Sea Gem, page 23
‘It’s understood,’ she replied evenly.
He stood slowly and looked at his watch. ‘Come, I’ll walk you back down the hill. I have a client due shortly.’
Mary had nothing to say as they headed back down the road though her mind buzzed with speculation. Surely it was all too pessimistic—or was it? She resolved to pay even more attention to current affairs on the wireless.
He stopped on the road. ‘I’ll get on my way to my car, Madam,’ he told her gripping her hand. ‘Thank you—for a conversation which has never taken place.’
THIRTEEN
Sam and his old friend had talked themselves dry and sat watching the sea, both of them basking in the sun. It was not what could be called warm but up here, sheltered even from a breeze, Sam’s balcony was comfortable.
Louise eyed him carefully as he started the rigmarole with his pipe. She was quietly shocked. Sam seemed older than herself although he was in fact several years younger. There was also something about him that she did not like but she knew better than to mention her worry. She had noticed how stiffly he moved as if all his joints were gripped by rheumatism but it was his face which gave the game away. He lacked the healthy red colour and she fancied she could detect a slight blue pallor. She also saw how he favoured his arm as if it pained him. She had lived too long and seen too much not to recognise the signs of a slowly weakening heart. Sometime in the near future, dear old Sam would leave her.
When Mary came running up the stairs to join them Louise’s face was smooth. ‘Business done then?’ she asked quietly. Mary seemed tense, more than a little on edge. Surely she had not bumped into Victor?
‘Not quite,’ Mary said sitting down on a nearby cane stool. ‘I’m going to buy a shop.’
The old people looked at her blankly. This was utterly out of character and they stared at each other. Had she gone mad? As if she didn’t have enough to do.
Mary read their thoughts and hastened to explain herself, censoring her conversation as she now realised she must always do.
It was Louise who first saw the advantage. ‘You might be on to something. Margaret could run it if she doesn’t want to go for higher education. I think she’d have a flair for commerce but what’s put all this in your head?’
Mary shrugged noncommittally. ‘It’s been there a while actually but I wanted to consider it in depth before I spoke to both of you. But where though? Do you know somewhere suitable, Sam, in town?’
Sam still knew as much about island activities as ever. He had a succession of old cronies who came to visit with their smelly pipes and Mary swore their tongues wagged far worse than women’s ever could.
‘I might,’ he said slowly, ‘it’s not big though,’ Sam added hastily.
‘I don’t want anything too large,’ Mary explained. ‘A shop with a good backroom for storage and perhaps a couple of rooms overhead.’
‘I’ve heard of a place down south of St Martins,’ Sam told her, ‘not far from Jerbourg Road and Sausmarez Manor. It might suit you but I don’t have any idea what the asking price will be,’ Sam warned her. ‘The owner is old and wishes to retire because she was widowed a few weeks ago. It’s a small general stores but it might have potential for you.’
Mary stood up quickly. She felt it imperative to go and look right away.
‘I’ll come back for you, Tante!’ she told Louise briskly, then was gone before Louise could ask to come with her. Suddenly Mary wanted to do this quite alone. Although Tante was shrewd, there were times when Mary yearned to make her own decisions without discussing them with anyone else. Ruefully the old lady understood but made no comment. This was one of the penalties of age but sometimes the young had to learn from their own mistakes. She hoped Mary was not about to put her foot in it.
As soon as Mary had parked her car she walked the area, observing the layout of the roads and the few houses, studying the bus routes and working out where the nearest beaches were. It was also near to the centre of St Peter Port, so the location could hardly be bettered. She guessed it was a tiny lock-up shop at the moment because there was a shabby air about the upper windows which had not been cleaned in a long time. When she entered, a bell gave a tinny clang and as she stood, her eye ran over a general air of dilapidation.
A rear door opened and a small woman appeared to eye her hopefully. Mary placed her in her early sixties, noting the white hair, a face starting to wrinkle and two dainty hands that already wore brown age spots. A pair of very sharp, keen brown eyes fixed her questioningly.
