A Dangerous Fortune - Ken Follett [84]
Maisie stared at her brother in admiration. The plan was formidably ambitious—but she had thought the same when at the age of thirteen he had said There’s a ship in the harbor that’s bound for Boston on the morning tide—I’ll shin up a rope tonight and hide on deck in one of the boats. He had done what he said then and he probably would now. He said he had led a strike. He seemed to have grown into the kind of person other men would follow.
“But what about Papa and Mama?” he said. “Have you been in touch with them?”
Maisie shook her head and then, surprising herself, she began to cry. Suddenly she felt the pain of losing her family, a pain she had refused to acknowledge all these years.
Danny put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll go back up north and see if I can trace them.”
“I hope you find them,” Maisie said. “I miss them so much.” She caught the eye of April, who was staring at her in astonishment. “I’m so afraid they’ll be ashamed of me.”
“And why should they?” he said.
“I’m pregnant.”
His face reddened. “And not married?”
“No.”
“Going to get married?”
“No.”
Danny was angry. “Who is the swine?”
Maisie raised her voice. “Spare me the outraged-brother act, will you?”
“I’d like to break his neck—”
“Shut up, Danny!” Maisie said angrily. “You left me alone seven years ago and you’ve no business to come back and act as if you own me.” He looked abashed, and she went on in a quieter voice: “It doesn’t matter. He would have married me, I expect, but I didn’t want him to, so forget about him. Anyway, he’s gone to America.”
Danny calmed down. “If I wasn’t your brother I’d marry you myself. You’re pretty enough! Anyway, you can have what little money I’ve got left.”
“I don’t want it.” She was sounding ungracious, but she could not help it. “There’s no need for you to take care of me, Danny. Use your money for your workingmen’s club. I’ll look after myself. I managed when I was eleven years old, so I suppose I can now.”
3
MICKY MIRANDA AND PAPA were in a small eating house in Soho, lunching off oyster stew—the cheapest dish on the menu—and strong beer. The restaurant was a few minutes from the Cordovan Ministry in Portland Place, where Micky now sat at a writing table every morning for an hour or two, dealing with the minister’s mail. He was finished for the day and had met Papa for lunch. They sat opposite each other on hard wooden high-backed benches. There was sawdust on the floor and years of grease on the low ceiling. Micky hated eating in such places, but all the same he did it often, to save money. He ate at the Cowes Club only when Edward was paying. Besides, taking Papa to the club was a strain: Micky was constantly afraid the old man would start a fight, or pull a gun, or spit on the rug.
Papa wiped his bowl with a chunk of bread and pushed it aside. “I must explain something to you,” he said.
Micky put down his spoon.
Papa said: “I need rifles to fight the Delabarca family. When I have destroyed them I will take over their nitrate mines. The mines will make our family rich.”
Micky nodded silently. He had heard all this before but he would not dare to say so.
“The nitrate mines are only the beginning, the first step,” Papa went on. “When we have more money, we will buy more rifles. Different family members will become important people in the province.”
Micky’s ears pricked up. This was a new line.
“Your cousin Jorge will be a colonel in the army. Your brother Paulo will become chief of police in Santamaria Province.”
So that he can be a professional bully instead of an amateur, Micky thought.
Papa said: “Then I will become governor of the province.”
Governor! Micky had not realized that Papa’s aspirations were so high.
But he had not finished. “When we control the province, we will look to the nation. We will become fervent supporters of President Garcia. You will be his envoy in London. Your brother will become his minister of justice, perhaps. Your uncles will be generals. Your half-brother Dominic, the priest, will become archbishop of Palma.”
Micky was