Two Silver Crosses, page 48
‘We’ll keep the bungalow so that we can go there from time to time and I can keep an eye on the meters.’
She agreed to that very readily. ‘Yes. Of course. We couldn’t get rid of our first home. Not when you’ve made it so perfect. But we could live here as well. Sort of turn and turn about.’
‘Yes. We could. As it seems, I could end up being a Wolverhampton factory owner. D’you think Ginny will live here, too?’
‘When she’s married. Yes, I’m sure she will. Especially if Charlie takes this job with the firm. After all, we’re the new owners.’
‘Well, not quite,’ he felt obliged to point out. ‘The will was put to one side, wasn’t it?’
‘There was nothing wrong with the will,’ she told him with a wicked expression on her face. ‘It could have been read and accepted there and then if Uncle Claud hadn’t been so opposed to it. Oh no! The whole thing was an act, wasn’t it, and very neat, too. I think Mr Crabbit is one of the cleverest men I’ve ever met.’
‘You’ve lost me,’ Ken said. ‘You’ll have to explain.’
‘The wording of the will was very clear,’ she said. ‘Charlie read it to me this morning.’ And she quoted it. ‘He said, “I leave and bequeath my estate in toto to my four grandchildren.” Just that. There wasn’t a word about having to wait for the boys to grow up. If we hadn’t been found, then the whole estate would have gone to George and Johnny when they were both twenty-one, but that was the only mention of their age. Oh no, it was all an act they were putting on, and Charlie was part of it.’
‘How on earth did you know all that? Did Mr Crabbit tell you beforehand?’
‘No,’ she laughed. ‘I heard it. When Charlie asked if he could make an observation, he was much too meek. And when Mr Crabbit said he was ashamed to be the man responsible for drawing up the will, do you remember? I heard it then.’
‘You’re a witch,’ Ken said, pulling her towards him to kiss her.
In the happiness of the moment, his kiss was lovingly returned.
In the suite of rooms in the east wing Charlie was kissing his lovely, loving Ginny. ‘Can’t I stay?’ he begged. ‘They’d never know.’
‘They would,’ Ginny whispered. ‘This is England. People don’t sleep together before they’re married in this country. You ought to know that. If you’re still here in the morning there’ll be a scandal. In fact, if anyone came in and saw you like this there’d be a scandal.’
‘What d’you mean, like this?’ Charlie protested. ‘I’m not doing anything.’
‘Not now, you’re not, but you think if someone had come in a few minutes ago.’
‘But they didn’t, did they?’
‘It’s no good, Charlie. You’ll have to go. Come on, get dressed.’
‘That wasn’t what you were saying a few minutes ago, either.’
She kissed him in answer to that and he groaned with mock frustration. ‘We’d better call the banns straightaway,’ he said. ‘That’s all I’ve got to say. We can’t live like this.’ They’d hardly had any time on their own since they got back to England, and always slept apart.
‘Where are we going to get married?’ she asked.
‘Here, Clapham, the City of London. I don’t care where. When’s all that interests me.’
‘Are you going to take this job?’
‘Probably. If only to annoy your uncle.’
‘Not to please me?’ she teased.
‘I’ve got better ways to please you.’
‘Bragging again,’ she said, kissing him.
‘And why not?’ Answering the kiss with passion.
She disentangled herself, laughing at him. ‘Is it going to be a Catholic wedding?’ she asked.
‘No. It’s not,’ he said, rolling over on to his back. There was no need to argue about that. ‘It’ll be Church of England. There’s more of them.’
She was impressed by his decisiveness. I ought to argue, she thought. Maman and Emily would have put up all sorts of objections if they’d been in her place. But it didn’t seem worth the effort. The great thing was that they were getting married — even though Charlie didn’t want to be a rich woman’s husband.
‘That’s all right,’ he said, ‘isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That’s all right.’
‘Thank God for that. I should never have made a Catholic.’
‘But if we have children, they’ll have to be brought up Catholic. You understand that, don’t you?’
‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’
‘So when will it be?’ she said. ‘Have you decided that, too?’
