Death Comes as End - Agatha Christie [6]
Yahmose said doubtfully:
‘My father likes to keep things in his own hands.’
‘Exactly. It pleases him that everyone in the household should be dependent upon him–and upon his whim of the moment. It is bad, that, and it will get worse. This time when he comes home you must tackle him boldly–you must say that you demand a settlement in writing, that you insist on having a regularized position.’
‘He would not listen.’
‘Then you must make him listen. Oh that I were a man! If I were in your place I would know what to do! Sometimes I feel that I am married to a worm.’
Yahmose flushed.
‘I will see what I can do–I might, yes, I might perhaps speak to my father–ask him–’
‘Not ask–you must demand! After all, you have the whiphand of him. There is no one but you whom he can leave in charge here. Sobek is too wild, your father does not trust him, and Ipy is too young.’
‘There is always Hori.’
‘Hori is not a member of the family. Your father relies on his judgement, but he would not leave authority except in the hands of his own kin. But I see how it is; you are too meek and mild–and there is milk in your veins, not blood! You don’t consider me, or our children. Not till your father is dead shall we ever have our proper position.’
Yahmose said heavily:
‘You despise me, don’t you, Satipy?’
‘You make me angry.’
‘Listen, I tell you that I will speak to my father when he comes. There, it is a promise.’
Satipy murmured under her breath:
‘Yes–but how will you speak? Like a man–or like a mouse?’
II
Kait was playing with her youngest child, little Ankh. The baby was just beginning to walk and Kait encouraged her with laughing words, kneeling in front of her and waiting with outstretched arms until the child lurched precariously forward and toddled on uncertain feet into her mother’s arms.
Kait had been displaying these accomplishments to Sobek, but she realized suddenly that he was not attending, but was sitting with his handsome forehead furrowed into a frown.
‘Oh, Sobek–you were not looking. You do not see. Little one, tell your father he is naughty not to watch you.’
Sobek said irritably:
‘I have other things to think of–yes, and worry about.’
Kait leaned back on her heels, smoothing her hair back from her heavy dark brows where Ankh’s fingers had clutched it.
‘Why? Is there something wrong?’
Kait spoke without quite giving all her attention. The question was more than half mechanical.
Sobek said angrily:
‘The trouble is that I am not trusted. My father is an old man, absurdly old-fashioned in his ideas, and he insists on dictating every single action here–he will not leave things to my judgement.’
Kait shook her head and murmured vaguely:
‘Yes, yes, it is too bad.’
‘If only Yahmose had a little more spirit and would back me up there might be some hope of making my father see reason. But Yahmose is so timid. He carries out every single instruction my father gives him to the letter.’
Kait jingled some beads at the child and murmured:
‘Yes, that is true.’
‘In this matter of the timber I shall tell my father when he comes that I used my judgement. It was far better to take the price in flax and not in oil.’
‘I am sure you are right.’
‘But my father is as obstinate over having his own way as anyone can be. He will make an outcry, will shout out, “I told you to transact the business in oil. Everything is done wrong when I am not here. You are a foolish boy who knows nothing!” How old does he think I am? He doesn’t realize that I am now a man in my prime and he is past his. His instructions and his refusals to sanction any unusual transactions mean that we do not do nearly as good business as we might do. To attain riches it is necessary to take a few risks. I have vision and courage. My father has neither.’
Her eyes on the child, Kait murmured softly:
‘You are so bold and so clever, Sobek.’
‘But he shall hear some truths this time