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If he had one disappointment in life, it was his son, Arnold. The lad had done well at Leeds Grammar School, but had then rebelled, accepting a place at Oxford rather than the scholarship he’d been offered at Leeds University. And worse, the boy didn’t want to join his father at Farthings, preferring to train as a barrister—in London. This meant Cedric had no one to hand the bank on to.
For the first time in his life, he considered a takeover bid, from the Midland. They offered him a sum of money that would have allowed him to spend the rest of his life playing golf on the Costa del Sol, donning slippers, drinking Horlicks and being tucked up in bed by ten. But what no one except Beryl seemed to understand about Cedric Hardcastle was that banking was not only his job, it was his hobby, and as long as he had a majority shareholding in Farthings, the golf, the slippers and the Horlicks could wait for a few more years. He told his wife he’d prefer to pop his clogs sitting at his desk rather than on the eighteenth tee.
As it turned out, he nearly popped his clogs on the way back to Yorkshire one evening. But even Cedric could not have ant
icipated just how much his life would change when he became involved in a car accident on the A1 late on a Friday night. He was exhausted following a series of lengthy meetings at the bank’s head office in the City and should have stayed at his flat in London overnight. But he always preferred to travel up to Huddersfield and spend the weekend with Beryl. He fell asleep at the wheel, and the next thing he remembered was waking up in hospital with both his legs in plaster; the only thing he had in common with the young man in the next bed.
Sebastian Clifton was everything Cedric disapproved of. He was a stuck-up southerner, disrespectful, lacked discipline, had opinions on everything and, worse, seemed to assume that the world owed him a living. Cedric immediately asked Matron if he could be moved to another ward. Miss Puddicombe refused his request, but pointed out that there were two private rooms available. Cedric stayed put; he didn’t waste brass.
During the weeks that followed his imprisonment, Cedric couldn’t be sure which of them became the greater influence on the other. To begin with, the boy’s endless questions about banking got on his nerves, until he eventually gave in and reluctantly became his surrogate tutor. When Matron asked, he was forced to admit that not only was the boy extremely bright, but you never had to tell him anything twice.
“Aren’t you glad I didn’t move you?” she teased.
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” said Cedric.
There were two added bonuses to being Sebastian’s tutor. Cedric much enjoyed the weekly visits of his mother and sister; two formidable ladies, both with problems of their own. It didn’t take him long to work out that Jessica couldn’t possibly be Mrs. Clifton’s daughter, and when Sebastian eventually told him the whole story, all he said was, “It’s time someone told her.”
It also became clear to Cedric that Mrs. Clifton was facing some sort of crisis in her family business. Every time she visited her son in hospital, Cedric would turn over and pretend to be asleep, while, with Sebastian’s blessing, he listened to every word that passed between them.
Jessica would often come around to his side of the bed so she could sketch her new model, which meant that Cedric had to keep his eyes closed.
Occasional visits from Sebastian’s father, Harry Clifton, his uncle Giles and his aunt Grace helped Cedric to put more pieces into a colorful jigsaw that was slowly coming together. It wasn’t difficult to work out what Martinez and Fisher were up to, even if he wasn’t sure what motivated them, partly because even Sebastian didn’t seem to know the answer to that question. However, when it came to the vote on whether they should go ahead and build the Buckingham, Cedric felt that Mrs. Clifton’s gut instinct, or what women call intuition, might well turn out to be right. So after checking the company’s by-laws, he advised Sebastian that as his mother controlled 22 percent of the company’s stock, she was entitled to have three representatives on the board, which should be more than enough to stop the proposal going ahead. Mrs. Clifton didn’t take his advice, and lost the motion by one vote.
The following day, Cedric purchased ten shares in Barrington Shipping, so they could follow the regular deliberations of the board. It only took Cedric a few weeks to work out that Fisher was setting himself up to be the next chairman. If Ross Buchanan and Mrs. Clifton shared a common weakness, it was their naïve belief that everyone would abide by their own moral standards. It was just a pity that Major Fisher had no standards, and Don Pedro Martinez no morals.
Cedric regularly scoured the Financial Times and the Economist in search of any information on why Barrington’s shares were in free-fall. If, as one article in the Daily Express suggested, the IRA was involved, then Martinez had to be the link. What Cedric couldn’t understand was why Fisher was so willing to fall in line. Did he need the money that badly? He prepared a list of questions for Sebastian to ask his mother on her weekly visits, and it wasn’t long before he was as well informed about the daily workings of Barrington’s Shipping Company as any member of the board.
By the time Cedric had fully recovered, and was fit enough to be discharged from hospital and return to work, he had made two decisions. The bank would purchase 7.5 percent of Barrington Shipping, the minimum shareholding that would allow him to take a place on the board and vote to decide who should be the next chairman of the company. When he called his broker the following day, he was surprised to discover how many other people were also buying Barrington’s shares, clearly with the same purpose in mind. This meant that Cedric ended up having to pay a little more than he’d bargained for, and although this was contrary to his usual practice, he had to agree with Beryl, he was thoroughly enjoying himself.
After several months as an onlooker, he couldn’t wait to be introduced to Ross Buchanan, Mrs. Clifton, Major Fisher, Admiral Summers et al. However, a second decision he made turned out to be more far-reaching.
Just before Cedric was discharged from hospital, Sebastian had a visit from his supervisor at Cambridge. Mr. Padgett made it clear that if he wished to, he could take up his place at Peterhouse the following September.
One of the first letters Cedric wrote on returning to his desk in the City was to offer Sebastian a holiday job at Farthings Bank before he went up to Cambridge.
* * *
Ross Buchanan stepped out of the cab a few minutes before his appointment with the chairman of Farthings. Waiting for him in the front hall of 127 Threadneedle Street was Mr. Hardcastle’s personal assistant, who escorted him to the chairman’s office on the fifth floor.
Cedric rose from behind his desk as Buchanan entered the room. He shook his guest warmly by the hand, and ushered him to one of the two comfortable chairs by the fireplace. The Yorkshireman and the Scotsman quickly discovered that they shared many common interests, not least their mutual concern for the future of Barrington Shipping.
“I see the share price has picked up a little recently,” said Cedric. “So perhaps things are beginning to settle down.”
“Certainly the IRA seems to have lost interest in harassing the company at every possible turn, which must be a great relief to Emma.”
“Could it simply be that their payments have dried up? After all, Martinez must have invested a considerable sum of money purchasing twenty-two point five percent of the company’s stock, only to fail in his attempt to elect the next chairman.”
“If that’s the case, why doesn’t he cash in his chips and call it a day?”
“Because Martinez is clearly an obstinate man who refuses to admit when he’s beaten, and I certainly don’t think he’s the type to curl up in a corner and lick his wounds. We have to accept that he must be simply biding his time. But biding his time to do what?”
“I don’t know,” said Ross. “The man’s an enigma, and almost impossible to fathom. All I do know is that when it comes to the Barringtons and the Cliftons, it’s personal.”
“That doesn’t come as a surprise, but it might prove to be his downfall in the end. He should remember the mafia’s dictum: when it comes to killing a rival, it must only ever be business, never personal.”
“I hadn’t thought of you as a mafia man.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Ross, Yorkshire was operating a mafia long before the Italians sailed for New York. We don’t kill our rivals, we just don’t allow them to cross the county border.” Ross smiled. “Whenever I come across someone as slippery as Martinez,” continued Cedric, sounding serious again, “I try to put myself in their shoes and work out exactly what they’re trying to achieve. But in Martinez’s case, I’m still missing something. I’d hoped you might be able to fill in the missing pieces.”
