by Anne Baker
He was studying her now across his desk. ‘I remember you doing a secretarial course some years ago. Then you went to work for the civil service. