by A. J. Cronin
Surely! Yes, as she moved about the kitchen she felt that her plan must succeed. She had long been aware that Lennox was well disposed towards her: he accepted her invitations always with a gratifying regularity. Moreover, he was not a young man; recently he had lost his partner; and he was now proposing to extend his business by the importation and distribution of this new commodity. Assuredly a propitious combination of circumstances. It was more. It was a golden opportunity.
Besides, from the other side, she was conscious that Frank’s advancement was overdue. For long enough now had he been working for a wage – a comfortable wage, no doubt, but none the less a wage – and it was time, high time he took an upward step. Her ambition for his future demanded this step; and her resolution, she felt, would compass it. She proposed, indeed, to ask Lennox to admit Frank to a partial interest in his business. And why not? Nothing could be more natural. For ten years Frank had worked as the travelling agent for the firm. And he would, of course, be prepared to purchase his share. True, their present capital was limited – she blushed almost at its inadequacy – but the balance of payment could be settled in instalments. Or Richard might come forward – where, indeed, was the risk – with an advance. The main point was to interest Lennox; and she had a premonition that by the exercise of all her tact this might be achieved tonight.
Lennox, Galton & Moore – perhaps simply Lennox & Moore. How well it sounded! Richard would be staggered when she told him; Anna would stare; and Frank – he would more fully realise her love, her loyalty, her worth. She smiled at her own concert; but there was a purpose even behind that smile.
And all at once her mood altered; her spirits rose with a forward gallop of her thoughts.
At dinner – which, by the exercise of her undoubted talents, was not so much of a ‘put-off’ as she had predicted – she was in a strange yet happy humour: a little unlike herself; riding the crest of her enthusiasm; exerting herself to please. She made unexpected little sallies; her repartee was amusing. To Anna she was ‘nice’, rather openly nice perhaps, and, facing her guest across the table, her sparkling eyes seemed to say: ‘Be as entertaining as that if you can!’ Relinquishing, momentarily, her ban on caricature, she gave a short account of Eva upon her pillows which drew a smile even from Moore.
‘What’s turned you this way all of a sudden?’ said he with a conscious look.
‘Just wait,’ she answered, ‘and you’ll see.’
It was a favourite phrase, suggestive of her capacity to arrange, to administer, to astound. Her nature was not reticent, yet now most certainly she did not propose to exhibit in advance, for their disparagement and discussion no doubt, her cherished purpose.
‘You can be awfully funny when you like, mother,’ grinned Peter.
‘I think she’s come into money,’ remarked Anna to Frank. ‘Or maybe something important is on the way.’
‘You’d be surprised,’ said Lucy conclusively, almost like a challenge.
After dinner she rose and expressed her intention of resting – a departure far from her normal habit. But this evening she was determined to be at her best; and so she went up to her bedroom. From the window she observed her son running over to the boatyard where Dave was busy on the Eagle – the ferry, if need be, would make one Sunday-breaking trip to the opposite shore. Unconsciously her brow creased. Peter’s absence inferred that Frank and Anna were downstairs together. No matter! Her mind, excited, engaged by her project, rejected for the time all interference with that project. She slipped off her frock, lay down upon the bed, and closed her eyes.
Fatigued by her restless night, it was late afternoon when she awoke: already the sun slanted a low beam upon the beribboned forget-me-nots of the bedroom wall. Nevertheless, a glance at the clock reassured her that there was ample time. For a moment she lay passive, possessed by a sense of unreality – awakening in this light, at this hour, and alone. But she shook it off, rose. She dressed carefully, slowly; did her hair becomingly. Freshened, fortified, fit to do her utmost for Frank, she went downstairs and made with Netta a final survey of the table – ‘set to the last spoon’, as Netta confidently declared.
At six the door-bell rang. She had been waiting, reassuring her faint nervousness by a last investigation of the meticulous perfection of her dining-room, and now, in honour of the occasion, she herself ran to the door.
‘Come away in, Mr Lennox,’ she cried warmly. ‘ I knew it was you. Let me help you off with your coat. Are you well?’
He parted his beard in an agreeable smile, exposing his yellowish false teeth.
