Page 104 of A Christmas Celebration
‘I think I’d better start from where we broke off in The Mermaid on the night of the switch-on, when you fell ill,’ he began.
I tried not to think of the time I had wasted as a result of my phantom ailment.
‘There was so much more I wanted to share with you then…’ His words trailed off as he stared at the flames dancing behind the door of the fire.
‘Go on,’ I encouraged because I couldn’t wait to hear it now.
‘Well,’ he said, his gaze returning to mine, ‘as you may remember, I had got as far as telling you that I had reluctantly followed the family career path my father had so desperately wanted me to take.’
‘The money-making family career path, you mean,’ I said disparagingly, confirming that I had far from forgotten.
‘Yes,’ he sighed, shaking his head, ‘that was the one. There was something else I wanted to do, but my father made it very clear that if I pursued that, then I would never gain his approval and at the time, I wanted that more than anything else.’
I couldn’t help thinking how what he said mirrored some of the words Albert had spoken during the evening we’d spent together at the hall.
‘Therefore,’ Brodie continued, ‘when I reached the age where I had to make those educational decisions that would shape my future, I took the only option which would gain his support.’
‘That can’t have been easy,’ I swallowed, feeling a relatively surprising pang of sympathy.
‘It broke my heart,’ Brodie said sadly, ‘but,’ he then added, ‘the fact that I turned out to have an aptitude for investment softened the blow.’
My compassion ebbed away somewhat when he said that.
‘My portfolio quickly grew beyond all expectation,’ he carried on, ‘and my father did indeed respect me. And it was that which made me believe that my sacrifice had been worth it and that the lifestyle I had immersed myself in as a result was the one I wanted.’
I imagined it was one of fast cars, long haul holidays and extortionate city living.
‘So, I’m guessing you made a lot of money?’ I pointlessly asked.
‘During the next few years, I made a fortune,’ he confirmed. ‘Millions, both for myself and my clients.’
‘Then you’re a very rich man,’ I said sniffily, imagining him and his work buddies living on the proceeds which had previously been assigned to the charity I had worked for. ‘Congratulations,’ I added scathingly thinking how much better that money could have been spent, even though the charity only ever received a fraction of it.
Brodie laughed and shook his head, apparently not catching my sarcastic tone.
‘In some ways I am rich,’ he said, ‘but not in others and that’s mostly down to Jack.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Things began to change for me the day he called to tell me he was starting up his own distillery,’ Brodie elaborated. ‘He’d been working in the industry for a while with ambitions to go it alone and suddenly, Brambles was happening.’
‘Go on.’
‘I started to travel up from London to help him at the weekends,’ he then surprised me by saying, ‘and I soon saw something in Jack’s life that was lacking in mine.’
‘An empty bank account?’ I suggested.
‘Passion,’ Brodie corrected, looking at me so intently, I felt my cheeks flush. ‘Jack had found something which made him so happy and that he believed in so deeply, it had become his life’s purpose. I knew I’d felt like that about something once, and before you say it,’ he quickly added, ‘it wasn’t money.’
‘What was it then?’ I asked, wanting him to spell it out.
‘Painting,’ he said, looking around the studio. ‘That was what I’d given up when I chose a business degree over artschool. In my effort to keep my father happy, I’d set aside my heart’s desire and replaced it with pounds and pence. For a while, I’d become as obsessed as he was, but the scales fell as I watched my brother create something he truly loved.’
‘I see,’ I swallowed, now completely absorbed and momentarily forgetting how his lavish lifestyle had impacted on my infinitely more frugal one. ‘So, what did you do? After Jack’s wake-up call, what came next?’
‘Nothing,’ he sighed, ‘and it drove Jack to distraction.’
‘Knowing Jack,’ I said, ‘I can imagine it would.’
