As the Crow Flies

long deliberation over several weeks, they insisted on only a few minor modifications to young Talbot’s original plans. She gave her architect immediate instructions to clear the bombed-out site so that the building could begin without delay.

The application to the LCC by Sir Charles Trumper for a new store to be erected in Chelsea Terrace came in for considerable national publicity, most of it favorable. However, Mrs. Trentham noted that in several articles written about the proposed new building, there was mention of a certain Mr. Martin Simpson who described himself as the president of the Save the Small Shops Federation a body that objected to the whole concept of Trumper’s. Mr. Simpson claimed it could only harm the little shopkeeper in the long run; their livelihoods were, after all, being put at risk. He went on to complain that what made it even more unfair was that none of the local shopkeepers had the means of taking on a man as powerful and wealthy as Sir Charles Trumper.

“Oh, yes, they have,” Mrs. Trentham said over breakfast that morning.

“Have what?”

“Nothing important,” she reassured her husband, but later that day she supplied Harris with the financial wherewithal to allow Mr. Simpson to lodge an official objection to the Trumper scheme. Mrs. Trentham also agreed to cover any out-of-pocket costs Mr. Simpson might incur while carrying out his endeavors.

She began to follow the results of Mr. Simpson’s efforts daily in the national press, even confiding to Harris that she would have been happy to pay the man a fee for the service he was rendering; but like so many activists the cause was all he seemed to care about.

Once the bulldozers had moved in on Mrs. Trentham’s site and work had come to a standstill on Trumper’s, she turned her attention back to Daniel and the problem of his inheritance.

Her lawyers had confirmed that there was no way of reversing the provisions in the will unless Daniel Trumper were voluntarily to resign all his rights. They even presented her with a form of words that would be necessary for him to sign in such circumstances, leaving Mrs. Trentham the daunting task of actually getting his signature affixed to the paper.

As Mrs. Trentham was unable to imagine any situation in which she and Daniel would ever meet she considered the whole exercise futile. However, she carefully locked the lawyer’s draft in the bottom drawer of her desk in the drawing room along with all the other Trumper documents.

“How nice to see you again, madam,” said Mr. Sneddles. “I cannot apologize too profusely over the length of time I have taken to complete your commission. I shall naturally charge you no more than the sum on which we originally agreed.”

The bookseller was unable to see the expression on Mrs. Trentham’s face as she had not yet removed her veil. She followed the old man past shelf after shelf of dust-covered books until they reached his little room at the back of the shop. There she was introduced to Dr. Halcombe who, like Sneddles, was wearing a heavy overcoat. She declined to take the offered chair when she noticed that it too was covered in a thin layer of dust.

The old man proudly pointed to eight boxes that lay on his desk. It took him nearly an hour to explain, with the occasional interjection from Dr. Halcombe, how they had catalogued her late father’s entire library, first alphabetically under authors, then by categories and finally with a separate cross-section under titles. A rough valuation of each book had also been penciled neatly in the bottom right-hand corner of every card.

Mrs. Trentham was surprisingly patient with Mr. Sneddles, occasionally asking questions in whose answer she had no interest, while allowing him to indulge in a long and complicated explanation as to how he had occupied his time during the past five years.

“You have done a quite remarkable job, Mr. Sneddles,” she said after he flicked over the last card, “Zola, Emile (1840–1902).” “I could not have asked for more.”

“You are most kind, madam,” said the old man, bowing low, “but then you have always shown such a genuine concern in these matters. Your father could have found no more suitable person to be responsible for his life’s work.”

“Fifty guineas was the agreed fee, if I remember correctly,” said Mrs. Trentham, removing a check from her handbag and passing it over to the owner of the bookshop.

“Thank you, madam,” Mr. Sneddles replied, taking the check and placing it absentmindedly in an ashtray. He refrained from adding, “I would happily have paid you double the sum for the privilege of carrying out such an exercise.”

“And I see,” she said, studying the accompanying papers closely, “that you have placed an overall value on the entire collection of a little under five thousand pounds.”

“That is correct, madam. I should warn you, however, that if anything I have erred on the conservative side. You see, some of these volumes are so rare it would be difficult to say what they might fetch on the open market.”

“Does that mean you would be willing to offer such a sum for the library should I wish to dispose of it?” asked Mrs. Trentham, looking directly at him.

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure, madam,” replied the old man. “But alas, I fear that I quite simply do not have sufficient funds to do so.”

“What would your attitude be were I to entrust you with the responsibility for their sale?” asked Mrs. Trentham, her eyes never leaving the old man.

“I can think of no greater privilege, madam, but it might take me many months—possibly even years to carry out such an enterprise.”

“Then perhaps we should come to some arrangement, Mr. Sneddles.”

“Some arrangement? I’m not sure I fully understand you, madam.”

“A partnership perhaps, Mr. Sneddles?”

CHAPTER

34

Mrs. Trentham approved of Nigel’s choice of bride; but then it was she who had selected the young lady in the first place.

Veronica Berry possessed all the attributes her future mother-in-law considered necessary to become a Trentham. She came from a good family: her father was a vice-admiral who had not yet been placed on the reserve list and her mother was the daughter of a suffragan bishop. They were comfortably off without being wealthy and, more important, of their three children, all daughters, Veronica was the eldest.