Ragamuffin Angel (26 page)
‘I remain, Sir, your obedient servant.’
There was no signature.
The start Harold gave as the door opened in the next instant was noticeable, and as he stuffed the letter under his big blotting pad Colonel Fairley’s voice brought his head jerking upwards, whereupon Harold expelled a long slow sigh of relief.
‘What’re you looking so guilty for, m’boy?’ the Colonel enquired genially, his small eyes moving to the comer of the paper which was poking out of the side of the blotter. ‘You’ve got to do better than that if you want to fool the wife, you know.’
‘It’s nothing like that.’ Harold was flustered and it showed. ‘Good gracious, I’d as soon. . . No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just – well, I’ve got the dickens of a problem to tell you the truth, and I’m not sure what to make of it.’
‘Lucy know?’ The Colonel wasn’t overfond of Harold’s wife; she was one of those women who had a mind of their own, in the Colonel’s opinion, and subsequently were more trouble than they were worth. But Harold thought a bit of her and so the Colonel kept his thoughts to himself.
‘Well that’s the thing you see, that’s what makes this all the more difficult. Lucy likes the girl, she likes and admires her very much, and I have to say I thought the same way myself until. . . But I have to think of Lucy though, I can’t have her exposed to any sort of unpleasantness, can I?’
‘Are you going to continue to talk in riddles or show me that damn thing you’re hiding?’
‘Oh, oh yes, of course. I’m sorry.’ Harold thrust the piece of paper at the stout figure by the side of him as though it was something unclean, which in a way he felt it was. What sort of person wrote something like this without signing their name at the bottom of it? he asked himself grimly. This was malicious and nasty, very nasty, but he couldn’t ignore it. Much as he would like to, he couldn’t ignore it.
There was silence while the Colonel surveyed the neat words covering the fine linen paper, and when the Colonel broke it his voice was casual, even unconcerned, as he advised Harold to do the very thing the younger man had been telling himself was impossible. ‘Ignore it.’ The Colonel narrowed his eyes as he inclined his head to emphasise the words. ‘If you want my opinion, ignore it. You can bet there’s a jealous woman behind this, m’boy, a girlfriend or even a wife who’s had her nose put out of joint in some way. Women can be the very devil. Have you had any cause for concern with the little filly in question?’
‘No, none. She’s never put a foot wrong.’
‘There you are then. Storm in a teacup, m’boy, storm in a teacup. Give it a day or two and you’ll have forgotten all about it, eh? No sense in upsetting the gel or Lucy with something like this now then.’
‘But. . . but if I don’t do something, at least have the girl in here and ask for an explanation, and something happens. . .’
‘What could happen? Ask yourself that, there’s a good fellow. The bounder who wrote the letter isn’t going to come forward now then, not if they haven’t signed it in the first place, and who’s to say you’ve ever received it? If you show it to the gel and she gets all upset like women do, Lucy isn’t going to appreciate it, and if you say the gel’s a good worker . . . Burn it, boy, eh?’ The Colonel walked across to the blazing fire, extending his arm as he raised his eyebrows enquiringly. ‘Eh? Burn it and forget about it, that’s my advice.’
‘Well. . .’ Harold hesitated. ‘If you really think I should.’
‘No question about it, m’boy. Good advice, what?’ So saying the Colonel dropped the piece of paper into the fire where it flared briefly before being consumed by the flames. ‘That’s the ticket. Nasty business but all forgotten.’
Harold nodded, his face clearing. ‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right.’ And then more strongly, ‘Yes, I’m sure you are. Thanks, Reginald.’
‘Pleasure, m’boy. Pleasure. Glad to have helped.’
The Colonel seated himself in the other leather chair after bringing it close to the fire, as Harold went back to his paperwork. He lit his pipe and took a few puffs before reaching down to the hearth and picking up a magazine,
Good Hounds and Hunting,
which he had placed there the day before. But although he had it open on his lap he wasn’t reading it. Who would have thought it? The cunning little baggage! And her so hoity-toity with him too. But if she’d bigger fish to fry. . . Oh, she was a crafty one all right, but fetching. Very fetching. He felt his body stir and breathed in deeply. And he would make sure she knew what she owed him. He expected her to be grateful to him – very grateful – for saving her bacon. The bulge in his trousers was as hard as a rock and he moved slightly, adjusting his position in the chair. Yes, he was looking forward to this. There was something about Miss Connie Bell that got hold of a fellow.
Good Hounds and Hunting,
which he had placed there the day before. But although he had it open on his lap he wasn’t reading it. Who would have thought it? The cunning little baggage! And her so hoity-toity with him too. But if she’d bigger fish to fry. . . Oh, she was a crafty one all right, but fetching. Very fetching. He felt his body stir and breathed in deeply. And he would make sure she knew what she owed him. He expected her to be grateful to him – very grateful – for saving her bacon. The bulge in his trousers was as hard as a rock and he moved slightly, adjusting his position in the chair. Yes, he was looking forward to this. There was something about Miss Connie Bell that got hold of a fellow.
‘You think I’m mad, don’t you, saying I want to see her again after all that’s happened? Be honest, Gladys. You do, don’t you.’
‘Dan, of all people you should know Art and I understand. Look what we had to go through when we first started walking out. Your mam went mad, clean mad, I tell you.’
‘Aye, I know you had a time of it and I’m not making light of that, but this is a bit different, isn’t it. At least you wanted Art, it wasn’t one-sided.’
Yes, this was different. Gladys turned from the parlour window where she and Dan had been standing looking out into the square which was shadowed and still in the winter afternoon. The lamplighter would be round soon and the square looked beautiful when it was lit up. It was her favourite time of the day – twilight – since they had moved to this lovely house next to West Park off Park Road a year ago.
‘You can’t blame her for feeling the way she does, Dan,’ Gladys said softly as she walked across the room and busied herself poking the fire into a blaze. It was bitterly cold outside, the frost already glittering on the snow which had fallen earlier and the pale light of the dying day turning the bare trees into something beautiful against the silver/gold sky. ‘It must have been a terrible experience for a young lass like she was then to have seen such violence, and it sounds like everything went from bad to worse from that point on.’
‘Aye, I know, lass. I know.’ Dan flung himself into a plumply stuffed armchair, raking back his dark hair with an impatient hand. He knew all that, of course he did, but that didn’t exactly help
now,
did it!
now,
did it!
And as though she had picked up on the thought, Gladys said quietly, ‘Go and see her if that’s what your heart is telling you to do. You’re going to do it anyway, I don’t know why we’re even having this conversation.’
‘Am I that transparent?’ He grinned at her, and Gladys smiled back as she said, ‘Aye, you and your brother an’ all. How were things before you left the works today?’
‘Strained,’ said Dan cryptically. He had known it was going to be awkward when he and Art went in to work on Monday and he hadn’t been wrong. His father’s will had left the controlling share of the business to Edith, with the rest distributed equally between the five brothers, and to give his mother her due she rarely came to the works or interfered in the daily running of the business. But that didn’t stop John from acting as though he was in control of it all, even though he hadn’t got the business head their father had had. Art was much better in that respect. The specialities of the firm, which met with a continually extending sale, embraced high-class marine engine, cylinder and burning oils, and these were constantly in use by some of the most important steamship lines in the kingdom. Art had arranged that deliveries to any port were greatly accelerated by special railway arrangements to secure speedy shipment.
In addition to their oil specialities, their father had set things up so that the firm held heavy stocks of white lead, zinc white, coloured paints and varnishes, and so on, so that prompt delivery could be guaranteed to the various large works in the district at all times. All in all a most extensive trade had been established together with a well-earned reputation for honourable dealings, although more than once since their father’s demise Dan and Art had had to prevent John taking ‘short-cuts’, which were not only illegal but dangerous and unnecessary. This applied particularly to the heavy goods and ships’ provisions stored in the warehouses, and when one considered that Henry Stewart & Co. were on the Government list and held a contract for the War Office, it was sheer foolishness to attempt to sail too close to the wind. But you couldn’t tell John anything. It was confrontation all the time with his eldest brother, and he knew Art was as weary of it as he was.
‘Well you two hold on in there.’ Gladys’s voice was urgent now. ‘John would just love it if the pair of you threw in the towel and let your mam buy you out, and that wasn’t what your da worked all the hours of the night and day for, was it. He wanted the business for all of you.’
‘Aye.’ Dan stretched out his legs and sighed deeply. ‘He was a good man, my father, Gladys. A canny businessman but a nice bloke too.’
‘I know that. You and Art are like him.’
‘Oh aye?’ Art had just entered the room and caught the last piece of the conversation and now he grinned at his wife, his eyes twinkling. ‘Well, if we’re so perfect and such a good pair of blokes, why isn’t the tea on the table, wench? Eh? You answer me that.’
‘Oh you.’ Gladys pushed at her husband as she spoke, but she was relieved at his bantering tone. He was carrying a heavy load and it was weighing him down, and she didn’t really know how to help him except to be there for him. What with all the talk of the build up of arms in western Europe – ‘organised insanity’ as Lloyd George called it – fuelling fears of possible war, this last altercation with his mother, which had reached new heights once Art had learnt from John his mother was holding him mainly responsible for Dan not returning home, the constant pressure of the business and the hundred and one other problems connected with life in general, Art was not himself. And although she would never let on to Dan, she knew that this lass, Connie Bell, turning up again had brought all the guilt from the past surging back too. Art had never forgiven himself for what had occurred at the house in the wood all those years ago, or the ramifications of the attack which had led to his father’s death and Jacob’s suicide. She knew now it would haunt her husband to his dying day.
Gladys shivered suddenly, in spite of the warmth of the room, but her voice was ordinary sounding when she said, ‘We’re not having much the night so I warn you two. There’ll be plenty to eat later and I want everyone to tuck in then. Art’ – she paused, reaching out her hand and touching her husband’s arm as she passed – ‘you are absolutely sure you don’t want to go to your mam’s do tonight? I’ve only asked the neighbours and Ray and Martha and their brood to come in, so I can easily call it off if you’ve changed your mind?’
‘We’re staying put, lass. The others’ll go to Mam’s, and she’ll have all her fancy friends like she normally does, but I couldn’t stomach being there and neither could Dan. Right, lad?’
‘Too true.’ Dan’s voice was as grim as Art’s face, and Gladys nodded at them both as she said, ‘All right then, if you’re sure. David and Catherine will love having Ray and Martha’s bairns to play with, they’ve been beside themselves with excitement since I said we were seeing the New Year in here with a little party.’
‘Aye, well we should have done it years ago,’ said Art bitterly. ‘The times I’d have preferred to stay by me own fireside, but out we’ve trotted to answer the royal summons. No more, lass, I’m telling you, no more. That’s all done with, whatever you say about family harmony and the rest. Christmas and New Year, and Easter too, we’re staying here.’
‘All right, all right, don’t go on.’
As Gladys bustled out of the room the two men exchanged a wry smile, and when the door had closed behind the big, thick-set woman, Art murmured quietly, ‘She’s one of the best and no mistake.’
‘Aye, man, I’d agree with you there.’ Dan had always been aware of the special relationship between Art and his wife – special within the folds of his family anyway – but it wasn’t until he had come to live with them a week ago that he had realised he deeply envied them too. They loved each other. And it wasn’t just that they were well set up; if Art was a docker or a miner up to his eyes in filth and muck all day and sweating to provide bone broth or scraps of pot stuff, Gladys would still worship the ground he walked on. And that was what he wanted. That feeling, that emotion that they had. He wanted that with the woman he married and he wouldn’t settle for anything less, even if he had to remain single for the rest of his life. And as though the two things were entwined in his mind, he found himself saying in the next moment, ‘I’m going to go and see her the night, Art. I can’t go in to the New Year without knowing if I stand any chance at all.’
Art didn’t have to ask to whom his brother was referring, but what he did say, his voice low but purposely expressionless, was, ‘You know what it will mean? If she agrees to take up with you, that is. Are you prepared for the backlash?’
Dan was silent for a moment and then he nodded, his voice faintly embarrassed as he said, ‘I can’t get her out of my mind, Art, and not just because she’s bonny. It’s more than that. I can’t explain it but from the minute I saw her again it was like I’d been waiting for that moment for years without recognising the fact, but then I knew. In an instant I knew. Oh’ – he rubbed his face, his tone irritable – ‘I can’t put it into words.’
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