Too Close to the Sun (12 page)

‘Prospects? No, all I have is my work. I’m sorry to say that my father left very little.’

‘No, I mean – prospects in other ways. I wondered whether perhaps there might be something else – perhaps a marriage in the offing.’

‘ – No. Nothing like that.’

He smiled. ‘No engagement imminent? No handsome young suitor knocking on your door? A pretty girl like you, I can’t believe it.’

Grace felt herself colouring slightly, and could not meet the man’s twinkling eyes. ‘No,’ she said, ‘there’s no one.’

‘Oh, well,’ he said, nodding his head sagely, ‘just give it time. Give it time.’

Trying to get the conversation back onto the rails, Grace said, ‘A month really ought to see us all right, Mr Grennell. Just a month. I’ve already been in touch with the auctioneers. All our possessions are to go under the hammer in three weeks. We shall be left with the very barest essentials for living. But it doesn’t have to be for long.’

‘Oh, dear,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘that sounds most distressing for you.’

She shrugged. ‘I hate the thought of it, but what else are
we to do? The house has been my home all my life, and inside it is everything I grew up with. All those things that belonged to my mother and my father. But what else is to be done? We can’t take the things with us.’

‘Of course not.’

‘So you see, a month would enable me to sell off all the things from the house and also find work and somewhere decent for my brother and me to stay.’

‘And do you have funds for that extra month’s rent?’ he asked.

‘I was hoping to let you have it once our effects have been sold.’

‘I see – you don’t plan to pay me in advance, then?’

Grace was silent at this.

‘It is the usual procedure,’ he said.

‘I know,’ Grace said again. ‘But really, Mr Grennell, I’ll get the money to you just as soon as I can.’

He smiled at this. ‘That is how we live, we property owners. You don’t think I’m being mercenary, I hope. But everyone has to live. I own a number of properties over the area, and if you only knew the number of times tenants come asking for favours. And I suppose they all mean well; they all mean it when they say they’ll pay. And of course one would like to help. But at the same time of course one is not running a benevolent society.’ He sighed, gave a little shrug. ‘There is an old Chinese proverb which I’ve found to have a certain measure of truth in it:
He who does a good deed will assuredly be made to pay the price
.’

Grace could feel herself colouring again. ‘We shall have the money,’ she said. ‘The auction will bring in more than enough. For one thing, Father has certain carpentry tools – and of excellent quality – and they’ll fetch something. If you can help us I can faithfully promise that I’ll pay you. I wouldn’t have that debt hanging over my head. For one thing, I’ve got too much pride.’

She could hear herself almost begging him, and felt her humiliation like a cloak, heavy and all encompassing, and the shame stung at her eyes and brought a lump to her throat. In moments Mr Grennell was getting up from his chair and standing behind his desk.

‘Ah – Miss Harper,’ he said, catching a brief glimpse of the tears threatening in her eyes, ‘I don’t see any reason for you to be upset. I’m just speaking generally – having had so many – disappointing experiences over the years. Please – don’t be upset.’

‘I meant it,’ Grace said, pulling herself up, ‘ – when I said you would be paid – I meant it.’ She paused then added, ‘I’m my father’s daughter and he was an honest and honourable man.’

‘I’m sure.’

‘So,’ Grace said after a moment, ‘Mr Grennell – can you help me?’

He stood there a second longer, one hand raised to touch his pink chin, then moved around the desk and stepped towards the empty chair at Grace’s side. Sitting down in it, he clasped his hands before him and leaned slightly towards her.

‘That’s better,’ he said, ‘ – get rid of that barrier of the desk – and now let’s talk and see if we can’t sort something out between us.’

Grace waited, her little bag clutched before her on her knees. She could see a warmth in his smile, and her hopes rose.

‘How would it be if I also reduced the rent a little for this period of a month?’ Mr Grennell said. ‘That would help you, wouldn’t it?’

She could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Was he quite serious? Briefly she frowned, studying his expression. But no, his eyes were touched by his smile, and his smile looked sympathetic.

‘I’d like you to understand that I do understand your particular circumstances – and I am not unsympathetic. Far from it. I’d like to do what I can to help you and your brother. God knows, no one would wish to see the two of you out on the street.’

