The Emerald Valley (50 page)

‘The lorry is late? Picking up loads or getting them delivered?' Amy asked.

‘Both. And I'm sorry, but it just won't do. If you can't provide me with a driver who is reliable and punctual, I shall have to look elsewhere.'

‘Oh no, please don't do that!' Amy exclaimed in alarm. ‘I'm glad you've told me about the trouble you're experiencing. I had no idea. Why Cliff Button should be taking too long, I don't know, but I assure you that I shall find out and make certain it doesn't occur again.'

‘Fair enough!' Sam Gain started to go, then turned back. ‘I think I can tell you the why, by the way – or at least the where. There's a transport café upon Mendip with a waitress who seems to have quite a name among the men, and your lorry has been seen outside there a time or two.'

‘Really?' Amy said, annoyed. ‘Well, thank you for telling me. I shall certainly speak to my drivers. You'll have no further cause for complaint.'

‘I hope not.'

‘You won't. That's my word, Mr Gain.'

When he had gone Amy stamped into her office. How dare Cliff Button dilly-dally in a transport café and get the firm a bad name! Perhaps he thought he could get away with that sort of thing because he was only employed as a temporary driver or, more likely, because his boss was a woman – if so, he was very much mistaken! Besides, it was an attitude which could spread all too easily to the younger men, and that she would not tolerate.

All day she simmered and by the time both lorries were back in the yard, she was absolutely determined on one thing – no one was ever going to have cause to complain about the punctuality of Roberts Haulage again.

She went out into the yard. Herbie had the bonnet of the lorry up, checking it over while Cliff was leaning against the cab, arms folded, chatting as he watched his brother work. The two mates were sorting chains into piles and stopping occasionally to kick a stone to one another.

Amy crossed to them. ‘Could you all step into my office for a minute, please?'

They looked up at her, surprised by the authority in her voice.

‘Can I just finish doing this, missus?' Herbie asked.

She hesitated momentarily. It was not Herbie she was gunning for; he was a good worker, one of the best. But she didn't want to leave anyone out of this pep-talk. Company policy was company policy … and she had to impress herself on them as the boss, too. If Cliff felt his brother Herbie was above her authority, he might take advantage of it.

‘No, come now, please Herbie, if you would,' she said crisply. ‘What I have to say won't take long.'

They followed her across the yard, looking at one another and wiping their hands on the bundles of rags they carried in their pockets.

In the office she stood behind her desk, waiting until they were all assembled, then she raised her eyes and looked from one to the other of them in turn. Beneath her gaze they shuffled uneasily, but none of them said anything.

‘I expect you're wondering why I wanted to see you all,' she said at last. ‘Well, I'll tell you. I've had a complaint today from a customer of ours – Gain's Sand and Gravel. Mr Gain is not satisfied with the timetable we're keeping – in fact, he is so dissatisfied that he came here to see me about it and threatened to take his custom elsewhere.'

Varying degrees of guilt coloured three of the four faces and Amy homed in on Cliff.

‘Why has your lorry been late picking up and delivering, Cliff?'

His eyes moved shiftily and he shrugged his shoulders in a gesture which purported to be puzzled by the criticism whilst dissociating himself totally from the inanimate guilt of his lorry.

‘It's my belief that you've been spending too long in a certain transport café,' Amy went on tartly and saw a dark flush colour Cliff's face and neck.

‘Surely we'm entitled to a cup of tea, missus?' he protested.

‘A cup of tea, yes – but not at the expense of the schedule,' Amy snapped back. ‘It takes perhaps five minutes to drink a cup of tea. And Mr Gain would not have been here complaining if you had been only five minutes late.'

‘It's not my fault if they take a long time to serve us,' Cliff grumbled.

