A Song of Sixpence by A. J. Cronin

you … there’s a chap near my office. Medical Officer for the Caledonia Insurance Company. I run into him occasionally. Since you’re so insistent. I might drop in one day and see him for you.’
    Ignoring the onus Father had skilfully put on her, Mother gave a soft sigh of relief which, though suppressed, was still audible.
    â€˜Then go, Conor. Why not go tomorrow?’
    Father, having resumed his paper, apparently took no notice.
    On the following evening when he returned Mother met him at the door in the usual way. As they came in together I noticed nothing wrong in Father’s expression except that he seemed tired. But often, when he had been unusually busy, he looked tired. During dinner, which was nicer than usual, with the beef stew Father liked, he ate with a good appetite. No reference was made to the conversation of the day before. When I had finished I moved to my seat by the window with a book. Only then did I hear Mother say, in a low voice:
    â€˜Well?’
    Father did not immediately answer. When he did, his voice was calm, rather thoughtful.
    â€˜Yes, I went. Dr Macmillan. A very decent sort. It appears that you were right, Grace. Apparently one of my lungs is slightly affected.’
    â€˜Affected? But with what?’
    â€˜With … well …’ Father did not want to say it, but he had to. ‘A bit of a touch of T.B.’
    â€˜Oh, Con … is it serious?’
    â€˜Now don’t get alarmed. After all, it’s nothing unusual. A common complaint. Lots of people get it. And they get over it.’
    I heard Mother’s breath go out in a long troubled sigh. Then she reached slowly across the table and pressed Father’s hand.
    â€˜At least now we know where we stand. You’ll give up now and really get well. Go to a sanatorium or take a sea voyage, like Dr Ewen advised.’
    â€˜Yes, I’ll go. It’s to be sanatorium apparently. I’ll go like a shot. I promise you. But not quite yet’
    â€˜Conor! You must go at once.’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜You must.’
    â€˜It’s impossible, Grace. Simply can’t be done. Every penny we’ve got is in the yeast. I’ve even borrowed from the bank. And all my plans are just coming to a head.’
    â€˜What does money matter at a time like this?’
    â€˜It’s not the money. I’m doing well. But the business is young, you know it’s a one man affair, and there’s something extra special come up with the U.D. L. that I have to be there for, I simply can’t leave, with the next few months going to be so critical.’
    â€˜Oh, Con … Con … I don’t know what you’re talking about with your U.D.L. It’s you, and your health, that come first.’
    â€˜Now, Grace, we must be sensible. For your sake and the boy’s, as well as my own. U.D.L. is United Distillers Limited, one of the biggest companies in the country, and they’re definitely, yes positively interested in my yeast. I’m sure I can bring off an amalgamation in a matter of three, perhaps only two months. Such a short time, lass. After that I’ll be free to take a six, even nine months’ rest to get well. In the meantime, I can work shorter hours, take an extra day off once in a while. I’ll be careful, extra careful in every way. I’ve thought it all over in the train coming home. I’ll do everything you say except throw away all I’ve worked and sweated and hoped for. It would be madness just when I’m in sight of the chance of a lifetime.’
    In their intensity of feeling they had both forgotten me. I stole a fearful glance at Mother. Tears were beginning to bud beneath her eyes. I knew that she was beaten and that Father would have his way.
    Yet for once my sympathies were with him. At that moment, and all through the period that followed, I never for a moment doubted my father. My confidence in his astuteness, judgement,