‘Did he make you join his firm?’
‘He suggested it, and what Roscoe “suggests” tends to happen.’
‘Couldn’t you have held out against him? ‘
‘I suppose. Actually, I feel a bit guilty about Roscoe. I get mad at him, but I do know the truth.’
‘Which is?’
‘That he’s always had the rough end of the stick. I think Mum blames him for Dad’s death, not openly but she says things like, “If only he hadn’t been so tired that day, he might not have crashed.” And she says other things—so that I just know she thinks Roscoe wasn’t pulling his weight.’
‘Do you believe that?’
‘No, not now I’m in the firm and know a bit about how it works. Roscoe was the same age I am now, still learning the business, and there was only so much he could have done. And I’ve talked to people who were there at that time and they all say there was a big crash coming, and nobody could believe “that kid” could avoid it.’
‘“That kid,”’ she murmured. ‘It’s hard to see him like that.’
‘I know, but that’s how they thought of him back then. And they were all astounded when he got them through. I respect him—you have to—but I can see what it made him. Sometimes I feel guilty. He saved the rest of us but it damaged him terribly, and Mum just blames him because…well…’
‘Maybe she needs someone to blame,’ Pippa suggested gently.
‘Something like that. And it’s so unfair that I feel sorry for him. Hey, don’t tell him I said that. He’d murder me!’
‘And then he’d murder me’ she agreed. ‘Promise.’ She laid a finger over her lips.
‘The reason I don’t deal with Roscoe very well is that I’m always in two minds about him. I admire him to bits for what he’s achieved in the firm, and the way he puts up with Mum’s behaviour without complaining.’
‘Does he mind about her very much?’
‘Oh, yes. He doesn’t say anything but I see his face sometimes, and it hurts him.’
‘Have you tried talking to him about it?’
‘Yes, and I’ve been slapped down. He shuts it away inside himself, and I resent that. He’s been a good brother to me, but he won’t let me be a good brother to him. That’s what I was saying; one moment I admire him and sympathise with him. The next moment I want to thump him for being a tyrant. I’m afraid his tyrant side outweighs the other one by about ten to one.’
‘If you weren’t a stockbroker, what would you have liked to do?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know. Something colourful where I didn’t have to wear a formal suit.’ He gave a comical sigh. ‘I guess I’m just a lost cause.’
She smiled, feeling as sympathetic as she would have done with a younger brother. Beneath the frivolous boy, she could detect the makings of a generous, thoughtful man with, strangely, a lot in common with his brother. Charlie wasn’t the weakling she’d first thought. He had much inner strength. It was just a different kind of strength from Roscoe.
‘You’re not a lost cause,’ she said, reaching over the table and laying her hands on his shoulders. ‘I say you’re not, and what I say goes.’
He grinned. ‘Now you sound just like Roscoe.’
‘Well, I am like Roscoe.’ Briefly, she enclosed his face between her hands. ‘He’s not the only one who can give orders, and my orders to you are to cheer up because I’m going to make things all right.’
She dropped her hands but gave him a comforting sisterly smile.
‘D’you know, I really believe you can,’ he mused. ‘I think you could take on even Roscoe and win.’
‘Well, somewhere in this world there has to be someone who can crush him beneath her heels.’
‘His fiancée couldn’t.’
‘His fiancée?’ Pippa echoed, startled. Since learning that Roscoe lived alone, she had somehow never connected him with romantic entanglements.
‘It was a few years back. Her name was Verity and she was terribly “suitable”. She worked in the firm, and Roscoe used to say that she knew as much about finance as he did.’
‘I dare say she’d need to,’ Pippa said, nodding.
‘Right. It makes you wonder what they talked about when they were alone. The latest exchange rate? What the Dow-Jones index was doing?’
‘What did she look like?’
‘Pretty enough, but I think it was chiefly her mental qualities he admired.’
‘Charlie, a man doesn’t ask a woman to marry him because of her mental qualities.’
‘Roscoe isn’t like other men. Beauty passes him by.’
‘Then why did you warn me against going up to his room yesterday?’
‘I was only joking. I knew he had no interest in you that way. Don’t you remember? He said so himself.’
‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘He did, didn’t he?’
After that, she relapsed into thought.
Another bottle of wine was served and Charlie drank deeply, making Pippa glad he wasn’t driving.
‘Was he very much in love with her?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know. Like I said, he doesn’t talk about his feelings. He wanted her in his way. The rest of us look at a beautiful woman and think Wow! Roscoe thinks, Will she do me credit? I don’t think he’s ever thought Wow! in his life.’
Oh, yes, he has, she thought, gazing silently into her glass.
Noticing nothing, Charlie continued, ‘She could be relied on to know what was important—money, propriety, making the world bow down before you. And she’d give him intelligent children who would eventually go into the business. What more could he want?’
‘Surely you’re being unfair?’
‘Well, losing her didn’t seem to break his heart. He didn’t even tell us at the time. One day I mentioned that we hadn’t seen her for a while and then he said they’d broken up weeks ago. Any normal man would drown his sorrows in the pub with his mates, but not him. He just fired her and she ceased to exist.’
‘He actually fired her?’ Pippa was startled.
‘Well, he said she’d left the firm, but I reckon he made her understand that she’d better leave.’
She felt as though someone had struck her over the heart, which was surely absurd? From the start, she’d sensed that Roscoe was a harsh, controlling man, indifferent to the feelings of others as long as his rule was unchallenged. So why should she care if her worst opinion was confirmed?
Because she’d also thought she saw another side to him—warmer, more human. And because Charlie himself had spoken of that softer side. But the moment had passed. Charlie had switched back from the sympathetic brother to the rebellious kid, and in doing so he’d changed the light on Roscoe who was now, once more, the tyrant.
She knew a glimmer of sadness, but suppressed it. Much better to be realistic.
It was time for the cabaret. Dancers skipped across the stage, a crooner crooned, a comedian strutted his stuff. She thought him fairly amusing but Charlie was more critical.
‘His performance was a mess,’ he said as the space was