Cometh the Hour (The Clifton Chronicles 6)
“Then you can be sure every book had to be properly stamped and back on time if you didn’t want to be fined.”
“She’ll be a hard act to follow, as everyone continually reminds me. I’ve already discovered that a hospital is a fascinating twenty-four-hour operation. It rather puts Barrington’s Shipping in the shade.”
“Which department has Eddie asked you to shadow?”
“Nursing. The senior matron and I are already meeting once a week. An NHS hospital is very different from a public company because no one thinks about profits, only patients.”
“You’ll end up a socialist yet,” said Giles.
“Not a hope. The bottom line still dictates the success or failure of any organization, so I’ve asked Sebastian to trawl through the hospital’s annual accounts to see if he can spot any ways of cutting costs or making savings.”
“How’s Sebastian doing,” asked Giles, “remembering all he’s been through?”
“He’s more or less fully recovered physically, but I suspect that mentally it will take considerably longer.”
“That’s understandable,” said Giles. “First Sam, and then Priya. How can we even begin to understand how he’s coping?”
“He’s simply immersed himself in work,” said Emma. “Since he’s become the bank’s chief executive he’s been working hours that make no sense. In fact he doesn’t seem to have any personal life at all.”
“Have either of you raised the delicate subject of Samantha?” asked Giles.
“Once or twice,” said Harry, “but it’s always the same response. He won’t consider getting in touch with her while Michael is still alive.”
“Does that also apply to Jessica?”
“I’m afraid so, although I never mention our granddaughter unless he does.?
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“But your mother was right,” said Emma. “The years are slipping by and, at this rate, Jessica will be a young woman before any of us get to meet her.”
“Sadly that may well be the case,” said Harry. “But we have to remember it’s Seb’s life that’s been thrown into turmoil, not ours.”
“Speaking of people whose lives have been thrown into turmoil,” said Emma, turning to her brother, “I often wonder how your ex-wife is coping with motherhood.”
“Not very well, I suspect,” said Giles. “And has anybody ever found out who the father is?”
“No, that remains a mystery. But whoever it is, little Freddie doesn’t seem to have interfered with Virginia’s lifestyle. I’m told she’s back on the circuit, and the drinks are on her.”
“Then the father has to be an extremely wealthy man,” said Harry.
“He does,” agreed Giles. “Wealthy enough to have bought her a house in Onslow Gardens, and for her to employ a nanny, who I gather can be seen wheeling the Hon. Frederick Archibald Iain Bruce Fenwick in his pram down Rotten Row every morning.”
“How do you know that?” asked Emma.
“We socialists don’t confine ourselves to the Times and Telegraph, sis, and what’s more—” Giles was interrupted by a knock on the front door. “That must be Karin back from Cornwall,” he said as he rose from his chair and left the room.
“Why don’t you like Karin?” asked Emma once Giles was out of earshot.
“What makes you say that?” asked Harry.
“You imagine I don’t know what you’re thinking, after more than forty years? Giles adores her, and it upsets him that you won’t accept her.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Giles and Karin strolled into the room chatting and holding hands. Harry stood up to greet her. If she wasn’t in love with Giles, he thought, she’s a damn good actress.