Night Over Water - Ken Follett [157]
“He always said the children of rich men were normally bad businessmen because they weren’t hungry. He was really worried about it—thought you might throw away everything he’d earned.”
“He never told me he felt that way,” she said suspiciously.
“That’s why he set things up so you’d fight one another. He brought you up to take control after his death, but he never put you in place; and he told Peter it would be his job to run the company. That way you’d have to fight it out, and the toughest would come out on top.”
“I don’t believe this,” Nancy said; but she was not as sure as she sounded. Danny was angry because he had been outmaneuvered, so he was being nasty to relieve his feelings; but that did not prove he was lying. She felt chilled.
“Believe what you like,” Danny said. “I’m telling you what your father told me.”
“Pa told Peter he wanted him to be chairman?”
“Sure he did. If you don’t believe me, ask Peter.”
“If I didn’t believe you, I wouldn’t believe Peter.”
“Nancy, I first met you when you were two days old,” Danny said, and there was a new, weary note in his voice. “I’ve known you all your life and most of mine. You’re a good person with a hard streak, like your father. I don’t want to fight with you over business, or anything else. I’m sorry I brought this up.”
Now she believed him. He sounded genuinely regretful, and that made her think he was sincere. She was shocked by his revelation, and felt weak and a little dizzy. She said nothing for a moment, trying to recover her composure.
“I guess I’ll see you at the board meeting,” Danny said.
“Okay,” she said.
“’Bye, Nancy.”
“’Bye, Danny.” She hung up.
Mervyn said: “By God, you were brilliant!”
She smiled thinly. “Thanks.”
He laughed. “I mean, the way you worked him around—he never stood a chance! The poor beggar never knew what hit him—”
“Oh, shut up,” she said.
Mervyn looked as if she had slapped him. “Whatever you say,” he said tightly.
She was sorry right away. “Forgive me,” she said, touching his arm. “At the end Danny said something that shocked me.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked cautiously.
“He says my father set up this fight between me and Peter so that the toughest would end up running the company.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I do. That’s the terrible thing. It really rings true. I’ve never thought about it before, but it explains a lot of things about me and my brother.”
He took her hand. “You’re upset.”
“Yeah.” She stroked the sparse black hair on the backs of his fingers. “I feel like a character in a motion picture, acting out a scenario that was written by someone else. I’ve been manipulated for years, and I resent it. I’m not even sure I want to win this fight with Peter, now that I know how I was set up.”
He nodded understandingly. “What would you like to do?”
The answer came to her as soon as he asked the question. “I’d like to write my own script—that’s what I’d like to do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Harry Marks was so happy he could hardly move.
He lay in bed remembering every moment of the night: the sudden thrill of pleasure when Margaret had kissed him; the anxiety as he worked up the courage to make a pass at her; the disappointment when she turned him down; and the amazement and delight when she had jumped into his bunk like a rabbit diving into its hole.
He cringed as he remembered how he had come the moment she touched him. This always happened to him the first time with a new girl: he had not owned up to it. It was humiliating. One girl had been scornful and mocked him. Mercifully, Margaret had not been disappointed or frustrated. In a funny way she had been aroused by it. Anyway, she had been happy in the end. So had he.
He could hardly believe his luck. He was not clever, he had no money, and he did not come from the right social class. He was a complete