"Perhaps he already knows," said Becky.
"Then he surely would have asked—"
"Not necessarily. He's always been so secretive in the past, especially when dealing with us."
The rehearsal continued until they had reached the outskirts of the city.
Charlie drove slowly down the Backs past Queens College, avoiding a bunch of undergraduates who had strayed onto the road, and finally right into Trinity Lane. He brought his car to a halt in New Court and he and Becky walked across to entrance C and on up the worn stone staircase until they reached the door with "Dr. Daniel Trumper" painted above it. It always amused Becky that she hadn't even discovered that her son had been awarded his Ph.D. until someone addressed him as Dr. Trumper in her presence.
Charlie gripped his wife's hand. "Don't worry, Becky," he said. "Everything will be all right, you'll see." He gave her fingers a squeeze before knocking firmly on Daniel's door.
"Come on in," shouted a voice that could only have been Daniel's. The next moment he pulled open the heavy oak door to greet them. He gave his mother a huge hug before ushering them both through to his untidy little study where tea was already laid out on a table in the center of the room.
Charlie and Becky sat down in two of the large and battered leather chairs the college had provided. They had probably been owned by the past six inhabitants of the room, and brought back memories for Becky of the chair that she had once removed from Charlie's home in Whitechapel Road and sold for a shilling.
Daniel poured them both a cup of tea and began to toast a crumpet over the open fire. Nobody spoke for some time and Becky wondered where her son had come across such a modern cashmere sweater.
"Good journey down?" Daniel asked eventually.
"Not bad," said Charlie.
"And how's the new car running in?"
"Fine."
"And Trumper's?"
"Could be worse."
"Quite a little conversationalist, aren't you, Dad? You ought to apply for the recently vacated chair of professor of English."
"Sorry, Daniel," said his mother. "It's just that he's got rather a lot on his mind at the moment, not least the subject we have to discuss with you."
"Couldn't be better timing," said Daniel, turning the crumpet over.
"Why's that?" asked Charlie.
"Because, as I warned you, there's something rather important I have to discuss with you. So who goes first?"
"Let's hear your news," said Becky quickly.
"No, I think it might be wise if we went first," Charlie intervened.
"Suits me." Daniel dropped a toasted crumpet onto his mother's plate. "Butter, jam and honey," he added, pointing to three small dishes that rested on the table in front of her.
"Thank you, darling," said Becky.
"Get on with it then, Dad. The tension's becoming too much for me to bear." He turned a second crumpet over.
"Well, my news concerns a matter we should have told you about many years ago and indeed would have done so only—"
"Crumpet, Dad?"
"Thank you," said Charlie, ignoring the steaming offering that Daniel dropped onto his plate, "—circumstances and a chain of events somehow stopped us from getting round to it."
Daniel placed a third crumpet on the end of his long toasting fork. "Eat up, Mum," he said. "Otherwise yours will only get cold. In any case, there'll be another one on its way soon."
"I'm not all that hungry," admitted Becky.
"Well, as I was saying," said Charlie. "A problem has arisen concerning a large inheritance that you will eventually—"
There was a knock on the door. Becky looked desperately towards Charlie, hoping that the interruption was nothing more than a message that could be dealt with quickly. What they didn't need at that moment was an undergraduate with an interminable problem. Daniel rose from the hearth and went over to the door.
"Come in, darling," they heard him say and Charlie stood up as Daniel's guest entered the room.
"How nice to see you, Cathy," Charlie said. "I had no idea you were going to be in Cambridge today."
"Isn't that typical of Daniel," said Cathy. "I wanted to warn you both, but he wouldn't hear of it." She smiled nervously at Becky before sitting down in one of the vacant chairs.
Becky glanced across at the two of them seated next to each other—something worried her.
"Pour yourself some tea, darling," said Daniel. "You're just in time for the next crumpet and you couldn't have arrived at a more exciting moment. Dad was just about to let me into the secret of how much I might expect to be left in his will. Am I to inherit the Trumper empire or shall I have lo be satisfied with his season ticket to the West Ham Football Club?"
"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Cathy, half rising from her seat.
"No, no," said Charlie, waving her back down. "Don't be silly, it wasn't that important. Our news can wait until later."
"They're very hot, so watch it," said Daniel, dropping a crumpet onto Cathy's plate. "Well, if my inheritance is of such monumental insignificance then I shall have to impart my own little piece of news first. Roll of drums, curtain up opening line"—Daniel raised the toasting fork as if it were a baton—"Cathy and I are engaged to be married."
"I don't believe it," said Becky, immediately springing up from her chair to hug Cathy in delight. "What wonderful news."
"How long has this been going on?" asked Charlie. "I must have been blind."
"Nearly two years," admitted Daniel. "And to be fair, Dad, even you couldn't expect to have a telescope capable of focusing on Cambridge every weekend. I'll let you into another little secret: Cathy wouldn't allow me to tell you until Mum had invited her to join the management committee."
"As someone who's always been a dealer, my boy," said Charlie, beaming, "I can tell you you've got the better of this bargain." Daniel grinned. "In fact, I think Cathy's probably been shortchanged. But when did all this happen?"
"We met at your housewarming party. You won't remember, Sir Charles, but we bumped into each other on the stairs," Cathy said, nervously fingering the little cross that hung around her neck.
"Of course I remember and please call me Charlie. Everyone else does."
"So have you decided on a date?" asked Becky.
"We were planning to be married during the Easter vacation," said Daniel. "If that suits you?"
"Next week suits me," said Charlie. "I couldn't be happier. And where do you plan to hold the wedding?"
"The College Chapel," said Daniel without hesitation. "You see, both Cathy's parents are dead so we thought down here in Cambridge might be best, in the circumstances."
"And where will you live?" asked Becky.
"Ah, that all depends," said Daniel mysteriously.
"On what?" asked Charlie.
"I've applied for a chair in mathematics at King's, London—and I'm reliably informed that their choice will be announced to the world in two weeks' time."
"Are you at all hopeful?" asked Becky.
"Well, let me put it this way," said Daniel. "The provost has asked me to have dinner with him next Thursday at his lodgings, and as I've never set eyes on the gentleman in question before—" He broke off as the telephone interrupted his flow.
"Now, whoever can that be?" he asked rhetorically. "The monsters don't usually bother me on a Sunday." He picked up the receiver and listened for a moment.
"Yes, she is," he said after a few more seconds. "May I say who's calling? I'll let her know." He turned to face his mother. "Mr. Baverstock for you, Mum."
Becky pushed herself out of her chair and took the telephone from Daniel as Charlie looked on apprehensively.
"Is that you, Lady Trumper?"
"Yes, it is."
"Baverstock here. I'll be brief. But first, have you informed Daniel about the details of Sir Raymond's will?"