The Emerald Valley (82 page)

‘Well, Mr Fricker, I know you haven't any more time for beating about the bush than I have,' she said. ‘So I shall come straight to the point. I have a proposition to put to you. I know you're having cash problems and I'm prepared to bail you out.'

The heavy jowl dropped. ‘You … ?'

‘That's right. I'll put in my accountant to go through your books and my garage manager to put the lorries in good order. It looks as if some money needs to be spent on the depot too – a few hundred at least, though that's just a rough estimate based on what I saw on my way in. All in all, I think this could be a profitable base if it was properly run.'

As she spoke, his emotions seemed to run the full gamut. Surprise verging on disbelief, indignation verging on anger. When she paused to look at him directly, he struggled to find his voice.

‘What's behind this, Mrs Roberts? You're not offering this out of the goodness of your heart.'

‘Of course not.' She half smiled. ‘My price is a controlling interest, Mr Fricker: the business registered, shares properly floated. And I should want at least sixty per cent of them.'

His mouth dropped open again. ‘You're crazy!'

‘I don't think so. I'm not offering to buy you out outright as you did with me, because I'm convinced you would refuse, just as I did. What I am doing is offering you the chance to keep your company intact – so long as I have the controlling interest.'

Silence hung between them for a moment, then Don Fricker asked heavily, ‘Why?'

‘Why don't I just wait for you to fold up, you mean? Oh, I think that would be a pity. I don't want you here as competition, it's true. But as another shoot from the main stem of my company, it would suit me admirably.'

‘And if I refuse?'

‘I don't think you will. I don't think you can afford to. But if you do, then I shall just bide my time. I might even help you on the downward slope. Let's face it, Mr Fricker; I can take your remaining business any time I like. But I would prefer to take over a going concern. So you see – it's advantageous to both of us.'

He was silent and she sensed that she had taken the wind right out of his already slackening sails. Don Fricker, of all people, hated to be bettered by a mere woman.

He rose now. ‘I'll think it over, Mrs Roberts.'

‘Don't think too long, otherwise there may be nothing left for me to take over. Remember that this way the firm has a chance of survival and you still have a job.' She paused in the doorway. ‘Just one thing – I should expect you to cut down on your drinking, Mr Fricker.'

Without waiting for his reply, she left. The adrenalin was pumping through her veins and she thought: Oh, I enjoyed that! It may cost me and I may live to regret it. But it was worth it, just to see his face!

Two days later she received the call she was expecting; Don Fricker was ready to accept her offer. And as she put the details into the hands of her accountant and solicitor, Amy experienced one of her purest and most unadulterated moments of triumph.

Easter – and the day of Amy's wedding – approached with lightning speed. With all the arrangements in hand, she took time off to go to Bath and choose a dress to wear. The weather was still poor, wet and cold, so with Dolly's help she settled on a dress of fine sky-blue wool, with a brown hat and shoes. The children were also a problem; having promised Barbara and Maureen that they could be bridesmaids, she was obliged to dress them accordingly, but she was anxious to avoid them catching cold. She and Ralph were going away for a few days'honeymoon and as Mam would be looking after the girls she wanted them fit and well – not taking a shower of germs into the house where, in the hot unventilated atmosphere, they could all too easily thrive and be passed on to Dad, with his bad chest. Eventually she settled on long-sleeved dresses of ivory piqué, with bonnets and muffs in a colour to tone with her own dress. They looked sweet – so sweet that the swell of pride brought a lump to her throat.

The week before the wedding was a busy one – not only was she finalising the takeover of Fricker Transport, but also supervising the removal of their personal effects to Valley View House so that they could move in directly she and Ralph returned from their honeymoon.

‘I expect there will be a lot of things you will want to do with the house,' Ralph said amiably.

‘I wouldn't want to tread on Flora's toes,' she assured him.

‘You won't! Her room is her castle, but beyond that she's never taken any interest – understandably. And I've never had the time or the inclination. It's been kept clean and that's about the most that can be said. You can have a field day, Amy.'

‘Yes,' she said, pleased. ‘I think I will.'

The rooms were all so fine and big that already she could visualise what she would like to do with this one and that, though the first priority would be to make the children's bedrooms into refuges where they could feel comfortable and at home as soon as possible.

‘No regrets about the house you planned to build?' Ralph asked.

‘None – well, maybe just a few,' she qualified.

He reached into an inside pocket. ‘Well here, my dear Mrs-Roberts-soon-to-be-Mrs-Porter, is your other wedding present. I promised you a necklace, didn't I, but here's something on account.'

Puzzled, she opened the envelope he handed her. Inside was a legal document.

‘The deeds to my piece of land!' she exclaimed. ‘Is that what it is, Ralph?'

He nodded. ‘Right first time. Just in case you should change your mind and decide you can't bear to live in Valley View House!'

‘Oh, Ralph!' She was touched.

His face softened. ‘I just want you to be happy, Amy, and I can hardly believe my luck that your happiness seems to coincide with mine.'

‘I know. We
are
lucky, aren't we, Ralph?'

‘Very!'

‘Except perhaps with this wretched weather.'

‘Perhaps we shall even be lucky with that.'

As the weekend approached, however, that seemed unlikely.

‘I don't know what it's coming to,' Charlotte complained as a dismal Easter Sunday followed a Good Friday and Easter Saturday which must have been amongst the coldest and wettest on record. ‘In my young day, we were always able to go out picking primroses at Easter. You couldn't now, though. You'd get “shrammed”.'

‘I don't expect it's so different really. Some years are nice; some years not. It's just the way you remember it,' Harry said, but Charlotte snorted her disagreement. Harry was an under-manager now, but still living at home, and she was determined he should not try to impose his opinion at home as he was able to do at work.

She was proud of him, of course, as she was proud of all her children – and glad too that his future now seemed assured.

Harry was a good boss, from what she could hear, and always interested in the welfare of the men. Just lately there had been a succession of representatives of the Federation calling at the house, and she knew they were consulting with him about future prospects. The last working agreement guaranteeing the men a seven-and-a-half-hour day was due to expire in the summer, when the bosses would be likely to seek a reduction in wages. From the titbits of talk she had overheard, Harry was siding with the Federation and doing what he could to ensure the men's hours and wages would not suffer. She was pleased he was being true to his class, but a little worried too; she didn't want him to harm his own career and in this life you had to look after ‘Number One'.

‘I was wondering, Mam, if our Amy would mind if I invited someone along to the wedding,' Harry said now.

‘Oh, who?'

‘Margaret Young. I ran into her yesterday. You know she's away at college training to be a teacher? Well, it's the holidays now and she's home for Easter.'

‘I shouldn't think our Amy would mind at all, just so long as you let her know there will be one more to sit down,' Charlotte said.

‘Margaret, there's someone to see you,' said Gussie.

Margaret, who had been reading one of her interminable study books, looked up in surprise.

‘Someone to see me? Who?'

‘Harry Hall!'

‘Harry!' She put down her book too quickly and stood up, straightening her skirt. ‘What a surprise!'

But somehow it was not. Though she had hardly seen him over the last few years, when they had bumped into one another in the street the previous day she had known from the quickening of her pulses that she was still as drawn to him as when she was a giddy, very-much-in-love schoolgirl – and the look on his face told her that he felt much the same.

Now she went to the door with a ready smile on her face. Harry was standing there, smartly casual with a raincoat loosely thrown on over his Oxford bags and fashionable Fair Isle pullover.

‘Harry – how nice to see you! Are you going to come in?'

‘I'm a bit wet,' he apologised.

‘Don't worry about that. Take off your coat.'

When he did so, she looked at him and saw that he had filled out; saw too the sense of purpose about his stocky frame.

