“Why not? He appointed himself chairman while we were at Cedric’s funeral, so why wouldn’t he rewrite the bank’s statutes if it meant he could stop you getting on the board? Just because he’s a despicable man doesn’t mean he isn’t a clever one. But frankly, Seb, I think you’ve got a far bigger problem facing you on the home front.”
“At Kaufman’s?”
“No, at Barrington’s. I did warn your mother that if she allowed Desmond Mellor to become a director, it would end in tears. He’s been on the board for four years, and I’m sure you know he now wants to be deputy chairman.”
“He couldn’t make it more obvious,” said Seb. “But as long as my mother is chairman, he can forget it.”
“I agree, just so long as your mother is chairman. But surely you noticed that he’s already begun to park his tanks on your front lawn?”
“What are you talking about?”
“If you read this morning’s Financial Times, you’ll find tucked away under new appointments that Adrian Sloane has invited Mellor to become deputy chairman of Farthings. Now you tell me, what do those two have in common?”
This silenced Seb for the first time.
“An intense dislike of your family. But don’t despair,” continued Ross, “you still have a card up your sleeve that he’ll find hard to trump.”
“And what’s that?”
“Not what, who. Beryl Hardcastle and her fifty-one percent of Farthings’ stock. Beryl won’t consider signing any more documents sent by Sloane that haven’t been carefully scrutinized by her son first.”
“So what do you advise?”
“Once you’ve got six percent of the bank’s stock, you can park your tank on Sloane’s front lawn and cause havoc.”
“But if I were to get hold of Beryl Hardcastle’s fifty-one percent, I could park a whole army on Sloane’s front lawn, and he’d have no choice but to beat a hasty retreat.”
“Nice idea, as long as you know someone with the odd twenty million pounds to spare.”
“How about Bob Bingham?” said Seb.
“Bob’s a wealthy man, but I think you’ll find that’s even too much for him to consider.”
“Saul Kaufman?”
“In his present state of health, I suspect he’s a seller not a buyer.”
Seb looked disappointed.
“Try to forget taking over the bank for now, Seb. Concentrate on becoming a director and making Sloane’s life hell.”
Seb nodded. “I’ll go and see him as soon as I’m back from the States.”
“I think there’s someone else you should pay a visit to before you go to America.”
* * *
“What you have to appreciate, Sarah, is that although Macbeth is an ambitious man, Lady Macbeth is the key to him getting his hands on the crown. This was at a time when women’s rights didn’t exist, and her only hope of having any real influence in Scotland was to convince her weak, vacillating husband he should kill the king while he was a guest under their own roof. So I want to do that scene again, Sarah. Try to remember you’re a mean, conniving, evil piece of work, who’s trying to get her husband to commit murder. And this time, make sure you convince me, because if you do, you’ll convince the audience.”
Sebastian sat at the back of the hall and watched a group of enthusiastic young pupils rehearsing under the watchful eye of Mr. Swann. It was a pity that the stage was so small and cramped.
“Much better,” said Swann when they came to the end of the act. “That will do for today. Tomorrow, I want to start with the Banquo’s ghost scene. Rick, you must remember that Macbeth is the only person in the room who can see the ghost. Your guests at the dinner are fearful about what’s troubling you, some even think you’re losing your mind. And, Sarah, you’re trying to convince those same guests that all is well, and despite your husband’s strange behavior there’s nothing for them to worry about. And whatever you do, don’t ever look at the ghost, because if you should, even once, the spell will be broken. I’ll see you all at the same time tomorrow, and be sure you know your lines by then. After Monday, we abandon scripts.”
A groan went up as the actors left the stage and became school children once again, picking up their satchels and books and making their way out of the hall. It amused Seb to see Lady Macbeth clutching Banquo’s hand. No wonder Mr. Swann had told Sarah not to look at him during the ghost scene. Shrewd man.
Mr. Swann didn’t turn off the stage lights until he had all the props in place for the banquet scene. He then picked up his well-thumbed script, put in his old Gladstone bag, and headed slowly toward the door. At first he didn’t notice that someone was sitting at the back of the room, and he wasn’t able to hide his surprise when he saw who it was.
“We’re not doing Othello this year,” he said. “But if we were, I wouldn’t have to look far to cast Iago.”