The Legacy by Evelyn Anthony Page B

drive home after dinner unless they didn’t drink.’
    Rolf smiled. ‘Did he learn that from you?’
    â€˜No, he learned it from friends who’d lost their licences. Please stay.’
    He hesitated; he didn’t want to spend the night there; it was too seductive, too removed from the real world, and yet it was a major step towards gaining her confidence.
    â€˜All right, that’s very kind, and perhaps you could show me your husband’s manuscripts? I’d be so interested.’
    â€˜I would if I had any idea where to find them amongst all those books and folders in the library,’ Christina said. ‘If you come again we could look for them.’ He had to be content with that.

3
    He had gone when she came down to breakfast, and the housekeeper handed her a note: ‘Thank you for dinner and a very pleasant evening. I’m in the office all day if you need me. Please call after the meeting. Rolf.’
    Christina threw the note away. She had a busy morning and she planned to drive to London in time to keep the appointment and then come straight home to RussMore. Belinda had invited her friend over to spend the day and stay the night. She was a confident self-sufficient child; she had always been loved without being spoilt, and she had no doubts about herself, unlike Richard’s two sons. Christina was glad to be occupied; it stopped her being nervous about confronting Alan. She meant to approach him reasonably, to try and defuse some of the rage and resentment which had devolved from his father onto her.
    Above all, she told herself as she drove towards his Holborn office block, I’m not going to be intimidated. It was a tall glass-fronted building, with Farrington Fast Foods in heavy steel letters above the entrance. Alan’s office was on the top floor. A secretary came to meet her; a smooth efficient young woman with an empty smile.
    She knocked on the door of the inner office and Christina heard his voice call out, ‘Come!’
    â€˜Mrs Farrington to see you,’ and then she was walking in and they were face to face. He was standing, but he didn’t move towards her. There was a huge window behind him with a view of sky and rooftops, and Christina noted a stream of cumulus cloud speeding past on a strong wind.
    â€˜Hello, Alan,’ she said. He didn’t answer for a moment; looking at her filled him with a surge of anger. He actually turned his head away.
    â€˜You wanted to see me,’ he said abruptly. ‘Sit down. I’ve a meeting at six-fifteen, so make it brief.’
    Christina moved to a chair. She had felt the colour rise at his sheer rudeness, but she didn’t falter. She didn’t hurry; she settled herself, unbuttoned her jacket and faced him calmly.
    â€˜Why don’t you sit down too? I didn’t come for a row or a confrontation; and I’m not going to have either. I wanted to try and talk this through with you. Can’t we discuss the situation like two rational people, instead of fighting?’
    Alan glared at her. ‘There’s nothing to discuss,’ he said. ‘I’m contesting the will, and I’m going to win.’
    She said quietly, ‘I don’t think so. Only the lawyers will win if we go to court. You can drag us all through the dirt if you want to, but your father had the best advice and he knew the trust and the will were unbreakable. I’ve come to make you an offer.’ He smiled at her; it was a naked sneer.
    â€˜Oh, have you? Let’s hear it then.’
    Christina said, ‘I’ll give you everything your father left me, which wasn’t in the trust: money, his personal portfolio, everything. I can’t do more than that. I’ve nothing else to offer because RussMore is Belinda’s.’ She leaned towards him suddenly. ‘Alan,’ she said, ‘I’m not your enemy; I’d like us to be friends. Why keep all this hatred going?