‘I’d marry you tonight,’ he said, ‘if you could find a priest. As soon as possible.’
Ginny became serious. ‘I’m going to stay here for a day or two and have a good look round the factory,’ she said. ‘Now that I’m part owner.’
‘You’re going to run it after all, then,’ he teased her.
‘I’m not going to let Uncle Claud run it. I can tell you that. Not after the way he behaved at the meeting.’
‘I love you when you’re fierce,’ he said.
Chapter 33
Ginny’s first visit to GS Holborn’s munitions factory lasted over three hours. She came back to tea at High Holborn dirty and exhausted, and full of furious sympathy for the workers.
‘It’s an enormous place,’ she said to Aunt Agnes, as they sat in the morning room with the teapot on the table between them. ‘I never realised it was so big. And the noise!’
‘All factories are noisy,’ Agnes said mildly. ‘You can’t do much about that, I’m afraid.’
‘Maybe not,’ Ginny said. ‘But I can do something about the way they treat injuries. That’s a disgrace. Have you seen what they do? Apparently, the men are always getting cuts and gashes and there’s no one to attend to them. They just tie up the wound with a piece of rag. They could get — what is it called? L’empoisonnement du sang — blood poisoning. We should have a proper medical room, with a nurse in attendance. I shall propose it at the next management meeting.’
Which she did, to sympathy, interest and considerable enthusiasm. Claud Everdale was none too pleased, especially as it took him twenty minutes, even from his commanding position as chairman, to persuade the new board that ‘admirable though it was’ the firm ‘simply couldn’t afford it’.
‘What did I tell you?’ he said to Agnes, that evening. ‘I knew those girls would be trouble. Medical rooms! I ask you! Namby-pamby nonsense.’
‘It’s very popular with the workers,’ Agnes said. ‘Sarah was telling me this morning when she brought up the tea…’
‘Virginia is the worst,’ Claud said. ‘If I don’t put a stop to her, she’ll be the ruin of us. However, I managed to bring them round in the end, and that’s what counts. Talk money, and people soon see sense.’
He would have been very annoyed to know that, at that very moment, Ginny was deciding to talk money, too.
‘I’m not going to let him pull a trick like that and get away with it,’ she said to Charlie, Emily and Ken. ‘If money really is short, we must find some way to make economies.’
‘I think it was a mistake to let him take the chair,’ Charlie said. ‘He’s manipulative enough without that. There must be a constitution somewhere that we could use to unseat him. I’ll phone Mr Crabbit.’
‘I suppose you’re going to stay here till you’ve got it settled,’ Emily said.
‘Of course,’ her sister told her. ‘Why don’t you stay as well, for a day or two. We could achieve a lot more if there were two of us.’
To her surprise, Ken agreed. ‘Good idea,’ he said. ‘I shall be up to my ears in work this week.’
So the campaign doubled in intensity and, what was even better, the constitution was found and proved to be extremely useful, although Charlie saw it as a mixed blessing. It gave Ginny and Emily the undeniable right to chair all board meetings — but it also encouraged Ginny to give far too much of her attention to GS Holborn’s. The date they’d chosen for their wedding was now only eight weeks away, but she rarely talked about getting married. In fact, as far as Charlie could make out, Ginny hadn’t made any preparations at all, beyond sending out the invitations. After the passion of their reunion, it was rather discouraging.
Although she didn’t tell Charlie, Ginny was hoping that her mother would come to England to see her married, so she was waiting for Hortense to answer the invitation. Either way, she needed to know what the answer would be before she could give her mind to the wedding.
It was a bitter disappointment when Hortense finally wrote back. It was a long letter and, at first, it said all the right and loving things.
You are my own dearest daughter and I love you with all my heart. I wish you happiness and health in your marriage.
But then it continued in a flat, dispirited way:
But I cannot come to your wedding.
What more could she say? Her dearest Virginie knew that this would have to be her decision. She promised to pray for both her daughters, night and day, but she couldn’t leave the convent. She was sure they would understand:
Not now, when there is so much to pray for in our unhappy world.
