"And where would that leave me, and my mother?" asked Catriona, keeping her voice controlled.
Philip twisted around and smiled at her. "I can't say that I care. I'm sorry. Sibling jealousy, I suppose. You never worked for him. You didn't spend five years of your life greasing propellor shafts and sorting out bills of lading, only to be disinherited and thrown out on your ear. You were always his darling favourite, weren't you? He talked about you all the time—how self-willed you were, how pretty you were. Well, he was right. But that didn't make it any easier for me to accept it. You were spoiled, in spite of your behaviour. The Flapper of the Seas, my God. And if you lose whatever he left you, it won't do you any harm at all. It didn't do me any harm, being disinherited; or if it did, it's too darned bad."
Catriona said, "What if I vote for selling out to IMM?"
Philip rocked with silent, over-exaggerated laughter. "Same thing, only worse! IMM will probably delay payment, almost indefinitely. George Welterman will think up some excuse; some contractual snag or other; or else he'll say that the Keys fleet was not up to the standard represented by you when you sold it to them. They'll prevent you from moving one single ship because they'll claim the transaction is under legal dispute, and then they'll sit back and gradually watch your ruination. They've done it before, and they'll do it again. In the end, you'll happily settle for a few million pounds, and that'll be the finish of it. All I can say is that at least if you do things my way the Arcadia will continue to cross the Atlantic, and most of our creditors will get a few pennies to remember Stanley Keys by; even if it's only two and six in the pound. That's something; and that's honour, if you can understand the meaning of the word."
"Mark Beeney doesn't know anything about this, does he?" asked Catriona. "I mean, he doesn't know why you're so keen to help him buy the Arcadia?"
Philip said nothing.
"I don't know why you bothered to intervene at all," said Catriona. "If George Welterman intends to ruin Keys anyway, why should it matter to you? You had your revenge when Father died. What more do you need?"
"I happen to own a few shares in Keys myself, and so do my friends. Nineteen per cent, altogether. I tried three years ago to take the company over, or at least have a powerful say in how it was managed. Well, that didn't really work out; but I don't intend to be utterly ruined when Keys collapses, and I don't want my friends ruined, either."
Catriona looked at him sceptically.
"Well, that's not the only reason," he said, less assertively. "I suppose the most important reason is that I don't want George Welterman to have the Arcadia."
"A ship built with stolen and borrowed money? Why should you care who has her?"
"You know as well as I do."
"Tell me." Catriona insisted.
Philip robbed his hand along the varnished rail. Standing as he was in the falling afternoon light, with his hair blowing in the breeze, he looked so much like his father that Catriona found herself attracted, and fascinated, as if this were all a peculiar dream. Even his voice, now that he was speaking so unselfconsciously, had the same cadence and bluntness.
"It's his ship, that's why; no matter how much I argued against him building it; no matter how much I disapproved of what he was doing with the Orange, and all those other ships. It's his ship, and she must run across the Atlantic, because if she doesn't, she'll die, and his whole life, the whole purpose of his whole life, will die right along beside her, inside her, with her. I don't believe in ghosts, Catriona; but the Arcadia is the ghost of Stanley Keys, if ever there was one. And his spirit, too."
He paused for a while, and then said, "It all sounds like rot, doesn't it? You probably think that I'm completely cuckoo."
"I don't think that," said Catriona passionately, 'I just don't understand what you want."
Philip said, "Your name's Keys, isn't it? For as long as you remain unmarried, anyway. Well, mine was never Keys, and it never can be. Father used to introduce me as the son of an old friend of his. Even Edgar Deacon never found out who I was. Father didn't want Doris to know, of course. I've never met her, but Father always used to tell me that she was very sensitive; and if she'd ever found out that Father had had an affair with Isabelle before they got married, not to mention an illegitimate son... Well, 'rocking the boat', that's what he used to call it. 'We'd better not rock the boat, old man'."
"Are you really so jealous of me?" Catriona asked him.
"I don't know. I don't think it's jealousy. It's just that I think that it's time for the name of Keys to be put to rest; at least as far as shipping's concerned. My name's Carter-Helm, Catriona. Carter, after the doctor who delivered me, and Helm after the helm of a ship. A proud name, don't you think?"
"Philip—" said Catriona.
"No," he said. "It's no damned use, is it? No damned use at all."
"Philip, listen. Supposing we don't sell out to IMM; supposing we don't sell the Arcadia to Mark Beeney, either; supposing we keep the company independent, and worked together to make it profitable, you and I, Philip. If she takes the Blue Riband, she'll be the most popular liner on the Atlantic. She's beautiful, anyway. You know that. Father must have believed there was a way to keep the company running. He must have, or else he wouldn't have invested so much money and so much time into the Arcadia."
Philip ran his hand through his hair. "You didn't even know him, did you? They should have called this ship the Megalomania, not the Arcadia. He didn't build it because he believed that the company could be saved by launching a huge new liner. It was nothing to do with economics. It was all to do with pride. And I think, in our different ways, we're both as proud as he was. Arrogant, too. My God, just listen to us."
Catriona said, "Philip, ever since I realised who you were I've been thinking this over and over. I want you to work with me, to make this company successful again. At least let's try it."
"In spite of what I was going to do to you?"
"You didn't know me then. Not face-to-face. You only knew me through Father. I can understand how you must have felt."
"Oh, can you?" said Philip, biting his lip. "Well, I don't really believe that you can. I'm sorry. Many regrets."
"Philip, if you don't help me, I'll have to sell Keys to IMM. I'll have to, whatever you say about them."
Philip said, "In that case, I'm very sorry."
"I have to think of the people who work for Keys, and Edgar said that at least they'll keep their jobs."
"If that's what you believe."
"Philip, don't be so bitter, please."
Philip turned towards her, and to Catriona's distress there were tears in his eyes. "You never got on with him, did you? Not that much. You scarcely knew him. Well, I did, or at least I thought I did. I worshipped the bloody man, if you'll excuse my French. I would have done anything for him. And then he wanted to build this bloody ship. It obsessed him; day and night he wouldn't talk about anything else. I think he would have murdered people to build this ship, and in the end I suppose he did in a way. He certainly murdered me. I hate this bloody ship; and yet I love her, too. I hate you, and I hate everything with the name Keys; and yet I feel pride when I see that flag flying with the cross keys on it. I wanted to persuade you to sell the Arcadia to Mark Beeney, just to save her; but, well, if you won't, then I think that's all there is to say."