Only Time Will Tell (The Clifton Chronicles, #1)(57)

‘Just tell me the numbers, sir, don’t write them down.’





23


‘WERE YOU THINKING OF attending Master Giles’s birthday party?’ asked Miss Potts.

Hugo looked at his diary. Giles, 12th birthday, 3 p.m., Manor House was written in bold letters at the top of the page.

‘Do I have time to pick up a present on the way home?’

Miss Potts left the room, and returned a moment later carrying a large parcel wrapped in shiny red paper and tied with a ribbon.

‘What’s inside?’ asked Hugo.

‘The latest Roberts radio; the one he asked for when you visited him in the san last month.’

‘Thank you, Miss Potts,’ said Hugo. He checked his watch. ‘I’d better leave now if I’m going to be in time to see him cut the cake.’

Miss Potts placed a thick file in his briefcase and before he could ask, she said, ‘Your background notes for tomorrow morning’s board meeting. You can go over them after Master Giles has returned to St Bede’s. That way there will be no need for you to come back this evening.’

‘Thank you, Miss Potts,’ said Hugo. ‘You think of everything.’

As he drove through the city on his way home, Hugo couldn’t help noticing how many more cars there seemed to be on the highway than there had been a year ago. Pedestrians were becoming more wary of casually crossing the road since the government had increased the speed limit to 30 miles per hour. A horse reared up as Hugo shot past a hansom cab. He wondered how much longer they could hope to survive now that the city council had authorized its first taxi cab.

Once he had driven out of the city, Hugo sped up, not wanting to be late for his son’s party. How quickly the boy was growing. He was already taller than his mother. Would he end up taller than his father?

When Giles left St Bede’s and took up his place at Eton in a year’s time, Hugo felt confident that his friendship with the Clifton boy would soon be forgotten, although he realized there were other difficulties that needed to be addressed before then.

He slowed down as he passed through the gates of his estate. He always enjoyed the long drive through the avenue of oaks up to the Manor House. Jenkins was standing on the top step as Hugo got out of the car. He held open the front door and said, ‘Mrs Barrington is in the drawing room sir, with Master Giles and two of his school friends.’

As he walked into the hall, Emma came running down the stairs and threw her arms around her father.

‘What’s in the parcel?’ she demanded.

‘A birthday present for your brother.’

‘Yes, but what is it?’

‘You’ll have to wait and see, young lady,’ said her father with a smile before he handed his briefcase to the butler. ‘Would you put that in my study, Jenkins,’ he said as Emma grabbed him by the hand and began to tug him towards the drawing room.

Hugo’s smile evaporated the moment he opened the door and saw who was sitting on the sofa.

Giles leapt up and ran towards his father, who handed him the parcel and said, ‘Happy birthday, my boy.’

‘Thank you, Papa,’ he said, before introducing his friends.

Hugo shook Deakins’s hand, but when Harry offered his, he just said, ‘Good afternoon, Clifton,’ and sat down in his favourite chair.

Hugo watched with interest as Giles undid the ribbon on his parcel and they both saw the present for the first time. Even his son’s unbridled delight with his new radio didn’t bring a smile to Hugo’s lips. He had a question that he needed to ask Clifton, but it mustn’t appear as if the boy’s reply was of any significance.

He remained silent while the three boys took turns tuning into the two stations and listening intently to the strange voices and music that came out of the speaker. This was regularly followed by laughter or applause.

Mrs Barrington chatted to Harry about a recent concert of the Messiah she’d attended, adding how much she’d enjoyed his rendition of I Know That My Redeemer Liveth.

‘Thank you, Mrs Barrington,’ said Harry.

‘Are you hoping to go on to Bristol Grammar School after you leave St Bede’s, Clifton?’ asked Hugo, spotting an opening.

‘Only if I win a scholarship, sir,’ he replied.

‘But why is that important?’ asked Mrs Barrington. ‘Surely you will be offered a place, like any other boy?’

‘Because my mother wouldn’t be able to afford the fees, Mrs Barrington. She’s a waitress at the Royal Hotel.’

‘But wouldn’t your father—’

‘He’s dead,’ said Harry. ‘He was killed in the war.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Mrs Barrington. ‘I didn’t realize.’

At that moment the door opened and the under-butler entered the room carrying a large cake on a silver tray. After Giles had succeeded in blowing out all twelve candles with one puff, everyone applauded.

‘And when’s your birthday, Clifton?’ asked Hugo.

‘It was last month, sir,’ Harry replied.

After Giles had cut the cake, Hugo stood up and left the room without another word.

He went straight to his study, but found he couldn’t concentrate on his papers for the next day’s board meeting. Clifton’s reply meant he would have to seek advice from a lawyer who specialized in the law of heredity.