‘Oh Ginny!’ Emily said. ‘I’m so sorry. Is it because it isn’t a Catholic wedding, do you think?’
‘No. I didn’t tell her.’
‘Are you very disappointed?’
‘Yes,’ Ginny admitted. ‘But it’s not a surprise. I hoped, but I never really thought she’d come.’
‘What shall we do about her, Ginny? We can’t leave her in France forever.’
‘No, we can’t,’ Ginny said. ‘But it’s obviously no good writing letters to her. And it’s no good expecting her to come here either, not on her own and not without a lot of persuasion. We shall have to leave her where she is for the time being. Charlie was right. Still,’ she shrugged, ‘that’s how it is. It can’t be helped. Meantime we’ve got the board meeting. You’ll be here for that, won’t you?’
‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
‘If everything goes according to plan,’ Ginny said, ‘our Uncle Claud could be in for a bit of a surprise.’
In fact, what Uncle Claud was in for was the shock of his life. To be told he wasn’t going to take the chair was insult enough, even if it was done in the privacy of the library before the meeting began, but the agenda his wretched niece had drawn up for the occasion was a real kick in the teeth.
Item 1 — Finances
(a) Economies
(b) Expenditure on medical room.
Whatever next?
‘If I may be allowed to point this out,’ he said, from his vantage point at the foot of the table, ‘Item 1(b) was dealt with at our last meeting.’
‘No,’ Ginny said from the chair. ‘I think not. Charlie has the minute book. He could tell you. Charlie?’
‘It was deferred, I believe,’ Charlie said. ‘Mr Everdale was concerned that the firm would not be able to afford a medical room. Miss Holborn said she would look into it.’
‘Which I have done,’ Ginny said. ‘Item 1(a), Economies. I’ve taken a close look at the various guns we are producing, and I’ve discussed them with the people most concerned and I think I have found a way to save enough money to pay for the medical room, if the board is in agreement.’
‘Holborn’s guns make good profits,’ Claud said, thinking what a fool she was. ‘There’s no way we could make economies there.’
‘All bar one,’ Ginny said coolly. ‘I find we’ve been running very expensive trials on an anti-tank gun, which isn’t in production. Isn’t that right?’
‘There have been one or two problems with that gun, yes,’ he had to admit. ‘It’ll be a money-spinner when we’ve got it right.’
‘That might not be the opinion of the board,’ Ginny said. ‘Personally I feel we’ve wasted far too much money on it already. I think it would be unwise to proceed with it. However, I will take the opinion of the board. Mr Pennyfield?’
One by one, the members of the board told her what they really thought of Claud’s gun. Even Mr Manners said he wasn’t entirely happy with it. Claud spoke for fifteen minutes in its defence, but he was fighting a losing battle.
‘Any further comment?’ Ginny asked, when he’d finished. ‘Good. I put it to the vote that the anti-tank gun be scrapped.’
Claud was so shocked he could hardly believe his ears. ‘You can’t do that,’ he protested.
Nevertheless, according to the company secretary and that wretched Commoner, she could. The vote was taken and carried by an overwhelming majority. And the next vote, for the proposed medical room, was unanimous, except for his own, lone, dissenting voice.
That evening Claud Everdale returned to High Holborn flushed with rage.
‘I can’t believe it!’ he said to Agnes. ‘For sheer, unadulterated, black-hearted treachery, I simply can’t believe it. She must have been round the factory canvassing support. She’d really put the pressure on them. They were all for her, the stupid fools. Eating out of her hand.’
‘Fancy,’ Agnes said quietly. She was paying more attention to a book of wallpaper samples.
‘You should have been there,’ Claud said. ‘I could have done with your support.’
‘Um,’ Agnes said, matching a swatch of brocade against one of the patterns. Knowing that a fight was brewing, she had deliberately stayed at home that afternoon out of harm’s way. Now she felt ashamed of her cowardice and wished she’d been there to see the fun.