‘I’m Madam Noyen junior,’ Mary began, knowing this was not a good start because their well-known name could put the price up but too many people knew her personally. ‘I understand these premises are for sale?’
The brown eyes narrowed a fraction. ‘I’m Madam Martell,’ came back to Mary who suddenly realised she was being sized up like an opponent. Her heart sank. She recognised the breed immediately. This was a typical islander who would be stubborn, obdurate and who knew the value of every penny. She took a deep breath knowing she must have her wits about her with this little dot of a woman.
Madam Martell’s heart thumped with excitement. She was astute enough to know her shop did have some potential left but not for her to run it. Without living premises it could also prove difficult to sell but she knew of the Noyens. She was not interested as to why a member of that well-off family should want a small lock-up shop but she was keen enough to scent the prospect of good money. Well-off people often did things which made little sense to lesser mortals. The more cash she received from the sale then the more comfortable she could make the retirement cottage she had spotted on the outskirts of St Sampson. She licked her lips but stood quietly as Mary walked around, testing the floorboards for soundness, eyeing the skirting boards, studying the ceiling then opening the back door to examine a large, dusty storeroom.
She took her time. The property was dirty but appeared to be sound though a private survey would have to be arranged. There were two double doors at the rear of the storeroom, ideal for offloading. Mary stepped outside and saw they gave way to a winding but short grass and dirt lane which led to the main road. There were a few tired weeds and bushes against the shop wall which all added to its run-down condition. It was easy for her to visualise the little old woman and an old husband struggling to keep going but unable to maintain a decent standard.
She was delighted with the upstairs with its one large room extending the length of the downstairs. She stood eyeing it, planning carefully. A plasterboard wall could be erected two-thirds of the way along and electricity and drainage could be brought up from below. This could make a small washroom with a geyser, a connection from which could come into the main part of the room for simple cooking. There were windows back and front. Those at the rear overlooked the dirt lane while the front ones gave a good view of the busy junction of roads nearby. She stood a moment, placing imaginary carpets and furniture into positions and saw how it could be transformed into a very comfortable little sitting room with a wall bed on the left-hand wall. Her heart thumped with eagerness. It was the perfect place for her; she must have it but as she went back down the uncarpeted, dirty stairs, she schooled her face into a poker expression.
‘It’s been very neglected,’ she started quietly.
Bright eyes looked at her carefully. ‘But it’s sound and there’s only surface dirt.’
Mary thought how like a cheeky sparrow the little woman was with her head tilted slightly to one side calculatingly, her little eyes shining and alert.
‘What is your price for it all, lock stock and barrel?’ Mary asked waving with her right hand.
The sparrow did not hesitate. ‘Two hundred plus the stock at valuation.’
Mary’s lips tightened with annoyance. The stock should be thrown in for that price and she wondered how much she dared to haggle.
‘Two hundred plus half the stock at valuation?’ she countered smoothly.
Little sparrow sensed she was going to win if she kept her nerve. The two hundred pounds was a good price so if she could squeeze more out for a ridiculous valuation it only went to show how much Madam wanted her premises.
‘No!’ she said slowly. ‘My first price stands,’ and the tiny head bobbed sideways once more. ‘I do have another interested purchaser.’
Mary only just managed to keep her face calm as she wondered whether this was true.
‘Are the premises freehold and what about taxes?’ she asked, stalling for time, wondering how to attack next. She must have this place. She knew now she should have let James negotiate for her but it was too late now.
‘You are a tough haggler,’ she said finally, unable to hold back a grudging smile.
‘I’m just a little old widow lady,’ sparrow replied evenly, eyes gleaming as victory moved a step nearer.
‘Oh very well,’ Mary told her, extending her hand. ‘Two hundred pounds plus stock at valuation.’
Sparrow shook the proffered hand and her eyes twinkled as Mary fumbled in her handbag.
‘And here’s five pounds as a deposit which you can pass to your lawyer,’ she said. From what she had learned, she doubted this did hold a price but surely it could be made to constitute part of the contract? She was worried in case there was indeed someone else sniffing around.
