Snow Angels (25 page)

Sleep deserted him. The cruel night showed him his dead wife and his father’s accusing face and the family that he had lost. The emptiness was such an ache and it didn’t go away. Gil watched the night turn into morning. Mornings were never as bad.

And this one wasn’t. Matthew came in and threw himself on the bed and laughed and Gil could not be sorry for everything because his son had come out of the liaison with Helen. There was nothing as precious in the world, in the whole of life, as a child and he had been lucky there. He and Matthew had a pillow fight and after that they went downstairs to have breakfast with Henderson. It was a ritual. Matthew would climb up onto Henderson’s knee and eat ham and eggs from Henderson’s plate. He liked it best when Henderson was having boiled eggs because he would have the top from the eggs, which he liked to scoop out of the shell. Then he would have soldiers, digging his bread and butter into the yolk so hard that it spurted out of the top. Henderson would cut small squares of ham and feed them to him.

After breakfast Gil and Henderson would go to work and here Gil felt safe and increasingly happy. He had thought the men in the drawing office would not accept him because of what he had done and it was true that nobody said much, but they had already known that he was skilled and capable and they respected his work. Each morning he and Henderson would sit in Henderson’s office and talk. One morning that winter they sat there watching snow falling softly on the shipyard beyond the window and Henderson said, ‘I want to build a big ship.’

Gil smiled.

‘What’s funny about it?’

‘Just that I thought you might. The place isn’t big enough.’

‘It could be. We have plenty of room.’

‘It would cost.’

‘If you got me the contract for a big ship, I would make you a partner.’

This was beyond generosity. Henderson got up, coffee cup in his hand, and looked out of the window at his domain.

‘You did it before.’

‘John Marlowe is a very respected man. He won’t have
anything to do with me and a lot of other people would go the same way if you made me a partner. You’ve given me a job, I’m grateful for that.’

‘If I died the shipyard would be sold, there’s nobody to take it on. I have this vision of me in a wooden box and Robert Bloody Surtees spending my money on drink and women.’

Gil didn’t return the straight look Henderson gave him.

‘Yes, he does,’ Henderson said, ‘dear bloody women. He would spend my money on high class whores and backing horses. Do you think I want that? He gambles too. I don’t like a man who gambles. Men are meant to work, not go on like that. I wish Abby had never married him. She isn’t happy. He didn’t even give her a son. If they’d had a son, everything would have been different and maybe I could have hung on long enough if he was a decent sort and liked ships. Na, that’s not true. No son of Robert’s could tell port from starboard on a Tuesday afternoon. What do they do, these men who care for nothing? How do they live? You have a son. I can’t say I’m overly impressed with how you got him, it was a sorry business, but he’s there and he’s going to be a good lad.’

‘He might want something else.’

‘Aye, he might, but in my experience things like business are in the blood and you can’t change that. Get me Marlowe’s next ship and I’ll give you a partnership.’

‘It would have to be better and faster than the
Northumbria.’

‘So tell him. You could have total planning control,’ he said as Gil hesitated.

‘If you made me a partner nobody would bother with you socially ever again.’

‘If we built a bigger ship than the
Northumbria
they would have to. Anyway, I don’t care about things like that. Tea and gossip, that’s all it is. I like my office and my own fireside. To hell with other people.’

*

Gil went to Allendale Town that winter to see if Jos Allsop was there but the big stone house was locked up and the curtains were pulled. He went into the nearest pub to make enquiries and found that, after Rhoda’s death, Jos had been crazy with grief and left and that Mrs Allsop had taken the children and gone back to her family in London where she had come from.

Gil walked the streets for a while until the next train came, but he hated every minute of it. The little town had not changed. He paused. Rhoda’s body was lying in the churchyard not far from the church where she had been married to him. He had not attended the funeral, had not felt the right to do so. People would have been shocked. He walked among the gravestones and picked it out, it was so new. They had put her unmarried name on the stone ‘Rhoda Carlisle, beloved daughter of Jos and Mary Allsop’. Beloved daughter of his. Rhoda would have hated that. And she would have wanted her father’s name on her grave. Gil wondered if her father had been the only person that Rhoda ever really loved. If there was heaven, then she would be with her father and possibly happier than she had been on earth, but he suspected that Rhoda was not far away, walking on her moors, her hair blowing in the cold wind. People were already saying that her ghost walked the moors. Gil could believe it. He went back to Newcastle in search of John Marlowe.

Marlowe was easier to find. He had offices in Newcastle. Gil had been prepared to make an appointment or even to be told that Mr Marlowe would not see him but after the secretary went through into the big office that belonged to him, the door opened immediately and John came out. He didn’t offer his hand, he just looked hard and said, ‘Gil. Come in.’

The office was luxurious: thick carpets, oak flooring, wide windows, heavy doors, a huge desk. It was the only office Gil had seen which was bigger than his father’s. John leaned back against the desk. He was a big man, heavy. He folded his arms across his massive chest and didn’t ask Gil to sit down. Gil stood with his hat in his hands and said nothing.

‘You’re a long time with your apologies, leaving my ship like that.’

‘It didn’t need me any more. All the important work had been done, it was just detail and the men were there to see to it. It’ll be fine. I have nothing to apologise for. Is she finished?’

‘Aye.’ John stood up straight. ‘The mightiest ship the Tyne has ever seen. I’m so proud of her and very angry with you.’

‘I know.’

‘Do you? The Admiralty was not pleased to have to deal with other men over this, that you turned out to be the kind of person who created the biggest scandal we’ve seen for years. This ship did not need any of that and neither did its backers.’

‘It’ll take the Blue Riband on its first voyage—’

‘You don’t know that!’

‘Yes, I do. You couldn’t have built that ship without me and you know it and they know it. You didn’t have the expertise. I guaranteed you that ship and all it could do, and it will.’

‘You’re very confident.’

‘I’m the best.’

John smiled grimly.

‘You’re the worst bastard I ever met but yes, you’re the best.’

‘So, have you given the second ship to somebody else?’

‘Not yet. Do you want her?’

‘What do I have to do?’

‘You could try living a respectable life, that would be nice.’

‘You don’t care, not really.’

‘The Admiralty cares.’

‘Sod the Admiralty.’

‘Henderson doesn’t have the shipyard to build it; he doesn’t have the people.’

‘He will have. He has space and money and me and I’ll get the people.’

‘From your father?’

‘If I have to.’

‘Business shouldn’t be this personal.’

‘As far as I’m concerned it’s always personal in some way. I’ll build you a better ship than the
Northumbria,
faster, cleaner, sleeker and in two years.’

*

Gil and Henderson walked around the site, the huge space of land around the shipyard. It was a cold blustery day, the wind coming off the Tyne. Gil paused.

‘Why did you buy all this land? I mean, it was a clever move but you might never have needed it.’

‘My father bought it.’

‘Very shrewd.’

‘He was a rich man, didn’t need to work but, unlike fools like Surtees, he liked to be involved in what mattered. And Bella had money. I would have kept it for Abby but she hardly needs it.’

‘She might.’

‘When’s this? He’s rolling.’

‘He’s gambling heavily so I hear.’

‘We’ll build a fine ship,’ Henderson said in satisfaction.

‘You’ll need housing. You’ll need new berths and sheds and cranes and—’

‘What’s all this “you”?’ Henderson said. ‘It’ll be us. I’m going to put your name on the gate.’

‘I’d rather you didn’t, it’ll upset Abby.’

*

Gil had other plans. He went to see Mr McGregor at home that Saturday afternoon. McGregor was a Glaswegian who had come from Scotland especially to work for William Collingwood. He was a top engineer; Gil could not have built the
Northumbria
without McGregor’s help. He was also a Methodist, a clean-living man who had been married for twenty years, didn’t touch a drink and had probably, Gil reflected standing in the middle of the living-room, never had such a person as himself in his house. Gil knew also that McGregor had admired his mind and it was
the only reason he had let him in. Mrs McGregor luckily wasn’t there.

There was no fire in the room and the smell of polish hung in the air. Gil could see his breath. Mr McGregor didn’t even offer him a cup of tea.

‘So,’ he said, eyeing Gil coldly, ‘what can I do for you?’

‘I need you.’

‘How?’

‘I’m going to build Marlowe another liner.’

‘Mr Marlowe cares more for money than for principles.’

‘I’m not talking about either of those things, I’m talking about expertise—’

‘I’ve worked for your father for fifteen years and you think you can walk in here and take me on like I was a docker?’

Gil paused.

‘May I sit down?’

‘You’ll not be here that long.’

Gil looked at him. He had spent months working alongside this man, their minds were in harmony.

‘I’m young. I made a mistake.’

McGregor glared at him.

‘A mistake?’

‘Have you not made any mistakes?’

‘Not of that calibre. My wife hasn’t taken her life because I lay with another woman. Dear God, man, what worse could you have done? Your father is … he’s … he was proud of you. Aye, he’s a hard man,’ McGregor said before Gil could. ‘He brought you up hard and what did you do? You designed the most wonderful ship on God’s earth and then you threw it all away over a woman.’

‘I’m going to build a better ship.’

‘I daresay. And will you throw that away too?’

‘I’d do it again for her.’

Mr McGregor shook his head.

‘It was the proudest day of my life when we launched the
Northumbria.
If I live to be a hundred I won’t feel that again.’

‘You would if you came and worked with me. I’ll pay you better, build you a new house—’

‘I canna be bribed nor bought—’

‘The chance to work on another big project. Will you get that at Collingwood’s, something to test your mind to its limits? You want that, it’s what you live for. You need the challenge.’

That was what persuaded McGregor, the opportunity to use his excellent brain. Mr Philips was easier. He didn’t like William Collingwood and when Gil mentioned more money, more freedom and a better house he said, ‘You only had to ask.’

Gil was pleased with his work. After that, he and Henderson organised the kind of improvements and expansion they would need and the contract was signed. Henderson didn’t put Gil’s name on the gate but he did make him a partner, it was all drawn up legally. Nobody was told. Gil took every good experienced man away from Collingwood’s, including almost the entire drawing office. He took the best-skilled men. They had been badly treated over the years by Collingwood’s so they were eager to leave, pleased with the good conditions and more money and housing he was offering them. Gil began systematically to dismiss every man who did not work to the limit of his abilities so that Reed’s would soon become the most efficient shipbuilder on the river.

He also travelled to various parts of the country and abroad to make sure that he lost none of the contacts that he had made during his time at his father’s shipyard. Since they knew of the
Northumbria
and he could tell them that he had secured the contract with Marlowe and the Admiralty to build another huge express liner, they had sufficient confidence to promise him work, a great deal of which would have gone to Collingwood’s.

The following spring the
Northumbria
left the Tyne and on her maiden voyage she took the Blue Riband for the fastest crossing ever between Liverpool and New York. It was difficult for Gil not to think of her leaving the Tyne and worse when she broke the record as he had predicted. He wished he could have been at
his father’s shipyard when the news was brought, but he knew that it was as bitter and sweet to his father as it was to him and that because of it his fame spread even further and it did him nothing but good. The orders came in, the shipyard was expanded, he and Henderson even bought another piece of land on the river and began setting up another yard to deal with the rush of work. Gil and Henderson were invited nowhere socially, but he didn’t care and he didn’t think Henderson cared. The work was so exciting and the light in Henderson’s eyes made up for a lot, and when he came home in the evening there was his child and a decent meal and a good bed and a bottle of wine. They sat by the fire in wet weather or in the garden in fine and they talked about the shipyard and about politics. Things could have been a lot worse, Gil decided. They had been and no doubt they would be again, so he took pleasure in the present and his friend and his child and his work.

Abby became pregnant again that summer and was so thankful that she didn’t know what to do.

‘This time it will be a boy,’ Robert said, satisfied. After that he left her alone in bed and she could only be grateful.

She went to her father’s every Sunday and there, to her anger, she was happy. The little boy grew more interesting and attractive every week and there was always beef for dinner and Yorkshire pudding. Her father and Gil sat by the fire and she talked with them and drank her wine. In the afternoons if the weather was good they would take Matthew to the park and sail boats on the pond and she was able to behave like a child, screeching and yelling as the sails on the boats filled with wind and they raced to the other side. She was even happy looking over the bridge at the dene, watching twigs or leaves in at one side and out at the other. She and Matthew would dash to the far side of the bridge to see if they emerged, or whether they had caught on the side or on a rock or a piece of something bigger which was floating past. She always told herself on the way home that she had been very foolish, that Robert would have despised her, but the simple pleasures were stored in her mind. She was as desperate as Robert for a son, not only because he and his family wanted an heir but because she had seen Matthew. Georgina was a difficult child who cried frequently
and Abby found herself hoping that she didn’t have to see much of her.