‘What am I going to do, Aggie?’ her husband asked, helping himself to his second sustaining whisky. ‘That’s my gun they’re scrapping. You realise that, don’t you? I’ve put years of my life into that gun. I can’t let her get away with this.’
‘I don’t see how you can stop her,’ Agnes said, without looking up from the samples. ‘After all, she does own the company.’
‘What nonsense you talk!’ Claud bristled. ‘She doesn’t own the company. The will wasn’t proved.’
‘I think you’ll find that she and Emily are the two co-owners, nevertheless,’ Agnes said implacably. ‘They chair the meetings, don’t they? It’s all in the constitution. You and I have no power now, Claud. We’re just keeping the seats warm for the boys.’ She turned over to the next page.
Her calm infuriated Claud. ‘Put that bloody book down!’ he ordered. ‘I’m talking to you.’
Agnes marked her place with a swatch of cloth and set the book aside.
‘What is that?’ he said, squinting at it across the rim of his glass.
‘Wallpaper.’
‘What on earth for?’
‘Redecorating.’
‘Redecorating!’ he roared. ‘What do you mean, redecorating? We’ve only just had everything done. We don’t need redecorating.’
‘Actually, that was three years ago,’ Agnes said. ‘But you’re right. We don’t need it. This is for the west wing. For Emily and Kenneth.’
‘What? What?’
‘Oh dear,’ Agnes said, sighing. ‘Must I repeat every single thing I say? I’m having the west wing decorated for Emily and Kenneth.’
‘What for?’
‘For when they come to stay and…’
‘Ah! Well, I suppose that’s all right,’ Claud said, tipping back a third whisky. ‘Just so long as they’re not going to live here. For a minute there, I thought that was what you meant. I don’t mind putting up with them now and then, for board meetings — I’m a reasonable man — but they needn’t think they’re going to muscle in on my home. I draw the line at that. A man’s home ish hish castle.’
‘Of course they’re going to come and live here,’ Agnes said, implacably. ‘Where else would they live?’
‘Not in my house.’
‘It’s not your house.’
‘Goddamn it, of course it’s my house. I live here.’
‘So you do, but it’s not your house. It belongs to the company, or, if I’m really accurate, I suppose I should say to the people who own the company. That’s Ginny and Emily. And the boys, when they’re twenty-one. Me for the time being.’
‘Legal mumbo-jumbo,’ Claud said, pouring another whisky. ‘We don’t need to pay any ’tention to that.’
Agnes didn’t answer, and her silence was potent.
‘Now, look here!’ Claud said, fired by rising anger and descending whisky. ‘Thish has gone far enough. I will not have those girls in my housh. Do I make myshelf clear. I shimply won’t allow it. They are not allowed.’
She returned to the book of samples, still silent.
‘I forbid it,’ he roared. ‘I mean it, Agnes. If they come into thish house, I leave it. You unnershtand me?’
‘It’s no good going on like that,’ Agnes said calmly. ‘They’re moving in on Thursday fortnight. In nice time for Ginny’s wedding.’
He was so enraged he seized the book from her hands and, heavy though it was, hurled it into the corner of the room.
‘You’re not listening to me,’ he shouted. ‘I told you. It’s either them or me. If they move in, I leave.’
She looked him straight in the bloodshot eye. ‘Then you must leave,’ she said.
The shock of such treachery sobered him. ‘But I’m your husband,’ he said. ‘You love me.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I do.’ And she got up and walked across the room to retrieve the book.
For a few seconds he was rooted to the spot, whisky glass in hand. ‘How can you say such a thing?’
‘Because it’s true,’ Agnes said. ‘I haven’t loved you for years.’
‘I don’t unnershtand you,’ he said. ‘I don’t unnershtand anybody. The world’s gone raving bloody mad.’ Having made that perfectly clear, he picked up the decanter from the sideboard and walked with drunken deliberation out of the room, down the stairs and into the library.
He was still there at midnight when Charlie, Ken and the twins returned from the theatre and a late supper. They could see him, slumped in the leather armchair with a glass and an empty decanter on the table beside him.