‘Very true,' Amy agreed, ‘but your problem all the same, I'm afraid. If you can't drink your tea and be on the road in time to keep to the schedules, I'm afraid you will just have to go without the tea until the job is done.' She ran a hand through her hair, tossed her head to loosen it again and met the men's eyes levelly. ‘This is a small business and the service we can offer is limited – in some ways we cannot hope to compete with larger concerns. But one thing we can do is ensure that we are both prompt and reliable. Promptness and reliability are going to be the hallmark of Roberts Transport from now on – and
your
watchwords! That's what I called you together to say. We are a small team, but we're going to be a good one – and there is no room in it for slackers. In future I shall be watching the schedules very carefully and I won't stand for any slip-ups. Is that understood?'

She looked from one to the other again. The two mates were exchanging uncomfortable glances, while Cliff looked red and resentful. Only Herbie's face was totally unreadable.

‘That's all, then. You may as well get on with your work,' she finished. ‘But I hope you will remember what I have said. I want this to be the finest transport company for miles around and if we all pull together, we can do it. But I can't – and won't – carry passengers. There's no room for them in Roberts Haulage.'

Realising they had been dismissed, the men filed out of the office and Amy stood for a moment breathing deeply on the nervous euphoria of having exerted her authority for the first time.

The euphoria lasted exactly an hour. Amy was still in the office, working on new and tighter schedules, when there was a tap on the door. She looked up, impatient at the interruption. Cliff and the two young mates had gone home, she knew – she had seen them leave the yard half an hour earlier – so she guessed it must be Herbie who, still pottering about, had come on some problem.

‘Come in!' she called.

Herbie opened the door and entered. There was a hesitancy in his manner, yet at the same time a kind of purpose, tight-coiled, which she had never noticed in him before.

‘Is there something wrong?' she asked.

‘Yes, missus. There is.' He paused, looking at her with a set face.

‘Well, what is it?'

‘I don't think I can work for you any more.'

Amy went cold. ‘What on earth do you mean?'

‘What you said just now, missus … well, if that's your attitude, I don't think I can work for you.'

‘But Herbie, for goodness'sake! I wasn't getting at you!'

‘I worked for Mr Roberts from the time he started up this business,' Herbie went on as if he had not heard her. ‘He never had any complaints. I've done my best to carry on the same way and help out all I can, but a man's got his pride. I mean to say, it's bad enough working for a woman, but to have to stand and be told the way you told us, well …'

‘Herbie, listen to me!' Amy was trembling; she felt as if the bottom had dropped out of her world. ‘I had to say something – you must see that! If the company gets a bad reputation, we won't get any new work and we shall probably lose what we have. I thought a pep-talk was called for and that it was best to speak to all of you together. But I promise you that none of what I said was aimed at you. You're above reproach. It was Cliff …'

‘I know that,' Herbie said implacably.

‘Well then, why … ?'

‘He's my brother, isn't he? And it's because of me that he's here. I feel responsible, like.'

‘But you're not his keeper, Herbie! He's been wasting time because of some waitress in a transport café, if what I hear is true, and he has to be told about it. I don't pay him wages to sit around drinking tea and chatting up some fancy piece, even if he is your brother. But I certainly don't hold
you
responsible.'

‘That's as maybe, but I've thought it over, missus, and I reckon it's best if I give in me notice.'

‘But Herbie!'

‘That's all, missus.' He turned and left the office, stubborn decision written into every line of his tall, stooping frame. For a moment Amy sat staring after him in absolute horror. Herbie wouldn't leave Roberts Haulage – he
couldn't!
She would never manage without him! He was responsible for so many things which she didn't have a clue about – and even leaving all that aside, she had come to rely so much on his calm, dependable presence. Oh, how could she have been so foolish as to upset him – and all because of that brother of his and his eye for a woman! Yet even as the panic and sense of desolation mounted, Amy knew she had done the right thing.

She must not let the staff get away with slacking. They must have a standard to work to, or the whole thing would fall apart.

But she couldn't let Herbie go either – she couldn't! There must be a way to keep him …

It came to her in a flash: promote him! Give him some responsibility for looking after the yard instead of just using his expertise – and perhaps put him over Cliff and the others as well. She would have to offer him a raise in pay, and heaven only knew where that would come from, but that would not be the main incentive. It would be the assurance that he was appreciated, needed, which would enable Herbie to swallow his pride and continue working for a woman – if anything could do it, that is.

