The World According to Bertie

Bruce looked up sharply. “Four?”

Julia’s eyes widened. “Did I say four? Four? I meant three, of course. Daddy, me, daddy. That’s three. That’s what I meant.”

Bruce frowned. “You counted your father twice,” he said. “You mentioned two daddies. You did.”

268 A Confusion of Daddies at the Dinner Table Julia was becoming flustered. “Oh, Brucie, you’re getting me all mixed up. What I meant was you, me, and Daddy. That makes three.”

“I see.”

“And I’m going to cook something really nice,” she said. “And you’ll have the chance to chat with Daddy.”

“About?” asked Bruce casually.

“Anything,” said Julia. “Rugby. Business. Politics. Anything you like. He’s very easy. In fact, you could talk to him about property things. You know a lot about that, being a surveyor and all. Daddy has quite a bit of commercial property.”

Bruce hesitated a moment. “Commercial property?”

“Yes,” said Julia. “You know those shops in Queensferry Street?

He has quite a few there. And George Street too. He has some there.”

“Interesting,” said Bruce.

“Not to me,” Julia said. “I find all that talk of square metres and rents and stuff like that really boring.” She paused.

“Anyway, I’m really glad that you and Daddy are going to get on so well. And now I’m going to go and start to get things ready.”

She left Bruce and went into the kitchen. He stood up and Julia’s Father Comes Straight to the Point 269

walked to the window of the flat, looking down onto Howe Street. He was very comfortable here, and Julia was not all that bad; if she went on, one could simply turn off and let it all wash over. And she was certainly attractive in her dim, rather vacuous sort of way. In fact, she was a real head-turner, now that one came to think of it, and there would be no shame involved in walking into a wine bar with her. A wine bar . . .

There were wine bars in George Street, and she had said that her father had commercial property there. It would be interesting if it turned out that he owned a wine bar. Very interesting.

80. Julia’s Father Comes Straight to the Point Julia ushered her father into the flat. “Every time I come here,” said Graeme Donald, “I find myself thinking – they really understood the need for space, those Georgians. I was in one of those new flats the other day – you know those ones down the road there. Tiny. And quite a price, too. Ridiculously expensive.”

He was a tall, well-built man with an air of easy self-assurance about him. He kissed his daughter on the cheek, almost absentmindedly, and cast a glance towards the open door of the drawing room. “In there?” he whispered. “This young man of yours?”

Julia nodded. “Yes. And you will do what we discussed? Is that all right, Daddy?”

He looked at her. “Is that what you want? Are you sure he’s the one? Because there’ll be plenty of time to be sorry if . . .”

“Believe me, Daddy. We just click. He’s lovely.”

He closed his eyes briefly. “Anything that makes my girl happy.

Anything.”

Julia took him gently by the arm. “Just make sure that he won’t say no,” she said, her voice still low.

270 Julia’s Father Comes Straight to the Point

“Well, as long as he’s reasonably well-disposed, then I think I can make things attractive enough for him.”

“Good.”

They entered the drawing room, where Bruce was sitting by the window. As they entered, he rose and crossed the floor to shake hands with Graeme.

“So you’re Bruce.” Graeme took Bruce’s hand and shook it warmly.

“Sir.”

“Please call me Graeme.”

Julia moved to Bruce’s side and linked her arm in his. “You two will have lots to talk about,” she said, gazing at Bruce.

“Daddy, Bruce used to be a surveyor.”

“Macauley Holmes etc.,” said Bruce.

Graeme nodded. “Good firm. I’ve had dealings with them.

Nice chaps, the Todds.”

“Yes,” said Bruce, less than enthusiastically.

“Why did you leave?” asked Graeme.

Bruce’s answer came readily. “Challenge,” he said. “I needed to get my teeth into something new.”