The Woman From Heartbreak House

by Freda Lightfoot

  Lucy pushed her face close to Kate’s, spitting with fury. ‘You got what you deserved. Serve you right for thrusting your way into Eliot’s bed all those years ago. Fortunately he’s dead and gone, and your power with him. The family doesn’t have to tolerate you and your brats any longer. They were glad to see you go and certainly don’t want you back.’ And laughing with bitter satisfaction, she walked away.

  Kate remained where she was, desperately striving for control, fists clenched in furious frustration. It was like battering against a stone wall, nothing moved the woman, nothing could break that ice-cold certainty that Lucy could do exactly as she pleased with other people’s lives. What on earth had she been up to while Kate had been away? That was the worry. She was soon to discover the answer to that particular question.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Kate found the letter on the hall table. It was addressed to Lucy, bearing a local postmark but she knew at once who had sent it. Hadn’t she received enough formal letters from the bank manager herself to recognise the typeface of his secretary’s typewriter: the e for instance had a break on the left side, and the dot of the i always left a little hole. This letter was undoubtedly from the bank and although it carried Lucy’s name on it – Mrs L. Tyson, Director, it was addressed to Tyson’s Shoe Industries. Unquestionably a business letter. Kate picked it up and slit open the envelope.

  As she read it she could actually hear the blood singing in her ears. She felt herself grow hot and cold as if she were back in that room, being induced into a fever.

  Then she collected her coat and walked out of the house before anyone saw her.

  ‘What is this all about? Why does the bank manager wish to see me so urgently?’ She put the letter on to Toby’s desk, watching carefully for any change of expression. There was none. He wasn’t in the least bit surprised.

  Wearily, he said, ‘I was going to tell you today, on your first day back in the office. I didn’t tell you before, Kate, because I couldn’t bear to spoil your first nights of freedom by revealing the truth about what was happening here.’ He smiled ruefully at her. ‘I’m not keen to spoil your first day back at work with too much reality either, but it must be done. I informed the bank that you were home. Sadly, they must have sent someone round with this by hand. ’

  ‘Why the urgency?’

  ‘Because our finances aren’t good, I’m afraid.’

  From the moment Kate had opened the letter, she’d felt sick with worry. She’d tried to prepare herself for possible bad news on her return: perhaps hearing that the new line of ladies’ shoes had been a failure or not sold as well as expected, for instance. Or that there had been strikes and production had failed maybe. It seemed she was right to be concerned. ‘What is it, Toby? Tell me what has gone wrong.’

  He sank into a chair, running a hand through his hair. ‘God knows what she does with the money. I hate to gossip, Kate, but some of it must have been used to pay for that new Daimler.‘

  ‘Daimler?’ Kate paled. ‘We can’t afford to pay for a ...’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Are you trying to tell me that Lucy has been on one of her spending sprees again? Oh, dear Lord, no. Not more trouble.’

  She swayed on her feet and Toby leaped to her side, making her sit down and personally fetched her a cup of tea. Only when he was sure that she had drunk it, even though she refused the biscuit he brought with it, did he begin to explain, gently and tactfully, all that had gone on in her absence.

  He described the way Lucy had interfered in the business all along the line, increasing her personal allowance and the household budget; how she’d hired more maids and the expensive French chef. ‘Not only that but she’s disposed of some of our best operatives and replaced Sam Blenkinsop by putting Jack in charge of sales and marketing, yet he isn’t bringing in the orders. Sam had the greater experience and did much better. And she insisted on making Jack a director.’

  Fear gnawed at Kate. It felt as if she had failed, as if she’d let Eliot down by not properly protecting his bequest. She’d failed to protect his trees and, even more vital, his business. Kate had always believed that Tyson’s Industries would be safe in her hands, yet it had not been. ‘Surely the company can’t be in too much danger? Our borrowings are low, our assets high.’

  ‘Not any longer.’ Toby’s discomfiture increased as he outlined Lucy’s visits to the bank manager, the loans she had taken out, the mortgage on the house.