Shaking with anxiety, Amy left the office and went into the yard to look for Herbie, but he had already gone and she realised it would be tomorrow before she could put her suggestion to him. If then. Supposing he expected his notice to take effect immediately? What would she do about that – and about tomorrow's deliveries?

Amy spent a sleepless night worrying about it and next morning she was at the yard early, before any of the men arrived. Sick to her stomach she watched the gates, wondering how she would ever cope if Herbie failed to turn up. But long before dawn she saw the lights of his bicycle turn into the yard and she went out to meet him.

‘Herbie, could you come in a minute, please? There's something I want to say to you.'

He came, standing awkwardly in the doorway, turning his cap round and around between his hands.

‘Herbie – if I upset you yesterday, I'm very sorry. Though I do truly feel that I only said what had to be said. No … just a minute!' she said hastily as his set expression became more mulish. ‘As I told you, it wasn't you I was getting at for one moment, but I can see that you were hurt at being lectured with the others when in fact you are my right-hand man. Well, I should like to ensure that can never happen again. If only I can persuade you to stay on, Herbie – and I hope and pray I can! – I would like to make you up to foreman. There would be a bit extra in your pay packet and quite a lot of extra responsibility. Well, in fact, I suppose it wouldn't mean you doing much more than you do at present, but it would give you more authority – and make it official.'

She paused, biting her lip. His expression had changed not one iota, but was still totally blank. Her heart was thudding. Was it too late to make amends? Was he still going to insist on leaving?

‘Oh please, Herbie!' she said desperately. ‘I do need you! Without you, I don't think Roberts Haulage can survive!'

‘Well, missus …' Herbie's voice was slow, giving nothing away. ‘Well, I'm very touched that you should want to put me in charge, but …'

Her heart sank. She had lost him! Then above the hammering of the blood in her ears she heard him say, ‘I were coming in to see you this morning, anyway. I spoke in haste last night and I were a bit upset, I admit it. But … I couldn't walk out and leave you. No, I couldn't'ave done that.'

‘Oh Herbie, thank goodness!' she cried.

And in that moment she could have thrown her arms around his stooping frame and hugged him, oily overalls and all.

Two evenings later Amy was busy ironing when there came a knock at the front door. She popped the flats back on to the gas-ring and went to answer it.

‘Ralph!'

‘Hello, Amy.'

Her pulses had begun the erratic pounding which the mere sight of him seemed to engender. ‘What are you doing here?'

‘I said I would be seeing you. Aren't you going to ask me in?'

She experienced a momentary stab of panic. Huw was in the living-room, playing some records on the gramophone and sorting through a box of old postcards she had found to amuse him. What behaviour would it provoke if she were to walk in with Ralph? But she could hardly leave him standing on the doorstep.

‘Come in. We'll go in the front room.'

‘The kitchen would be fine by me.'

‘No!' The kitchen would be within earshot of Huw and he would be able to overhear everything they said.

She led the way into the front room, where she lit the lights and the gas fire. The atmosphere in the room was icy – it had not been used since Christmas – and she shivered.

‘It will warm up in a moment – excuse me while I just take my irons off, will you? And oh … do sit down …'

On her way through to the kitchen she spoke anxiously to Huw. ‘All right, Huw? Having fun with the postcards?'

‘Yes. They're good …' But he was too engrossed to look up and she thanked her stars for the gramophone blaring ‘Valencia'. When she returned to the front room Ralph had not taken a seat but was standing in front of the gas fire warming himself. As she came in, he moved away to allow her to share the warmth.

‘This is a surprise! I haven't anything to offer you, I'm afraid, except a cup of tea …' She felt she was blabbering like an idiot, but the words came tumbling out all the same.

‘It's all right, I don't want anything – I've just had dinner.' How did he manage to remain so calm, so self-possessed? It was not fair that some people should be like that while she … ‘I came to ask when I'm going to see you again,' he continued.