Read Online Due Diligence by Grant Sutherland - Free Book Online Page A

what he saw of their operation, and by Gifford himself, that he suggested we turn the unasked-for connection to advantage. Our joint venture in Funds Management is the first fruit of this uneasy transatlantic alliance.
    ‘Apart from that?’ I ask.
    ‘Hmm?’
    ‘Apart from the civil gesture. What’s he doing here?’
    ‘It can’t do any harm. Raef.’
    I put a hand on his elbow and we stop in the open field. I ask him why he hasn’t told me about this.
    ‘It’s nothing formal,’ he says. ‘With Lyle making trouble, we thought it might be an idea.’
    ‘Meaning what? You think we need a white knight?’
    ‘Raef. Please.’
    ‘I've got a right to know.’
    He seems to draw into himself. He doesn‘t like open confrontations, especially with me. ‘A precaution,’ he say. ‘That’s all.’
    A precaution: in his own mind he really believes that. But his thoughts are turning in a direction that I don’t like one bit. He thinks that if Lyle makes a move on Carltons, it might be useful to have a cash- rich ally close by; a possible white knight who could save us from the clutches of Sandersons. But being saved like this would mean disappearing into American Pacific’s great maw. My father, though he would never admit to it, is preparing to lose.
    ‘Edward!’ Charles calls, and we turn to see him and Gifford both mounted, and looking our way. In silence now, we go down to join them.
     
     
    2
----
    L ater, back up at the house, I’m putting on my dark jacket when Margie passes the bedroom door.
    ‘Raef? Theresa and Annie just come.’
    A jolt of confused impulses rushes through me: happiness and recrimination; behind these a good deal of pain.
    ‘I’ll be right down.’ I continue to check myself in the mirror, and a minute later I feel ready to face my wife.
    Theresa is in the dining room, she comes across and peeks my cheek. Sir John and his wife stand near by. I draw away gently. ‘Where’s Annie?’
    Theresa gives me a piercing look. ‘Out in the garden,’ she says.
    ‘How’s everything down in Hampshire?’
    She tells me her parents send their love. We exchange a few more banalities - isn’t the house looking good, aren't the willows growing well — all as if nothing has happened. Not a word of regret for Daniel. At last Sir John and his wife come over to join us and I excuse myself and step through the high french windows. The tension in my shoulders eases. I fill my lungs with air.
    My wife is a beautiful woman. That isn’t just my opinion, I couldn’t count the times I’ve been congratulated on my undeserved good fortune. Even my mother, a hard judge of the feminine, conceded that Theresa was something more than just pretty. And my father adores her. She has an elegant grace, a natural ease, that no amount of effort could counterfeit. But I married her for another reason. I married Theresa, if it doesn’t sound too ridiculously old-fashioned, because I loved her, and because I believed that she loved me.
    What changed? For the first few years it was fine, we were happy. Very happy. But then she started talking about children, and I wasn’t ready, there was still too much to do at the bank. We discussed it, mature adults being reasonable, and she agreed to wait. Reasonable. What chance does reason stand against nature? In the last few years before Annie was born I would sometimes wake in the middle of the night to find Theresa crying quietly beside me. And I knew why. Yes, I knew. But I was sure that once I had the bank sorted out we could put things right again. Would that have happened? I don’t know. Maybe. Annie is on the lawn in front of me, stamping patterns into the melting frost with her tiny galoshes. She drags her heels, joining patterns, then she takes a long stride and looks back. A moment’s uncertainty, then she laughs.
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘A house,’ she says.
    ‘A doll’s house?’
    She shakes her head sternly, and I bend down and rub my cheek against hers. She