  Kate felt as though someone had kicked her in the chest, robbing her of breath. ‘How dare she? How could she do such a thing without my agreement?’

  Toby shook his head. ‘You weren’t in any position to stop her, Kate. I expect she convinced the bank manager you were gone for good, that she had power of attorney.’

  ‘But what has she done with these loans? What has happened to all the money? How can we have reached such a state in less than twelve months?’

  ‘We were just hanging on. With the post-war boom over and industry in a slump, we depended upon the new lines you’d set up for our survival. Unfortunately, when the orders started pouring in, I didn’t have sufficient operatives to carry out the work. Lucy had sacked them. We got behind, customers became irritated and disillusioned and finally took their trade elsewhere. It’s been a downward spiral ever since and I’ve had to lay off more and more men because I don’t have the work to give them.

  ‘Even old established customers are bailing out and Jack’s failed to stem the tide. He’s been too busy enjoying himself, living for today, just like his mother. As for Lucy, she’s not only been spending wildly on her own account, it turns out she has also been lending money to those nefarious friends of hers: darling Teddy and the Bennet boys, to mention but a few. Both the accountant and myself tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen. We’ve done our best to make cuts, reduce expenditure, but with the best will in the world money has been bleeding away faster than we can earn it.’

  Kate glanced again at the letter, holding it in a hand trembling with shock. ‘And now that I’m home, the bank manager expects me to put everything right?’

  ‘I believe he may be growing rather impatient.’

  There was a silence. Kate was the one to break it. ‘I don’t seem to be doing very well, do I? Eliot trusted me with his company and I seem to be losing it.’

  ‘Not you, Kate. Dear, sweet Kate, it isn’t your fault.’

  She glanced up, surprised by the unexpected endearment, to find his eyes burning into hers. Something lurched deep inside her, some unexpected response which surprised her. Toby was ... Toby was her manager, an employee, the man she worked with. Nothing more. Or was that no longer true?

  ‘Don’t blame yourself. It’s not for me to say who is to blame, but the fault does not lie with you, Kate, of that I am quite certain. I too feel guilty. I wanted to hand back to you a healthy, thriving business, not one on the verge of bankruptcy.’

  ‘Bankruptcy? Surely not.’ She looked at him more carefully, saw the haunted expression in his eyes, the gauntness of his face. While she’d been battling with Elvira and freezing baths, he’d had Lucy to contend with. Battles of his own to fight. It couldn’t have been easy.

  She stretched out a hand to grasp his, and his fingers curled around hers. ‘Toby, whatever happens I want you to know that no blame will be attached to you. I do not hold you responsible in any way for the state of the business or the behaviour of my sister-in-law. How could I when she is quite beyond control? Beyond the pale.’

  They each managed a wry smile at that, despite the bleak reality they were facing.

  He stroked her hand, his gaze fixed upon hers. ‘I appreciate your faith in me more than I can say. It’s been hell these last months, worrying about where you might be, when and how we could find you and bring you home. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to see you back in this office.’

  Kate gazed up into his darkly mysterious grey eyes and found it quite impossible to look away. ‘Thank you for no
t giving up on me. There seemed to be very little I could do to get myself out of that place.’

  Another silence, a little longer this time. ‘Do you know what I’m thinking now?’

  She shook her head.

  ’That I would like, very much, to kiss you. There, I’ve said it. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I won’t take it back. I must be drunk with the joy of having you home. The sight of you here at last has quite gone to my head.’ He gave a sheepish smile, and Kate chuckled.

  ‘Perhaps, as my rescuer, you deserve a reward.’ She leaned forward to place a kiss full on his lips. The feel of his mouth moving against hers was extraordinary, catching her unawares with the emotion it unleashed. He gathered her face between his hands, holding her gently while he kissed her some more. Except that this one was not in the least little bit gentle. It held passion and power, urgency and desire, creating in her a need she didn’t dare put a name to. Kate had quite forgotten how it felt to be so close to a man, to be needed. She wanted the feeling to go on for ever but he suddenly pulled away, turned abruptly from her.

