The door banged and Mary Ann turned slowly round to see her daughter sitting up in bed, her face puckered, her arms held out towards her, and, rushing to her, she hugged her to her breast. Then throwing herself on the bed, she cradled the child in her arms and they both cried together.
Chapter Thirteen
The following morning Mary Ann went to Newcastle, and she took Rose Mary with her. Lizzie had shed tears in front of her before she left the house, saying, ‘Don’t be silly, lass, don’t be silly. We’ve all said things we’re sorry for, but it’s just because we’re all concerned for you.’
She had replied to her mother, ‘It’s all right, it’s all right, I know.’ She had sounded very subdued, and she was very subdued. Inside, she felt lifeless, half dead. She left Lizzie with the impression that she was going after a job, and she was, but it wasn’t the real reason for her visit to Newcastle.
First, she must go and see Mr Quinton. It was many years since she had seen Bob Quinton. At different periods in her life he had loomed large, and when he appeared on her horizon it had always spelt trouble, mostly for her da, because her da had thought Mr Quinton wanted her ma, and he had at one time. But all that was in the past. She was going to Mr Quinton now to ask him how she could get in touch with Mr Blenkinsop.
Mary Ann was not shown into Mr Quinton’s presence immediately. The girl in the enquiries office wanted to know her business, and when she said it was private, the girl stared at her, then she took her time before she lifted the receiver and began to speak.
Mary Ann’s spirits were so low at this moment that she couldn’t take offence.
When the girl stopped speaking she looked up at Mary Ann and said, ‘Miss Taylor will see if he’s in; you had better take a seat.’
Mary Ann had hardly sat herself down and pulled Rose Mary’s coat straight when the phone rang again, and the girl, looking up, said, ‘He’ll see you.’
It was almost at the same moment that Mary Ann heard a remembered voice coming from the adjoining room. The intersecting door was opened by a woman, and, behind her, appeared Mr Quinton. ‘Well, hello, Mary Ann.’ He held out his hand as he crossed towards her.
‘Hello, Mr Quinton.’
‘Oh, it is good to see you. It’s years since I clapped eyes on you.’ He held on to her hand. ‘And this, I bet, is Rose Mary. When was it I last saw her?’ He bent down to Rose Mary. ‘When was it when I last saw you?’ He chucked her under the chin. ‘At your christening, I think.’
‘That’s right,’ said Mary Ann.
‘Come on, come on in.’ He pushed them both before him, past the staring young lady at the desk, and the smiling elderly secretary, through the secretary’s office and into a third room.
‘Sit yourself down.’ He stood back from her and looked at her. ‘You haven’t altered a scrap. You know, you never age, Mary Ann.’
‘Aw, I wish you were speaking the truth.’ She moved her head sadly. ‘I feel an old woman at this moment.’
‘Old woman? Nonsense.’ He waved his hand at her and pulled his chair from behind the desk to the side of it, so that he was near to her, and he sat looking at her hard before he asked quietly, ‘How’s Lizzie?’
‘Oh, she’s fine.’
‘And Mike?’
‘He’s fine, too.’
‘And how’s that big fellow of yours?’
Mary Ann’s face became stiff for a moment, and then she said, ‘Oh, he’s quite well.’
Bob Quinton stared at her; then he looked at the child and smiled widely, and put out his hand once again and chucked her chin. And Rose Mary giggled just a little bit.
‘Mr Quinton, I’ve come to ask you if you could give me Mr Blenkinsop’s address. I…I understand you’re going to build this factory for him?’
‘Yes, I am, I’m very pleased to say.’ He bent his body in a deep bow towards her. ‘It’s a very big contract.’
‘Yes.’ Mary Ann nodded.
‘And you want his address?’
‘Yes, please. If you would.’
Bob Quinton narrowed his eyes at Mary Ann. There was something here that wasn’t quite right. He had heard from Blenkinsop that he was putting the petrol side of the business in young Boyle’s hands. He had intended to pay him a visit this very morning and congratulate him, yet here was his wife looking for Mr Blenkinsop on the side. Why hadn’t she asked Corny for the address? Mary Ann was a fixer; she had fixed so many people’s lives that at one time he had attributed to her special powers. But the powers she had possessed were of innocence, the power attached to love, the great love that she bore her father. Yet the Mary Ann sitting before him now looked deflated, sort of lost. She didn’t look possessed of any special power. He glanced at the child again; then, getting to his feet, he said, ‘What about a cup of coffee, eh? You’d like one?’
‘I would, thank you.’ Mary Ann nodded at him.
‘And milk for this lady?’ He tugged gently at Rose Mary’s hair.
‘If you please,’ said Mary Ann.
‘Come along. No, I don’t mean you.’ He flapped his hand at Mary Ann. ‘I mean this young lady. She’ll have to go and help Mrs Morton fetch it.’
He pulled open the office door and said, ‘Mrs Morton, do you think you could take this young lady over to Simpson’s and bring a tray of coffee?’ Then leaning over towards his secretary, he said softly, ‘I would ask Miss Jennings to do it but I don’t think I can trust her to bring the coffee and the child both back safely. What do you say?’
Mrs Morton gave him a tight smile. Then, holding her hand out to Rose Mary, she said, ‘Come along, my dear.’
Rose Mary hesitated and looked through the door towards her mother. And when she saw Mary Ann nod her head she gave her hand to the secretary.
Back in the room, Bob Quinton resumed his seat, and, bending towards Mary Ann, one elbow on his knee, he held out his hand, palm upwards, saying, ‘Come on, spit it out. What’s the trouble?’
‘Oh.’ Mary Ann looked away from him. ‘Corny. Corny and I have had a bit of a disagreement.’
‘Corny?’ Although he had wondered why she hadn’t asked Corny for Mr Blenkinsop’s address he hadn’t, for a moment, thought the trouble was with him. Her da again, yes, because Mike, being Mike, was unpredictable. There had been some talk years ago about him carrying on with a young girl. But Mary Ann having trouble with Corny. Why? He understood they were crazy about each other. He remembered Corny from far back when, as a boy, Mary Ann had championed him. Surely nothing could go wrong between those two. But things did go wrong between people who loved each other. He had only to look at his own life. He said gently, ‘You and Corny…I can’t take that in, Mary Ann.’
‘Nor can I.’ There were tears in her eyes.
‘A woman?’
‘Oh no, no!’ She sounded for a moment like the old spirited Mary Ann, and he smiled at her, then said, ‘What, then?’
‘Oh, it started with the children.’
‘The children?’
She nodded. Then, haltingly, she gave him a brief outline of what had happened, and finished with, ‘I heard yesterday he’s going to sell out to Mr Blenkinsop, and he mustn’t do it, Mr Quinton, he mustn’t. He’s worked and slaved, he’s lived just to make the place pay, and now it’s in his hands and it’s going to be a big thing he’s going to sell up.’
‘Well, you know, Mary Ann, I think the cure lies with you. You could stop all this by going back.’
Mary Ann straightened her shoulders and leant her back against the chair, and then she said sadly, ‘He doesn’t want me any more. If he had wanted me badly he would have come and fetched me.’
‘Aw! Aw, Mary Ann.’ Bob Quinton rose to his feet and flapped his hands in the air as if wafting flies away. ‘A woman’s point of view again. Aw! Aw, Mary Ann. The medieval approach…is that what you want?’
‘No. No, you misunderstand me.’
‘No, I don’t. I don’t. But you, above all people, I would have thought would have tackled this
situation with reason. You, who have patched up so many lives, are now quite willing to sit back and watch your own be smashed up on an issue of chivalry, because that’s what it amounts to.’
‘Oh no, it doesn’t, Mr Quinton.’ Mary Ann shook her head widely. ‘You’re misconstruing everything; in fact, you’re just like all the others.’
‘What, has your da said something similar, and your mother?’
‘Everybody has.’
‘Well, I think they’re right. But look; the time’s going on and the child will be back in a moment. What do you want to see Mr Blenkinsop for? To ask him not to buy Corny out?’
‘Yes, that’s it.’
‘Well, have you thought of the possibility that if he doesn’t sell to him he’ll sell to someone else?’
