Читать книгу The Sons of Adam - Harry Bingham - Страница 15

From that point on, events ran a hideously predictable course.

Sir Adam, unable to put Guy’s comments out of mind, decided to write in confidence to his London stockbroker, asking him – discreetly – to try to gauge whether there was any value in the Persian concession. Sir Adam told Guy that he had done as much. Guy let a few days pass, then told Tom.

Angrier than he’d ever been in his life, Tom flew to Sir Adam.

‘Uncle?’

‘Tommy! Hello there!’

‘What’s this about the concession?’

Sir Adam liked and admired Tom. The boy had pluck, doggedness, flair and passion. But, in moments of fury, he could also be rude, even violently rude. Sir Adam frowned.

‘What’s what?’ Sir Adam’s voice should have sent a warning, but Tom was unstoppable.

‘What are you doing with my concession?’

‘It’s not your concession, Tom. It’s in my name as your guardian.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘What makes you think I’m doing anything at all?’

‘Guy.’

Sir Adam answered slowly, trying to keep his calm. He nodded. ‘At Guy’s suggestion, which was a good one, I am taking steps to discover if the concession has marketable value. It may well do, seeing as D’Arcy seems on the verge of a major discovery in a region not so very far from our own patch.’

‘My patch. My concession.’

Then Sir Adam got angry. Tom’s impertinence was too much.

‘It is not your concession, Tom, nor is anything else for that matter, unless and until I damned well give it to you.’

‘You did give it. You said.’

‘I said it was a fine patch of land and I hoped you’d have fun dreaming about it. The idea that it might come to be yours – might one day come to be yours – arose when I believed the property in question to be without value.’

Tom almost staggered backwards. He crashed back against a mahogany sideboard.

‘You gave it to me because you thought it was worth nothing?’ Tom half laughed to himself. ‘And you’ve taken it back, at Guy’s suggestion?’ He blinked and looked down at the sideboard, where there stood a vase and, next to it, a framed photograph of the family: Sir Adam, Pamela, Guy, Tom, Alan. ‘Thank you, Uncle. I understand.’

He nodded once as though confirming something to himself, then swept his hand along the sideboard, knocking the photo to the floor. Almost by accident, he also caught the vase and toppled that too. The blue and white china shattered with a hollow boom and littered the floor with its wreckage.

Tom stared briefly and unemotionally at the mess, before walking quickly out of the room.