

‘Then you’ll have to take three years off and join me at Stanford.’

‘I don’t think my husband or my young son would think much of that idea,’ replied Emma, breaking her cover.

This silenced the professor, and it was some time before he said, ‘Can you afford a ten-cent stamp?’

‘Yes,’ said Emma tentatively, not sure what she was letting herself in for.

‘Then I’ll be happy to enrol you as an undergraduate at Stanford in the fall.’

‘But as I explained—’

‘You stated, without reservation, that you could afford a ten-cent stamp.’

Emma nodded.

‘Well, Congress has just passed a bill that will allow American military who are serving overseas to sign up for a business degree without actually having to attend classes in person.’

‘But I’m not an American, and I’m certainly not serving overseas.’

‘True,’ said Feldman, ‘but hidden in the bill’s small print you’ll find, under special exemptions, the word “Allies”, which I’m pretty sure we can take advantage of. That is, assuming you’re serious about the long-term future of your family’s company.’