Free The Master of Rain by Tom Bradby

for her.”

    “She’s all right, thank you. You know how things are.”

    He nodded. “I keep trying to send her money, but . . .”

    “She won’t take it. It’s good of you to try.” Field sipped his gin. “I’m so sorry about . . . I know it’s a long time ago now, but Mother told me . . .” Field pointed to his uncle’s leg.

    “Can’t be helped.” Geoffrey’s smile became somber. “I miss your mother. I’ve never held with all this nonsense from the rest of the family. I’m rather sorry I’ve been so far away.” His face was full of the compassion of a man who understands suffering. “I was, of course, sorry to hear about your father. Is your mother . . . is she all right—financially, I mean?”

    Field did not know what he should say, or what his mother would want him to.

    “Don’t worry,” Geoffrey said, touching Field’s shoulder. “I’ll have another go at her.” He took out a packet of cigarettes. Field didn’t feel like smoking, but wanted to be sociable, so accepted one when it was offered. “I never quite gathered,” Geoffrey went on, “and it’s difficult to write to your mother about it. But the final verdict was suicide?”

    “Yes.” Field nodded, taking a drag of his cigarette.

    “It was the business . . . the bankruptcy?”

    Field hesitated. “Yes, I suppose so.”

    “It was you who found him?”

    “Yes. It was.”

    “Sorry. Probably crass of me to talk about it.”

    “No, really . . .”

    Geoffrey was staring at his hand. “He was a good man, your father.”

    Field didn’t answer.

    “Quite tough, I suppose, but his heart was in the right place.”

    Field sensed some reaction was expected of him. He shrugged.

    “Sorry, not my business, Richard.”

    “It’s the family’s business.”

    “Jolly tough if luck goes against you. That’s all life is, Richard, the merry-go-round of fate. I believe they loved each other, and in better circumstances, things might have been very different.”

    “But we have to live with the circumstances we are presented with.”

    Geoffrey looked embarrassed. “He was tough on you, I know. Or so it’s been said. But not for want of affection, I’m sure.”

    Field felt his face reddening.

    “I’m sorry, truly. None of my business. It’s just . . . so easy to get out of touch. That is the one trouble of being away. It’s hard to bridge the miles that separate us.” He cleared his throat. “The letter from your mother was a little odd, in fact.”

    Field frowned.

    “Said she was worried you would take advantage of our position and . . . you know, I’m only mentioning it because it’s a load of bloody nonsense. You’re family, so of course, we’ll help you in any way we can.”

    “I can assure you . . .”

    “Don’t be silly, man.” Field could see there was steel in his uncle’s eyes. “You’re thousands of miles from home in a strange city. Of course, it’s an absolute pleasure for us to have a link . . . I only mention it because it worried me. I’ve never held, as I said, with this marrying-beneath-yourself business—your father was a fine man and I’m just concerned it may have got to her in a way I’d not envisaged.”

    “There’s no need to worry. She’s fine.”

    Geoffrey patted his shoulder, smiling again. “Said they’d wanted you to be a missionary.”

    Field smiled back. “I don’t think there was much danger of that.”

    “Thank God we’ve got you out here.”

    A man in a white linen suit appeared through the swinging doors and made his way toward them. He moved with an easy, athletic gait. He ran a hand through his blond hair.

    “Geoffrey.”

    Field saw that his uncle’s smile of welcome was wary. “Charles. This is Richard Field, my sister’s boy. Richard, Charles Lewis, taipan of Fraser’s, Shanghai’s biggest trading company.”

    Lewis’s handshake was firm, a smile breaking the handsome solemnity of his face. He was about Field’s height, but