yelled.
'I'm sorry, I didn't know--'
Hugh intervened. 'There's no harm done,' he said, trying to cool the temperature. He put an arm around Nora's shoulders. 'You were taken by surprise, that's all.' He ushered her out into the hall. 'Come on, everyone, it's time to leave.'
As they left the house he put a hand on Sam's shoulder. 'Now, Sam, I hope you've learned that you must always take care not to frighten ladies.'
'I lost my pet,' Sam said miserably.
'Spiders don't really like living in matchboxes anyway. Perhaps you should have a different kind of pet. What about a canary?'
He brightened immediately. 'Could I?'
'You'd have to make sure it was fed and watered regularly, or it would die.'
'I would, I would!'
'Then we'll look for one tomorrow.'
'Hooray!'
They drove to Kensington Methodist Hall in closed carriages. It was pouring rain. The boys had never been to a funeral. Toby, who was a rather solemn child, said: 'Are we expected to cry?'
Nora said: 'Don't be so stupid.'
Hugh wished she could be more affectionate with the boys. She had been a baby when her own mother died, and he guessed that was why she found it so difficult to mother her own children: she had never learned how. All the same she might try harder, he thought. He said to Toby: 'But you can cry if you feel like it. It's allowed at funerals.'
'I don't think I shall. I didn't love Uncle Joseph very much.'
Sam said: 'I loved Bill the spider.'
Sol, the youngest, said: 'I'm too big to cry.'
Kensington Methodist Hall expressed in stone the ambivalent feelings of prosperous Methodists, who believed in religious simplicity but secretly longed to display their wealth. Although it was called a hall, it was as ornate as any Anglican or Catholic church. There was no altar, but there was a magnificent organ. Pictures and statues were banned, but the architecture was baroque, the moldings were extravagant and the decor was elaborate.
This morning the hall was packed to the galleries, with people standing in the aisles and at the back. The employees of the bank had been given the day off to attend, and representatives had come from every important financial institution in the City. Hugh nodded to the governor of the Bank of England, the First Lord of the Treasury, and Ben Greenbourne, more than seventy years old but still as straight-backed as a young guardsman.
The family were ushered to reserved seats in the front row. Hugh sat next to his uncle Samuel, who was as immaculate as ever in a black frock coat, a wing collar and a fashionably knotted silk tie. Like Greenbourne, Samuel was in his seventies, and he too was alert and fit.
Samuel was the obvious choice as Senior Partner, now that Joseph was dead. He was the oldest and most experienced of the partners. However, Augusta and Samuel hated each other, and she would oppose him fiercely. She would probably back Joseph's brother Young William, now forty-two years old.
Among the other partners, two would not be considered because they did not bear the Pilaster name: Major Hartshorn and Sir Harry Tonks, husband of Joseph's daughter Clementine. The remaining partners were Hugh and Edward.
Hugh wanted to be Senior Partner--he wanted it with all his heart. Although he was the youngest of the partners, he was the ablest banker of them all. He knew he could make the bank bigger and stronger than it had ever been and at the same time reduce its exposure to the risky kind of loans Joseph had relied on. However, Augusta would oppose him even more bitterly than she would oppose Samuel. But he could not bear to wait until Augusta was old, or dead, before he took control. She was only fifty-eight: she could easily be around in another fifteen years, as vigorous and spiteful as ever.
The other partner was Edward. He was sitting next to Augusta in the front row. He was heavy and red-faced in middle age, and he had recently developed some kind of skin rash which was very unsightly. He was neither intelligent nor hardworking and in seventeen years he had managed to learn very little about banking. He arrived at work after ten and left for lunch around noon, and he quite often failed to return at all in the afternoon. He drank sherry for breakfast and was never quite sober all day, and he relied on his clerk, Simon Oliver, to keep him out of trouble. The idea of his being Senior Partner was unthinkable.
Edward's wife was sitting next to him, which was a rare event. They led quite separate lives. He lived at Whitehaven House with his mother, and Emily spent all her time at their country house, coming to London only for ceremonial occasions such as funerals. Emily had once been very pretty, with big blue eyes and a childlike smile, but over the years her face had set in lines of disappointment. They had no children and it seemed to Hugh that they hated each other.
Next to Emily was Micky Miranda, fiendishly debonair in a gray coat with a black mink collar. Ever since finding out that Micky had murdered Peter Middleton, Hugh had been frightened of him. Edward and Micky were still as thick as thieves. Micky was involved in many of the South American investments the bank had backed over the last ten years.
The service was long and tedious, then the procession from the hall to the cemetery, in the relentless September rain, took more than an hour, because of the hundreds of carriages following the hearse.
Hugh studied Augusta as her husband's coffin was lowered into the ground. She stood under a big umbrella held by Edward. Her hair was all silver, and she looked magnificent in a huge black hat. Surely now, when she had lost the companion of a lifetime, she would seem human and pitiable? But her proud face was carved in stern lines, like a marble sculpture of a Roman senator, and she showed no grief.
After the burial there was a lunch at Whitehaven House for the whole Pilaster extended family, including all the partners with their wives and children, plus close business associates and long-time hangers-on such as Micky Miranda. So that they could all eat together Augusta had put two dining tables end-to-end in the long drawing room.
Hugh had not been inside the house for a year or two, and since his last visit it had been redecorated yet again, this time in the newly fashionable Arab style. Moorish arches had been inserted in the doorways, all the furniture featured carved fretwork, the upholstery was in colorful abstract Islamic designs, and here in the drawing room were a Cairo screen and a Koran stand.
Augusta sat Edward in his father's chair. Hugh thought that was a bit tactless. Putting him at the head of the table cruelly emphasized how incapable he was of filling his father's shoes. Joseph had been an erratic leader but he had not been a fool.
However, Augusta had a purpose as always. Toward the end of the meal she said, with her customary abruptness: 'There must be a new Senior Partner as soon as possible, and obviously it will be Edward.'
Hugh was horrified. Augusta had always had a blind spot about her son, but all the same this was totally unexpected. He felt sure she could not possibly get her way, but it was unnerving that she should even make the suggestion.
There was a silence, and he realized that everyone was waiting for him to speak. He was regarded by the family as the opposition to Augusta.
He hesitated while he considered how best to handle it. He decided to try for a standoff. 'I think the partners should discuss the question tomorrow,' he said.