‘Done!’ sparrow agreed. ‘It’s freehold too and all taxes are paid up to date.’
They shook hands again but as Mary left the shop she knew she had not got the best part of the bargain. Not that it worried her. She had the money and already the thought of owning something private was as exciting as a toy to a child.
After she had taken Tante back, giving her a detailed account of the shop, she went into a huddle with Raoul. She would let him find a girl to serve in the shop once she had changed from groceries to what she had in mind. Raoul would also clean and decorate the premises to her standard and she bubbled inwardly. During that week she thought it odd that only a few short days ago her life had seemed set on quiet tracks. Since meeting James, everything had turned upside down. She admitted to herself she had fallen into a placid rut and it was pleasurable to have a new venture because she was determined the shop would pay its way.
‘It will do for excess greenhouse produce,’ she explained to Raoul carefully, ‘and it will also be a place where I can keep my private accounts and if ever I want a night in town, I can stay there,’ she told him tongue in cheek.
Raoul did not have a curious nature and accepted her statements at face value. It had long been agreed that Amelia would stay at the house on the rare occasions when Mary should be late home now that Emily had retired. With their own two sons, often joining the Noyen children, they made a boisterous herd and he could understand the mistress wanting a quiet retreat.
Exactly a week later, Mary drove over to the shop again, having left a message she wished to call to measure up for curtains to the upstairs windows. When she entered, listening to the old-fashioned bell ting, she did not realise someone else was there. A man stood at the counter to one side and it was only when he turned and moved that she gasped.
‘Victor!’ and her lips parted. How long was it since they had last talked? Her heart gave a ridiculous thump-thump and she knew her face broke into a sincere smile though her eyes were wary. He was dressed casually in grey flannel slacks with a short-sleeved shirt of fawn. A sports jacket was slung over one shoulder held by the little finger from the left hand. My God, she thought, he gets more handsome as each year passes. He held his head high and jaunty, feet slightly apart, a wide grin on his face while his eyes lit with pleasure at seeing her and she relaxed a fraction.
Damn her, Victor thought. She gets more attractive with each year and he knew his feelings for her were as strong as ever. He let his eyes dwell for a few seconds on her swelling breasts beneath a soft green shirt-blouse and green trousers. It crossed his mind to wonder whether the slacks’ pocket was empty; he could not detect any slight bulge but he had a shrewd idea she never went anywhere without her protector. Emil would lay eggs if he knew of her pistol but Victor knew he would never talk.
It was true there had been the most almighty uproar when he had returned home. Nicole had, for once shown sharp fangs of concern. It had taken all his considerable charm to calm her down, dodge her questions and maintain a casual indifference, which he had certainly not felt at the time. He carried a small scar and often let his fingers slide around this when he bathed, wondering, imagining, shaking his head and muttering soft curses coupled with downright admiration. His resolve had not weakened. One day, somewhere, somehow, she would be his. He respected Nicole now and had done so for years, which allowed a decent relationship to grow between them.
They shook hands and Mary knew her smile was wide and delighted, then she became aware of sparrow watching, head inevitably tipped to one side.
‘We have known each other a long time,’ Mary explained, quickly moving a pace away from him but highly aware of his powerful masculinity.
Madam Martell’s expression changed to relief. ‘Oh! I’m so glad!’ she cried brightly. ‘So you’ll understand.’
Mary looked at the widow and wondered why she should feel a prickle of warning touch her spine. She turned to Victor, a frown puckering her forehead.
‘Understand what?’ she asked both of them.
Victor grinned at her. ‘I’ve just bought this shop,’ he explained casually. ‘Nicole has been wanting one for a long time. She wants her own little business and fancies a haberdashery.’
Mary’s eyes opened wide with horror then she glowered at sparrow. ‘You can’t!’ she snapped decisively. ‘We shook hands on a deal and you took a deposit which can make part of the contract!’ She was not at all sure this was true but she was desperate for these premises.
Sparrow almost twittered as words tumbled out. ‘That kind of deposit has no force in law, not where property is concerned and this gentleman has made me a much better offer. Here! I’ll give you your money back!’ she said opening the till, removing a large note.