Grace felt the greatest relief at his words. ‘Then you will help us?’ she said.

‘Indeed, yes. A month isn’t so very long, and if it will enable you and your brother to get settled, then I’ll be more than happy to help.’ He paused. ‘And as for the financial amount, I think we could see our way to reducing it by a third.’

‘Oh – thank you so much.’

In her great sense of relief, Grace reached out and took his hand. He grasped her hand and shook it. ‘There,’ he said. ‘We’ve made a pact; we’ve shaken hands on it.’

‘Thank you. Oh, thank you.’

And he still held her hand, and now he leaned across the space between, closer, and through the thin cotton of her gloves she could feel the warmth of his skin.

‘You appear to me to be a most kind, considerate, and deserving young lady,’ he said. ‘And I’m sure you were a credit to your late father. Indeed, I should think that any man would be glad to have you for a daughter.’ Then without warning, his right hand moved up to her face, touching at the softness of her cheek. Gently he brushed his fingertips over her skin. ‘Any man,’ he said.

Grace drew back a little, stiffening in the chair, but he still held her hand.

‘And if you needed to stay on in the house for longer,’ he went on, ‘I can’t see any reason you should not. And I’ll be happy to call in and make sure that you’re – comfortable.’

Before Grace could make a move to stop him, his hand had moved to the back of her neck and pulled her head forward. In the same moment he leaned closer and planted
a wide, moist kiss on her mouth. His breath smelled of parma violets and tobacco. Quickly, without hesitating for a moment, she leapt to her feet, brushing his hands aside. Breathing heavily, she wiped the back of her gloved hand across her mouth. At the same time tears of shame sprang to her eyes.

‘Mr Grennell …’ Again she wiped her mouth with her hand. ‘Mr Grennell, you’ve made a great mistake.’

He had looked a little taken aback by her violent response, but now he affected a rather casual air. ‘Well,’ he said, getting to his feet, ‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say a
great
mistake. If indeed I’ve made a mistake at all.’

‘Well, you’ve made a mistake in
me
,’ Grace said. Her hat had gone slightly askew in the movement of the kiss, and she put up a hand and adjusted it. ‘I don’t know where you might have got the notion, but I’m not the kind of person who can be bought for a month’s rent.’

‘Calm down, calm down,’ he said, looking not greatly moved as Grace stood there with her breast heaving, glowering at him. ‘You said earlier that you have pride.’ He nodded. ‘Well, yes, I can see that. But I do think it’s a bit misplaced.’ Raising one eyebrow, he added a little sardonically, ‘For one thing, I’m wondering if you can
afford
such pride. I always bear in mind that every man has his price – and that goes for every woman too.’

Grace opened her mouth to speak in protest, but no words would come. In another moment she was turning and moving towards the door. Grennell remained where he was, his expression showing no measure of distress as she opened the door.

‘Don’t forget, then,’ Mr Grennell said, ‘be ready with the house keys. I’ll expect to receive them from you when I call round.’

Grace, about to close the door, turned on the spot and looked at him.

‘But you said – you said I could stay on for a further month.’

‘I don’t recall saying any such thing,’ he said.

‘But – we shook hands on it.’

‘My dear young lady,’ he said, ‘you have a powerful imagination. You must be careful with it, lest it get you into trouble.’

Grace stood staring at him. ‘Mr Grennell, how can you do this? How can you be so unkind?’

‘Unkind, my dear?’ he said, gazing back at her with wide eyes. ‘Kindness doesn’t come into this. I’ve no time for sentiment; I’m a businessman.’ He moved around to stand behind his desk. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘I’m also a busy man, so if there’s nothing else for the present …?’ He gestured towards her with a little motion of his hand. ‘And please be careful not to slam the door when you close it.’

The sun was shining brightly out of a sky that was clear apart from odd wisps of cloud on the horizon as Grace alighted from the train at Liddiston. She could see that the walk in front of her to Green Shipton was to be a warm affair. Nevertheless it had to be done. She could not give in to her desires and hire a cab. There simply was not the money. If she had learned to be frugal in the recent past, she must make even greater efforts now.