‘Yes, I have. But…but if Mr Blenkinsop makes it clear that he doesn’t want to buy and that he won’t give the business to anyone else if Corny goes then there’ll be no point, will there, because he won’t get very much for it as it stands, just what we paid. And we’ve hardly paid anything off the mortgage—you don’t in fact the first few years, do you?’
A slow smile spread across Bob Quinton’s face, and he moved his head from side to side as he said, ‘I’m glad to see that little scheming brain of yours can still work. And now it’s my turn to act fairy godmother in a small way, because I’m meeting Mr Blenkinsop in exactly’—he looked down at his watch—‘twenty-five minutes from now. He’s picking me up and we’re going round the site. You know, I intended to look in on you today…Ah, here they come with the coffee.’ He went swiftly towards the door and took the tray from his secretary. ‘And cakes! Who likes cakes with cream on?’
‘I do.’
Bob Quinton looked down towards Rose Mary as his secretary said, ‘She picked them.’
‘Well, she’ll have to eat them,’ said Bob, laughing.
‘I can’t eat all the six. Anyway, Mam only lets me have one.’ Rose Mary smiled towards her mother. Then, still looking at her, she added, ‘But I could take one in a bag for David, couldn’t I, Mam?’
‘Rose Mary!’ said Mary Ann chidingly, and Rose Mary bowed her head.
It was half an hour later, and Mary Ann was sitting in the same chair, looking at Mr Blenkinsop, and Mr Blenkinsop was looking at her, and a heavy silence had fallen on them. They had the office to themselves, for Bob Quinton had thoughtfully conducted Rose Mary to the next room.
Mr Blenkinsop now blinked rapidly, placed his hands together as if in prayer, then rubbed the palms one against the other before he said, ‘How did you come to know that I was going to buy your husband out?’
‘Jimmy…our boy, he came round last night to the farm and told me. He…he thought I should know.’
‘Jimmy.’ Mr Blenkinsop’s lips were pursed, then again he said, ‘Jimmy.’ And now his eyes rolled back and he inspected a corner of the ceiling for a long moment before saying, ‘Well, well!’ Then, rising from his chair, he walked about the room. When he came to a standstill, he said, ‘And you don’t want your husband to sell?’
‘No.’ She screwed her head round. ‘He’s worked so hard, and he’s doing it because…well, of what I told you…the trouble between us.’
‘He’s a fool.’
‘What!’
Mr Blenkinsop walked round to face Mary Ann. ‘I said he’s a fool. He shouldn’t put up with this situation; he should have gone to the farm and picked you up and taken you home and spanked you.’
‘You think he should?’ Mary Ann smiled a weak smile.
‘I do.’
‘You don’t think I should have gone crawling back?’
‘He shouldn’t have given you time to do anything; he should have followed you straight away, got you by the scruff of the neck and yanked you home.’ He was smiling as he spoke, and Mary Ann, swallowing deeply, said, ‘You know, Mr Blenkinsop, you’re the only one who has said that, except…except his granny. Everybody else seems to think that I should have gone back on my own.’
‘We…ell.’ He drew out the word. ‘Perhaps I’m used to dealing with American women, but under the same circumstances if their man hadn’t come haring after them and grabbed them up and yanked them home…We…ell.’
‘That’s what a man would do if he cared for a woman, wouldn’t he, Mr Blenkinsop?’
‘Yes. Yes.’ Mr Blenkinsop suddenly stopped in his walking again. Then, thrusting his neck out and bringing his head down, he said, ‘Ah, no. Hold it a minute. Don’t let’s jump to conclusions. I’m saying that’s what men should do, but we’re talking about your man, and if he didn’t do that then there’s a very good reason for it. I’ve a very high opinion of your husband, Mrs Boyle. I haven’t known him very long but I take him to be a man of his word, a man of strong character, an honest man. Now a man with these characteristics doesn’t stay put for nothing. Is there something more in it than what you’ve told me, eh?’
Mary Ann lowered her head. ‘Perhaps. It’s a long story. It’s got to do with the children. You see, he’s always maintained that David would talk if they were separated, I think I told you. He’s been on like this for a couple of years now. And Rose Mary getting lost proved him right, and we quarrelled, and I said something to him I shouldn’t have done. It’s that I think that has prevented him from coming to me.’