  It felt like a slap in the face.

  He stood at the window, fists clenched, shoulders hunched, staring out at the river. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. That was unforgivable, a bad mistake.’

  Kate’s cheeks were flushed with embarrassment and she didn’t know what to say, where to look, didn’t know how to ease the awkwardness of the moment. To be kissed with such passion and then told it was a bad mistake seemed wrong somehow. Almost an insult. ‘Is that all it was, a mistake?’

  Toby turned to face her, his expression cool and distant, clearly back in control of his emotions. ‘I believe so. You are my employer. We don’t have that kind of relationship. I overstepped the mark in a moment of weakness. I apologise.’

  ‘I thought perhaps it was because you wanted to welcome me home, that you couldn’t help yourself?’

  Something flickered in his gaze, but was gone again before she could properly read it. ‘Then I should practise more self-control, show proper respect.’

  Kate stared at him, trying to understand what lay behind his words, trying to decide what she felt. Was it his respect she wanted, or something quite different? ‘You think that would be best, do you?’

  ‘I do, in the circumstances. You have enough problems already.’

  Kate looked away, rubbed a finger over the trace of a headache. He might be right about that. She straightened her spine. ‘I’d better go and keep my appointment with the bank manager.’

  Toby seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as if he’d dug himself into a hole and she had just rescued him from it. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

  Kate shook her head. ‘No, better I deal with this on my own.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Call me if you need me.’

  Later that same day, Kate sat on the edge of her bed too numb to cry, too stunned even to think properly. It was all over. Everything was lost. No use now ranting at Lucy, accusing her of greed and selfishness, of stupidly throwing away all their futures on a hedonistic splurge of high living.

  Where was the point?

  It was all far too late, and no one would suffer more than Lucy herself. She’d been determined, at any cost, to own the goose that laid the golden eggs, and her own insatiable greed, her appetite for spending, had killed it.

  Kate had spent the afternoon closeted with the bank manager. It had been the most difficult and painful interview she’d ever endured. The accountants were eventually called in. Toby too had come along later, eager to do what he could to help, despite his earlier reluctance to be involved. For what seemed like hours they’d all pored over the books, studying the figures, discussing, arguing, debating over what could be done.

  No solution had been found.

  Finally, and painfully, a meeting of the entire board had been called and the directors informed, with all due sorrow and regret, that Tyson’s Industries was no more. They were finished. The company had gone bankrupt.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Selling up was hard. Kate sat in the loft of the summer house for hour upon hour, remembering, saying her own private farewells. Most painful of all was the destruction of Eliot’s garden following the loss of his precious trees, dug up for a tennis court that none of them would ever now play on. Strangely, she grieved more for the lost trees than for Tyson Lodge itself, this fine old Lakeland mansion. They’d come to symbolise not only Eliot’s love for his son and family, but his hopes for the future, one now lost to them all.

  This house, she decided, had brought her nothing but heartbreak, particularly in recent years, and she would take her leave of it without regret. She and Eliot had enjoyed a few happy years here, but in the main Kate had found more misery than happiness within its four walls.

  For this reason she was determined to be resolute, to accept what fate had dealt her. Nevertheless, the day the bailiffs moved in was harder than she could ever have imagined. The reality of losing everything was utterly devastating. The family were allowed to keep their clothes and a few personal items, but not much else.

  Vera remained hatchet-faced throughout the entire ordeal, watching men crawl all over Tyson Lodge, riffling through drawers for any valuables and then carrying them away; walking off with objects that she considered belonged to the family and should not be removed.

  Not simply the new sofas, dining table and chairs that Lucy had bought, but other more precious items: pictures that had hung on the walls for decades; vases, oriental jars, various throws and cushions; an elephant’s foot umbrella stand that used to stand in the hall; a china cabinet crammed with unrelated pieces of Wedgwood and Royal Doulton; several small Japanese tables; even a selection of silver photo frames still holding formal family portraits.