‘Ay, ay, I’m not so bad,’ he affirmed with caution – meaning that he was in magnificent health. ‘And I believe I’m the better for seeing you.’
She smiled back at him. It was an excellent start.
‘We’ve always got on well, you and I,’ she said, with a modest intimacy: there was a definite atmosphere of intimacy in the narrow little hall, made narrower by the hanging of his bulky coat.
‘We have. Ay, ay, we have that,’ he affirmed, rubbing his hands together briskly. True enough. He liked Lucy Moore, in his own way. ‘ She’s fresh as a daisy,’ he often thought, ‘and a regular smarter.’ He pressed her arm as she showed him into the parlour, where the others were assembled.
‘Peter!’ she exclaimed swiftly. ‘Get up, boy, and give Mr Lennox that chair.’
‘Thank you. Thank you. I don’t care to be too near the fire. This’ll do me fine.’
She saw him comfortably established, then diplomatically led the talk into easy channels of ordinary affairs – not for her a blind, immediate rush towards the obstacle. No, no, that was not her nature! At half-past six, everything moving smoothly: Peter behaving well, Frank conversing amiably, Anna sitting in silence: she rose.
‘Now,’ she declared, and not without effusion. ‘I’m going to make the coffee myself. I know exactly how you like it, Mr Lennox.’ The blandishment was unblushing; and she knew it to be unblushing. But the cause was good.
Nevertheless, in the kitchen she did take especial pains with the coffee: a full ten minutes were occupied in its preparation: and finally, her cheeks faintly flushed from the fire, she went into the hall and sounded the gong; then slipped into the dining-room. She was waiting, hospitably, to meet them as they came in.
Supper – that banquet on which she eagerly based her hopes – began auspiciously, on a note of cordiality. It was so excellent a supper! There was tongue, an excellent cold tongue, and a plump-breasted chicken, boiled and cold. There was salad, a delicious salad, a tart juicy with those Ardmore raspberries, and cheese – a prime Dunlop. At the pleasant sight Lennox’s eye mellowed further; he widened his knees, tucked his napkin above the second button of his waistcoat.
‘My word,’ said he, with an admiring glance towards Lucy. He said no more. But it was enough.
‘Some chicken, Anna?’ said Moore, hacking at the bird. He gave her a thick white wedge of breast. ‘Blunt as usual, this knife is,’ he added, under his breath. Carving always found him at his worst.
‘Give Mr Lennox some chicken too, Frank,’ suggested Lucy; ‘the other breast.’
‘I’m partial to the tongue,’ said Lennox, delicately apportioning the mustard with his knife. ‘Try some yourself, Mrs Moore.’
‘I’m all right.’ she answered quickly: tonight her interest was centred upon his plate. ‘ You think about yourself.’
‘It’s little wonder I like to drop in here occasionally,’ said he meaningly, audibly savouring his coffee; then, wiping his beard, he turned conversationally to Anna.
‘Have you made up your mind when you go back?’
Anna smiled. Had she picked up that subtle challenge of Lucy’s at lunch? Having guessed ‘what was on the way’, did she mean in her contained ironic style to have a little quiet amusement from the evening? Certainly her manner towards Lennox was unusually pleasant, her general air more provocative than before.’
‘I’m enjoying the change right well,’ s
he said, lifting her eyes towards him.
‘She’s got no need to hurry,’ broke in Moore. ‘She can stay as long as she chooses.’
Lucy put down her cup; looked at him fixedly across the table.
‘We mustn’t interfere with Anna’s arrangements, Frank,’ she said evenly. ‘Perhaps she’s got her own plans.’
‘Oh, I’ve no arrangements at all,’ said Anna pleasantly, and as she lowered her head the light glistened across her black hair, so smooth with its natural oil. ‘And I never make plans. I just do what suits me best.’
‘You’re a very up-to-date young woman,’ said Lennox amiably.
‘Is that a compliment?’ she murmured intimately.
‘I wouldn’t say “no”; he answered, with a sly side-glance over his napkin. ‘But it’s well seen you believe in taking life easy.’
‘That’s where Anna and I differ,’ said Lucy, with an assumption of lightness, rasped a little by this camaraderie between Lennox and Anna. ‘I’ve got to have some object in view. I like to work, to get on. I’m afraid I couldn’t drift along with the stream so easily as that.’