‘You're a very important man now, Harry,' she said as they settled down facing one another in the front room, where once they had sorted clothes to be handed out to needy families during the General Strike.

He laughed. ‘I wouldn't say that.'

‘I would! Under-manager at your age! That's quite some achievement!'

‘I haven't achieved what I set out to do yet. I made up my mind a long time ago that I was going to do my best to get a better deal for men like my father. But I haven't managed it and sometimes I think I might have got sidetracked.'

‘Maybe. But still …'

‘That's the trouble with life, isn't it? So many byways to choose from. I thought if I could make something of myself, people might listen to me. Now I'm not so sure. Be you ever so mighty, there's always someone mightier!'

‘Once upon a time you had political ambitions.'

‘And they haven't been completely swamped – just set aside for a little while. But one day …'

‘Is that why you're here?' she asked.

‘No,' he confessed, ‘I came just to see you. Amy is getting married tomorrow and I wondered if I could persuade you to come to the wedding with me.'

‘Oh – I don't know! Isn't it a bit late for that?'

‘I don't think so. One more or less will hardly make any difference.'

‘I don't know if I have anything suitable to wear.'

He laughed. ‘The perennial woman's excuse! Please come, Margaret.'

She hesitated, remembering all the good times they had shared. He had caused her heartache once, but she had been so young then – too young. It wouldn't have worked, she had realised that a long time ago. His ambition had been clear-cut – or at least, overriding – and she would have been in danger of sacrificing everything to it. Though painful, the break had given her the chance to pursue some ambitions of her own. She had been able to pass her exams, decide on her future, gain her place at teacher training college and … yes, do a little growing up. Perhaps this time things would be different.

‘All right – if you're sure your family won't object.'

‘They won't,' he promised.

‘And provided I can find something to wear!'

He appraised her, noticing how trim she looked in her sweater and skirt and the way her brown hair fell prettily into the long bob around her face. Then his eye fell on her wrist and she held it out, laughing a little.

‘Yes, you see I still wear your moire band.'

‘And I still use your pen. It saw me through my exams.'

It was still there, that bond, strengthened rather than diminished by the years of separation.

‘It looks as if the most important thing I shall need tomorrow will be an umbrella!' said Margaret.

And as they laughed together it seemed for a moment as if the sun might be coming out from behind those heavy grey clouds for at least two of the wedding guests.

It was still raining on Easter Monday morning and by lunchtime the weather had worsened to hail, with the occasional rumble of thunder.

‘It cleared up for Ted's wedding,' Charlotte said. ‘Let's hope it clears up for Amy's.'

She was to be disappointed, but thankfully it mattered less. This time there was a fleet of cars laid on to take the guests to the church, and ushers with umbrellas to protect them from the downpour as they walked along the churchyard path to the porch.

Amy would have liked James to give her away, as he had when she married Llew, but he was really no longer fit to do it and, as he said philosophically, ‘I gave'ee away once, Amy. I can't very well do it twice!'

So Jim, as her eldest brother, had been commandeered to do the honours. He arrived in good time, squashed into a stiff collar and his best suit, his hair (beginning to recede) well slicked-down, and ready to supervise the departure of the excited children.

‘Now behave yourselves in church, won't you?' Amy said as she saw them off.

‘Don't worry about them. This is your day, Amy,' Jim told her. ‘You're all ready, are you?'

‘Yes. Let me pop upstairs just once more,' Amy said.

‘Don't be long, then.'

‘It's my prerogative to keep them waiting a little while!'

Leaving him downstairs keeping an anxious eye on the mantel clock, Amy went up to her room. She had no reason for going back – she was completely ready – but she had wanted to spend just a few quiet moments with her thoughts.

It was the last time she would be alone in this room. Already it was beginning to look bare and most of her things had already been taken to Valley View. But it was still her room – where she and Llew had spent the nights of their married life – and she wanted just a moment to say goodbye to it.