  ‘Give that to me!’ Aunt Vera roared at one of the bailiffs. ‘Let me at least remove the photographs.’

  ‘Begging yer pardon, ma’am.’

  She pounced on another unfortunate soul. ‘Put that statuette down this instant, young man. You’ll break the head off if you carry it in such a careless fashion. And take your grubby little hands off those lace antimacassars, if you please. They were my grandmother’s.’

  Mortified, he apologised most profusely, was discreet and respectful, calling her Miss Tyson as was only right and proper, but still he walked off with the object in question.

  What hurt the aunts most was that each and every item would be sold at Kendal Auction Rooms, putting their humiliation on public display. Cissie’s handkerchief was soon sopping wet with her constant tears.

  Kate watched them both with increasing pity and sorrow. Poor Cissie. Poor Vera. They had hoped to end their days in peace and comfort, not in shame and bankruptcy. This would necessitate a return to their dull little house in Heversham, and without an allowance from the factory the two maiden ladies would be obliged to take in lodgers to provide themselves with an income.

  For her own part, Kate watched the possessions go without a trace of regret. She’d quite liked the drawing room as it had been before, with its faded, shabby blue sofas, the scratched walnut sideboard and rugs full of dog hairs. Its reincarnation, under Lucy’s regime, had resembled nothing so much as a museum; a ‘symphony of light and shade’, was the way her sister-in-law had described it. All white and gold with elegant French sofas and pretty little tables whose legs looked thin enough to snap if anything heavier than a cup was set upon them. Very much Lucy’s style.

  Who, in Kendal, would pay good money for such items? Kate wondered. No doubt some of Lucy’s friends might, and she would have the humiliation of spotting pieces whenever she called on them, perhaps being obliged to take tea on her own sofa in Teddy’s house, or to see her finest, long stemmed champagne glasses acquired by the Bennet boys.

  She would be mortified.

  Jack had fled abroad in a furious sulk, determined to make his fortune in France or Italy. He’d refused even to speak to his mother since it all came out, having belie
ved in her utterly: thinking the directorship would make him free to live the life of a gentleman without the necessity to work at all. There’d been a painful row between them, Jack accusing her of cheating on him, her own son.

  Georgie had been obliged to leave school early, giving up all hope of going to university, and he too would now be seeking employment.

  Strangely, the worst moment came when the newly appointed French chef left in a huff after a furious row with one of the bailiffs who had attempted to deprive him of a fine set of steel knives. It became almost farcical but this, more than anything served to bring home to Lucy what she had lost and she threw the most stupendous tantrum, stamping her feet and lashing out at anyone who came near. Kate thought she would remember her furious screams to the end of her days.

  Vera was so alarmed she called the doctor who attempted to calm Lucy at first with a few severe words, then a light sedative, and finally, when her hysterics threatened to get entirely out of control, with a sharp slap across her cheek.

  That certainly did the trick, although Kate rather thought the result would be that Lucy would be finding herself a new doctor in future.

  When it was all done and the house completely emptied, Kate handed the keys to the bailiffs and Toby drove the two maiden aunts, together with Lucy, to Heversham.

  Cissie did her utmost to persuade Kate to come too but she declined.

  ‘I know our old house is old and shabby, has been unlived in for a long while and we shan’t be able to afford servants. Lucy is already complaining about that. I know she is quite impossible but we must look after her, do you see. She is family, and so are you, my dear. Are you sure you wouldn’t be better off with us? You’d be most welcome.’

  Kate kissed and hugged the old woman close, tears threatening to fall. ‘No, dear Cissie, haven’t ye been like an aunt to me too over the years, and to my children? I can’t imagine how I would have coped without you. You’ve come to be a very dear friend, but I must go me own way. I need a change, a new beginning, d’you see?’