Read Online Flight by Victoria Glendinning - Free Book Online Page A

for himself, was to go ahead with Harpers. But that meant going against Arthur Cox’s wishes. He’d been playing Arthur along. He hadn’t been candid with him. That was a tactical and moral mistake. A compass error.
    The only right thing to do now was to see Arthur before the meeting and confess that he was going to vote in favour of the merger. He dreaded Arthur’s disappointment and disillusion. He dreaded Arthur’s sadness, and anger, and accusations of ingratitude. But he had to do it.
    He put it off and put it off. Finally, the day before the meeting, Martagon went to Arthur’s office after lunch, sweating. The tottering stacks of files had all been cleared away. Arthur was stuffing papers into his briefcase, clearly preparing to leave.
    â€˜Can you spare me half an hour?’ said Martagon.
    â€˜Sorry, old man. Family party. The grandson’s tenth birthday. Got to be there. Got to get an early train.’
    â€˜Arthur, it’s really important.’
    â€˜I’ll give you fifty seconds, then. Good training. As I’ve often told you, you should be able to articulate anything important within fifty seconds.’
    That was rich, coming from Arthur.
    â€˜It’s about tomorrow’s meeting—’
    Arthur interrupted, snapping closed the catches of his briefcase, looking round for his overcoat, ‘I don’t want to hear it. Not another word. You know where I stand, and I know where you stand. Shoulder to shoulder, as we always have been.’
    And he was gone, pushing past Martagon in the doorway, patting Martagon’s arm as he lumbered past.
    Martagon did not try to follow him.
    Next morning, as everyone herded into the first-floor boardroom at Caxton Street, Martagon put his head round Arthur’s office door. The room looked stark, as if it belonged to no one. ‘You all right?’ asked Martagon.
    â€˜Bit of a cloud … bit of a cloud,’ said Arthur, his bulky body slumped in the chair. ‘I’m just coming.’ Then he raised his head and looked at Martagon. ‘Look here – I know you’ve got your way to make, I know you get ideas in your head, but I can rely on you when it comes to the crunch. If it comes to a vote, you won’t vote against me, Martagon, will you?’
    Martagon opened his mouth to speak. Arthur cut in before he had got out a word, ‘Knew I could trust you. When it came to the crunch. I’m just coming. You go on in.’
    Lacerated by his longing to save Arthur from humiliation and defeat, Martagon prayed for a miracle.
    *   *   *
    It was a long meeting. They sat down at nine thirty in the morning, and emerged, exhausted, at half past five. Arthur chaired it badly. He hardly chaired it at all.
    Martagon, as managing director, kicked off. He was well prepared, and ran over all the now familiar ground, setting out evenly the pros and cons, without explicitly indicating his own preference. But knowing that the only thing that would bring about the desired miracle – Arthur’s change of heart – was his own persuasive eloquence, he suspected that everyone else in the room could guess where his own hopes lay. He spoke for about twenty-five minutes.
    After that, everyone around the table had a say, some at considerable length. There were questions, most of which could be answered by reference to some portion of the stack of papers in front of each board member. Mirabel Plunket voiced the anxiety all shared, but which none of the men would have come out with directly, or not yet, for fear of betraying their insecurity. So Martagon spoke again, to reassure the board that the continuing employment of the Cox & Co. staff would be, so far as possible, guaranteed under the terms of any merger. If – and at this stage it was still only if – negotiations went ahead, this would be his own first priority.
    Dawn wheeled in a trolley with chocolate biscuits, cups and