Mary backed a pace, glowering angrily. ‘I’m shocked you go back on your word!’ she cried hotly. She flung a furious look at Victor who stood silently, a grin on his face. It was if he was watching some theatre play. ‘This shop is mine!’ she snapped.
Victor shook his head slowly. ‘No, it’s mine!’ he said with a chuckle. ‘Just what Nicole wants too. I’m buying it for three hundred pounds.’
‘What!’ Mary shouted. ‘That’s daylight robbery!’
He knew she was right but that did not change the facts. ‘Nicole has a friend who lives down the road a piece,’ he explained reasonably.
Mary knew she was on the verge of losing her temper. It would have to be him of course. He looked so smug and sure of himself and it flashed through her mind he was enjoying the situation, taking his revenge.
‘I don’t care if the king lives down the road!’ she shot back at him.
‘Now, now, Catherine,’ he whispered, face crinkling with amusement, ‘don’t show yourself a bad loser!’ he mocked.
‘A deal is a deal!’ Mary flung at him hotly, and little sparrow became uneasy for the first time. She had been thrilled with the highest offer but Madam Noyen’s temper was awesome and well known. Then her jaw hardened. She owned the shop; it was hers to sell for whatever price she chose to accept, not for one of the wealthy Noyens to take because it suited them.
‘I’ve accepted Mr Le Page’s offer and that is all there is to it!’ she said coldly.
‘Be reasonable,’ Victor told her in a low voice. ‘There are other shops around.’
Mary knew there were no others so well suited as this one. Also she could not stand being beaten by him when he wore that smug expression. She went to argue when the door opened abruptly and two men entered in working clothes. They looked at the odd scene before them, then moved to the counter.
‘Twenty Goldflakes please,’ one said.
‘I’ll have twenty Players.’
Mary felt a surge of panic and for a second lost the ability to think straight. She quivered with mortification and knew she had gone scarlet with anger. Then her mind started to work again. Something said to her long ago resurfaced in her mind and she knew what she had to do.
The two men picked up their cigarette packets, took their change, turned and prepared to stroll to the door.
Mary sprang forward, blocking their path. ‘Stop!’ she screeched making everyone jump. With all eyes now on her, Mary fell to her knees, lifting her hands high in supplication. She took a deep breath and prayed her memory would not let her down.
‘Haro! Haro! Haro!’ she cried slowly while the four spectators went stiff with shock. ‘A mon aide, mon prince! On me fait tort!’
Mary concentrated upon the two workmen as witnesses. They gazed back goggle-eyed, their mouths agape. Sparrow had stopped twittering and leaned against the counter, not believing her ears while Victor stood thunderstruck and frozen to the spot.
Mary started to speak slowly and distinctly as she recited the Lord’s Prayer in French. She need not have worried. Her good brain and superb memory did not let her down and when she had finished there was silence as Mary blessed Sam’s lessons all those years ago. Slowly she stood and, with uplifted eyebrows, waited for the witnesses to speak.
‘Well!’ drawled the Goldflakes man. ‘I don’t know what all this is about but there’s a halt to it whatever it is until the court sits!’
‘That’s right!’ Players agreed. ‘My! That’s the first time I’ve ever head the Clameur de Haro used and I’m island-born and fifty years old,’ he marvelled.
‘Damn your eyes!’ Victor swore at her. She had outfoxed him very cleverly; it had never entered his head she even knew about the Haro. Sparrow slowly sat on her stool and looked from one face to the other with shock.
‘The sale of this shop and premises is frozen,’ Mary stated firmly.
‘I only wanted the best price for my old age,’ Sparrow said miserably.
Mary turned to her adversary, her lips tight, her eyes flashing a challenge. Victor felt a wild urge to grab her and shake her until her teeth fell out but he stood frozen. What she had done was perfectly legal as the two witnesses could confirm. Now it meant bringing in the lawyers and he knew to whom she would go. James would be a devil to beat on this one and his anger swelled. First the shooting and then this. What came over her whenever she saw him, he asked unreasonably?