‘Ah, well now, if you know that you’ve put a stumbling block in the way of him coming for you, it’s up to you to remove it, isn’t it? Fair’s fair.’
Mary Ann rose to her feet and, going to the desk and picking up her bag and gloves, said, ‘About the business of buying him out, is anything signed yet?’
There was a long pause before Mr Blenkinsop said, ‘No, no, not yet.’
‘Could…could you be persuaded to change your mind and say you don’t want it, I mean say that you are not going to buy the place after all?’
‘Well, seeing that he wants to sell, if I don’t buy somebody else will, and that wouldn’t suit my plans.’
Mary Ann turned towards him but didn’t look at him as she said, ‘You…you could say that if he sold out to anyone else you would stick to your original plan and put the buildings on the west side, Riley’s side.’
Mr Blenkinsop’s head went back and he laughed a loud laugh. Then, mopping his eyes, he said, ‘You should have been in business, Mrs Boyle, but…leave it to me…Mind, I’m not promising anything.’ He wagged his finger at her.
‘Thank you.’
‘Well now, come along, I can drop you off at the end of the farm lane. How’s that?’
Mary Ann should have said, ‘No, thank you, I’ve got other business to do in Newcastle,’ there was a job to be found, but she was tired and weary and so utterly, utterly miserable that she said, ‘I’ll be glad of a lift.’
It was about twenty minutes later that Mr Blenkinsop halted the car at the end of the farm lane and watched Bob Quinton assist Mary Ann and Rose Mary to alight, and after the goodbyes were said and Bob Quinton was once more seated beside him he drove off.
Mr Blenkinsop drove in silence for some minutes before saying, ‘Well!’
‘Yes, well,’ replied Bob Quinton.
‘What’s all this about, do you know?’
‘About you buying Corny out?’
‘Yes.’
‘I only know what she told me, that you’re going to buy the garage and run it in your own company.’
‘Well, well, well!’ The car took an S-bend, and when they were on the straight again Mr Blenkinsop said, ‘When I go back to the States I’m going to tell this story like that play that is running, you know, “A funny thing happened to me on the way to…” I’d better say on the way to a little garage tucked up a side lane. Because, you know, I don’t know a blasted thing about me going to buy him out.’
‘You don’t?’ Bob Quinton turned fully round in his seat.
‘No, not a thing; it’s all news to me. I did say to him jokingly, when I first told him of my plans, “You wouldn’t like to sell out?” and he s
aid flatly and firmly no.’
‘Well, I’ll be jiggered. But she said the boy, Jimmy, or some such name, the boy who works there, he came and told her last night.’
‘Yes, that’s what she told me too. Well! It would appear that Jimmy knows more about my business than I do myself. Perhaps he’s thought-reading, perhaps I do want to buy the garage. I don’t know. But we’ll find out when we meet Mr Boyle, eh?’ Mr Blenkinsop glanced with a merry twinkle in his eye at Bob Quinton, and, together, they laughed.
A few minutes later they drew up outside the garage and Corny came to meet them.
During the last few days Corny had averaged a loss of a pound a day weight, this was due more to worry than to the scrappy meals he had prepared for himself. And only an hour ago he had decided he couldn’t go through another day, more important still, another night of this. Whether she came back or not he would have to see her, talk to her before this thing got absolutely out of hand. There was a fear in him that it was already out of hand, the situation had galloped ahead, dragging them both with it. He had been saying to himself during the last two days what Mike had been saying to him from the beginning: why hadn’t he stopped her, grabbed her up, brought her back and shaken some sense into her? But he had let her go; he had played the big fellow, the master of his house, the master of his fate who couldn’t be…the master of his wife, the big fellow who couldn’t keep his family together. He had reached the stage where he was telling himself that he had been to blame from the beginning, that he should never have suggested the twins being separated. Yet the truth in him refuted this, and he knew that he had done right, and the proof of this was now dashing round the place chattering twenty to the dozen. Further proof was, his son had seemed to come alive before his eyes; he was no longer the shadow of his sister, he was an individual; the buried assertiveness that had at times erupted in temper was now verbal. There was no longer any fear of the boy being submerged by Rose Mary…She could come back at any minute…any minute.
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