Less than two weeks, she said to herself, as she walked. Less than two weeks. The phrase went through her brain. She could scarcely believe it. She had set out to see the landlord with such strong feelings of hope, and she had thought the meeting was going well. But then suddenly everything had fallen apart. How could I have been so naïve? she asked herself. She was not a child. Should she not have seen it coming? But she had allowed herself to be swept along, believing in the man’s good nature. Less than
two weeks – and she and Billy would have to be out of the house.

But what was she going to do? There would not now be time for the goods to be auctioned off. Therefore she would have to find some other way of disposing of everything. Which would probably mean getting in touch with a house clearer. Losing the sale of their possessions through auction would mean that she would lose so much of their value, for a dealer would take everything, lock, stock and barrel, regardless of the value of individual items. And she needed to get as much money as possible. All she had was her wages from Mr Marren and the little that her father had left in cash. All told, it amounted to not very much – certainly not enough to keep her and Billy in food and clothes and shelter for very long.

Even so, she and Billy would very quickly have to search around and find lodgings somewhere. She had expected to have to do such a thing in any case, but now there was very little time. She had been casting her eyes about, and asking questions of neighbours, in the hope of learning about available rooms for rent, somewhere, but there were so few available. One thing she had come to realize was that she and Billy would probably have to move to Corster or some other town.

At last Grace reached Green Shipton and headed along the lane towards Bramble House. As she reached the house and turned into the yard she saw a pony and trap standing there. It took her just a few seconds to recognize that it belonged to Mr Spencer.

As she stopped beside it she heard the scrape of footsteps on the cobbles, and turned to see Edward Spencer coming round the side of the house. He smiled broadly when he saw her. ‘Ah, Miss Grace, you’re here.’

Grace smiled in reply. ‘Hello, Mr Spencer.’

‘I’ve just seen young Billy,’ he said, gesturing towards the house. ‘He said you’d gone off out on business.’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I’ve been into Corster.’

She did not say more on the subject, and after a moment’s pause he said, ‘I came round for the bureau.’

‘The bureau – oh, yes, of course.’ She had forgotten about the Spencers’ bureau. The payment for it could not have come at a better time.

‘I didn’t want to come round immediately after the funeral,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I should have written first – to see whether it’s convenient.’

‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘It’s fine.’

Turning, she stepped away across the yard. ‘It’s in my father’s workshop. He left it all ready to be transported. He would have delivered it to you if he hadn’t fallen sick.’

The man followed her. ‘I’ve no doubt he would,’ he said.

It was the first time she had been inside the workshop since her father had taken to his bed. Now, without his presence, and without the knowledge that his presence would soon again be there, the place had a forlorn air. The tools and everything else were just as he had left them, everything neatly in its place, the piece, unfinished, that he had been working on still lying on the bench.

The bureau, wrapped in pieces of cloth for protection, was standing to one side. Grace carefully pulled aside some of the covering and exposed the polished cabinet beneath.

‘It looks beautiful,’ Mr Spencer said. ‘Just beautiful. Mrs Spencer will love it.’

When the bureau had been stowed safely in the trap he took out his purse and took money from it. Then into her hand he counted out coins.

Grace looked at the money in her palm and said, ‘You’ve given me too much by a shilling.’

‘No matter,’ he said. ‘I’m well pleased with the bargain.’

‘No, please,’ she said, ‘you struck the deal with my father, and a deal’s a deal. I know how much it was for; he wrote everything down.’

‘No, honestly –’

He began to protest again, but Grace cut in, holding out the coin. ‘Mr Spencer, please take it. We must stick to what is right, what was agreed.’

‘Very well, if you insist.’ He took the shilling from her and put it back in his purse.

‘I’ll write you out a receipt.’ She turned, about to move to the workshop again, but he waved a hand to halt her.

‘That’s not necessary.’

‘Very well.’ She dropped the coins he had given her into her bag. She expected him then to climb up into the trap and be away, but he remained there, for a moment silent, then he said:

‘How are you now? Are things getting a little easier?’

‘Well – there’s certainly a good deal to do. Though perhaps in some ways that’s all to the good. It takes one’s mind off things. There’s not much time for dwelling on unhappiness.’