does too
much - you should try and make her rest more.’
‘Felix—’
‘She’s not physically very strong, you know. She never
has been.’
‘Felix, I hate to argue with you, but I think Octavia is
quite physically strong. Actually. And if she’s tired—’
‘Of course she is. Surely you’ve noticed it?’
‘Not especially, no, I hadn’t. I agree with you she does
too much, but that is largely of her own volition.’
‘Is it? I don’t know that that’s true. She puts in a lot of
hours for you, all the entertaining—’
‘I don’t—’ Tom stopped suddenly. ‘Yes, she does do a
lot. Of course. But she is quite driven herself
‘Driven? I wouldn’t have put it quite like that. She drives
herself.’
‘Felix, I take your point. And I’m sorry if she’s
particularly tired. I’ll — talk to her, make sure she’s all right.’
He shouldn’t have to be asked to talk to his wife, thought
Felix. It wasn’t fair.
‘Right. I’ll get Cadogan to ring you. And make sure you
return any calls promptly this time, won’t you, Tom?’
‘Felix, of course I will. I’m sorry again. And thanks for
thinking of us.’
Felix sat looking at the phone after Tom had rung off. The
warmth in his tone, the wholeheartedness of his apology
had sounded genuine. He clearly wanted this account. And
if he got it he would handle it well. Felix had no doubts
whatsoever as to Tom’s business ability; if he had, there
would have been no question of his recommending him.
And he also recognised the power of Tom’s brain, which
was first class. It was indeed one of the problems, as
Marianne had once rather courageously proposed, of his
relationship with his son-in-law; had he had an inferior
intellect to his own, been less well read, with less capacity
for original thought, Felix could have despised him. As it
was, he was forced into a fiercely uneasy admiration for
him. This, combined with an emotional distaste and a
ferocious jealousy, made for a dangerously powerful mix.
He had never, he had once admitted to Marianne, had any
reasoned grounds for his dislike of Tom. But he also knew, and had also said to her, that if Tom did anything that really
hurt, truly damaged Octavia, he would have no compunction
whatsoever in killing him. ‘In fact,’ he had said, with
an icily regretful smile, ‘I would be unable not to.’
He had made this statement on the back of a bottle and a
half of claret; but Marianne had always felt that it was
actually terrifyingly true.
It was almost the end of the day when Tom phoned Bob
Macintosh. ‘Progress, I think,’ he said. ‘Just had a very
interesting conversation with your friend at the House. He
does seem very concerned that you should cooperate with
them over this. I said you weren’t quite so keen, but there
was another matter I would like to discuss with him. He
was fairly unhelpful initially, but I did tell him I was already
hearing talk of Toshigate being bandied about among my
contacts down at Canary Wharf’
‘Toshigate?’
‘Yes. Tosh as in Macintosh, gate as in Watergate.’
‘Oh, I see. Yes, that’s very funny, Tom, I must say.’
‘Yes, I thought so. I made it up,’ said Tom modestly.
‘Anyway, an hour or so later, I got another call; I think
we’ll find that any lobbying we do on Euro regs vis-i-vis the
retail food industry will receive a sympathetic ear, and
there’s a good possibility of a parliamentary question on the
subject, or even an Early Day Motion, particularly if they
are persuaded of a broad span of interest. So I think, under
the circumstances, a quick photo session might be at least
worth considering, don’t you?’
‘Oh, I do,’ said Bob Macintosh. ‘Under the circumstances.
Certainly worth considering.’
Octavia arrived home at nine, after a rather tedious
committee meeting with the regional representatives of a
new client, a sponsor-a-child charity looking to raise
much - you should try and make her rest more.’
‘Felix—’
‘She’s not physically very strong, you know. She never
has been.’
‘Felix, I hate to argue with you, but I think Octavia is
quite physically strong. Actually. And if she’s tired—’
‘Of course she is. Surely you’ve noticed it?’
‘Not especially, no, I hadn’t. I agree with you she does
too much, but that is largely of her own volition.’
‘Is it? I don’t know that that’s true. She puts in a lot of
hours for you, all the entertaining—’
‘I don’t—’ Tom stopped suddenly. ‘Yes, she does do a
lot. Of course. But she is quite driven herself
‘Driven? I wouldn’t have put it quite like that. She drives
herself.’
‘Felix, I take your point. And I’m sorry if she’s
particularly tired. I’ll — talk to her, make sure she’s all right.’
He shouldn’t have to be asked to talk to his wife, thought
Felix. It wasn’t fair.
‘Right. I’ll get Cadogan to ring you. And make sure you
return any calls promptly this time, won’t you, Tom?’
‘Felix, of course I will. I’m sorry again. And thanks for
thinking of us.’
Felix sat looking at the phone after Tom had rung off. The
warmth in his tone, the wholeheartedness of his apology
had sounded genuine. He clearly wanted this account. And
if he got it he would handle it well. Felix had no doubts
whatsoever as to Tom’s business ability; if he had, there
would have been no question of his recommending him.
And he also recognised the power of Tom’s brain, which
was first class. It was indeed one of the problems, as
Marianne had once rather courageously proposed, of his
relationship with his son-in-law; had he had an inferior
intellect to his own, been less well read, with less capacity
for original thought, Felix could have despised him. As it
was, he was forced into a fiercely uneasy admiration for
him. This, combined with an emotional distaste and a
ferocious jealousy, made for a dangerously powerful mix.
He had never, he had once admitted to Marianne, had any
reasoned grounds for his dislike of Tom. But he also knew, and had also said to her, that if Tom did anything that really
hurt, truly damaged Octavia, he would have no compunction
whatsoever in killing him. ‘In fact,’ he had said, with
an icily regretful smile, ‘I would be unable not to.’
He had made this statement on the back of a bottle and a
half of claret; but Marianne had always felt that it was
actually terrifyingly true.
It was almost the end of the day when Tom phoned Bob
Macintosh. ‘Progress, I think,’ he said. ‘Just had a very
interesting conversation with your friend at the House. He
does seem very concerned that you should cooperate with
them over this. I said you weren’t quite so keen, but there
was another matter I would like to discuss with him. He
was fairly unhelpful initially, but I did tell him I was already
hearing talk of Toshigate being bandied about among my
contacts down at Canary Wharf’
‘Toshigate?’
‘Yes. Tosh as in Macintosh, gate as in Watergate.’
‘Oh, I see. Yes, that’s very funny, Tom, I must say.’
‘Yes, I thought so. I made it up,’ said Tom modestly.
‘Anyway, an hour or so later, I got another call; I think
we’ll find that any lobbying we do on Euro regs vis-i-vis the
retail food industry will receive a sympathetic ear, and
there’s a good possibility of a parliamentary question on the
subject, or even an Early Day Motion, particularly if they
are persuaded of a broad span of interest. So I think, under
the circumstances, a quick photo session might be at least
worth considering, don’t you?’
‘Oh, I do,’ said Bob Macintosh. ‘Under the circumstances.
Certainly worth considering.’
Octavia arrived home at nine, after a rather tedious
committee meeting with the regional representatives of a
new client, a sponsor-a-child charity looking to raise
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