‘It’s pleasant, though,’ returned Anna, with her vague unwavering smile, her own particular quietude, ‘to take things as they come. If you put your head down and rush at them, you’re liable sooner or later to run into a wall. What do you say, Frank? Do you like struggling for things?’ And she looked at Moore, who had kept his eyes upon his plate.
‘I don’t know,’ he answered uncomfortably. ‘ I suppose I’m like most folk. I don’t see any more fun in work than the rest. You work because you have to; not because you like it.’
At the head of the table, Lucy stiffened. Was he mad, to talk like that before Lennox, and tonight of all nights!
‘What nonsense. Frank,’ she exclaimed, marking her annoyance with an utterly factitious raillery. ‘You’re most interested in your work. Nobody knows that beter than I do. Why, only the other day you were telling me how much you liked the business; what a splendid opportunity it might give you.’
‘You ought to go in for it yourself, Lucy,’ said Anna gently, ‘seeing you think so much of it.’
Lennox gave a sudden laugh as he passed up his empty cup.
‘She’s right,’ he said abruptly – to Lucy. ‘You’ve got the spunk for it. Yes, I honestly believe you’d shape better at your husband’s job than he does himself.’ And he capped his remark by adding facetiously, ‘If ever you want the post – just let me know.’
She coloured violently, realising that for some reason, precipitated by Anna’s inopportune remark, the whole strategic position was turning against her. At this moment, when she desired urgently to convince Lennox of her husband’s undoubted qualities, here he was, decrying Frank’s worth and stupidly affirming hers. It was intolerable. Suddenly she felt the situation slipping from her felt vehemently that it would not avail to let the matter slide, felt the uselessness of relinquishing the issue in order to broach it weakly, later. No! it had arisen, and she must seize it now, grasp it definitely before it escaped her.
She took a long breath gathered her courage determinedly, unconscious of that subtle gleam of mockery in Anna’s observant eye.
‘I wanted to speak to you, Mr Lennox,’ she exclaimed, with a little rush, ‘ about this very thing – about Frank’s work.’
‘His work,’ he echoed, looking at her sideways, enquiringly. ‘Well?’
‘I know you’re extending your business.’ She hesitated, but went on resolutely, ‘I know that you’re going to develop it. And I’ve been thinking that you’ll probably require someone to help you to manage the extra amount of work involved.’
There was a long silence; she felt them looking at her. Then suddenly Anna broke in with a quick movement of her hands.
‘Your coffee’s out, Mr Lennox,’ she declared solicitously. ‘ Let me pass it up for some more.’
‘Ay, ay,’ said Lennox doubtfully. ‘Much obliged.’
Lucy accepted the cup with a restive air.
‘Have you thought of that yourself, Mr Lennox?’ she persisted firmly. ‘Considered what this development may entail?’
‘Well,’ said Lennox, prodding a slice of ham with a sudden caution, ‘ I’m not sure about the extra work. You see, I’m thinking of letting the Irish trade go easy for a bit.’ He paused; laid down his fork. ‘Besides, I’m not so young as I used to be.’
She leaned towards him, fixing him with her earnest appealing glance, her very breath quick with her eagerness.
‘That’s why I felt you might want to’ – she faltered a little, but went on bravely – ‘might want to give Frank a move up – to let him have a small interest in the business.’
It was out. And now, indeed, he stared at her with complete and undivided attention.
‘Well – well,’ he ejaculated at last. ‘You’re not blate, woman.’
At the foot of the table, Moore moved restlessly, his face flushed, his attitude expressive of acute embarrassment.
‘We don’t want to bother about that just now,’ he said, suddenly. ‘Let’s eat our supper.’
‘Will you give him the chance, Mr Lennox?’ entreated Lucy, undeterred, her lips suddenly dry. ‘I know you’ll never regret it. I promise you that. Oh, I do promise.’
He looked away under the force of her eyes: the blue was so deep, compelling; and his gaze fell on Anna, who sat wearing her curious smile.
‘What do you make of that?’ he asked her a little sheepishly. ‘Putting a question like that to a man at his supper.’
Anna looked up at him with her large full eyes. She was not tense – rather condolent, perhaps, of his present embarrassment.
‘I’m sure you don’t want to talk business now, Mr Lennox,’ said she gently, ‘not at supper, and least of all on Sunday.’
Lucy started with an irresistible impulse of anger, then swiftly checked herself. Her glance flashed towards the other woman, but, drawing herself together, she ignored the remark and said determinedly to Lennox:
‘It would be an advantage for you to have a partner. And I’m convinced my brother would make any advance that might be necessary’.
‘But, Frank,’ said Anna, widening her eyes at Moore, in an assumption of surprise. ‘Didn’t you say? I mean – you wouldn’t – surely you wouldn’t like –?’
Moore winced, his colour still high. What man likes his wife to improve his position? And before Anna too! It made him feel lazy, impotent, inept. And only that morning he had – to himself – proclaimed his intention of asserting his position in the house. Darting a resentful glance at Lucy, he muttered weakly:
‘The whole thing’s news to me. I’m not responsible for bringing it up.’
‘We’ll leave it, then, in the meantime,’ said Lennox with a short, conscious laugh. ‘Ay, ay, we’ll leave it, and maybe we’ll think about it!’
Lucy’s face paled and her bosom filled convulsively. She felt instinctively that Anna was thwarting her, and the thought impelled her forward fiercely.
‘Why not settle it now?’ she insisted in a strained voice. ‘The fact that it’s supper-time on Sunday doesn’t prevent you from saying “yes” or “no”.’
‘Well,’ he said, darting a quick glance at her, ‘maybe that was why you asked me tonight.’
She recoiled from the baldness of his statement, knowing that in essence it was true, but knowing also that it would never have been uttered but for Anna’s interference. Yet she ignored the issue.
‘You’ve known us a long time now, Mr Lennox,’ she persisted, keeping her tone level and forcing a smile; ‘and Frank’s been with you ten years. Surely it’s worth considering. Please do think of it.’
Again he laid down his fork and pulled at his crinkly beard, manifestly disturbed.
‘It’s hardly a question of “yes” or “no”,’ he said awkwardly. ‘There’s more to it than that. I’m not one to favour quick chopping and changing.’
And again Anna broke in with he
r reasonable voice.
‘And if you were changing,’ she inserted gently, ‘ wouldn’t it be a fair idea to give Frank the Belfast agency? He did well that time he was over. And the man you’ve got now isn’t much good.’
Lucy’s head drew back sharply: really it was too much! Anna, interfering, distorting the vital issue in question, advising Lennox to give Frank this paltry advancement – this agency only slightly superior to his present post. It was maddening.
Again that impulse swept over her, the impulse towards some outrageous speech, towards violent outrageous action. What business was it of Anna’s – this unpardonable, maddening interference? She could contain herself no longer. Turning from Lennox, she looked fixedly at the other woman, and in a quivering voice declared:
‘This seems hardly your affair, Anna! I have no particular desire to go to Ireland.’
‘It’s not a bad place, mind you,’ said Anna agreeably. ‘It rains a lot, but that keeps things green. My word, you should see the shamrocks.’ Her ingenuousness was diabolic.
‘It wouldn’t suit us,’ returned Lucy, breathing quickly, pressed by an urgency to strike back furiously. ‘Though it may suit you. No doubt you’ve found it very entertaining there? No doubt you have your reasons for liking it?’
‘Well, maybe I have,’ said Anna meditatively.
‘Some reason of your own perhaps?’
‘You never can tell,’ answered Anna, without the movement of an eyelid.
A strained moment followed, during which Lennox cocked his eye at the ceiling and Moore looked glumly at the fire. The harmony of the evening seemed suddenly disrupted.
‘You see,’ broke in Lennox – he had now had time to collect his obduracy – ‘I’ve got my own ways of working. If you study everybody, you study nobody. Wholesale confusion.’
There was a long silence during which she felt the painful throbbing of her heart.
Wholesale confusion! And he had been on the verge of yielding. She knew it. And now, through Anna’s insufferable interference, he had all at once turned unsympathetic; and he might remain unsympathetic, intolerant, unamenable to suggestion for months to come. It was infuriating. Her enterprise, defeated, shattered, smashed to atoms. And by Anna.
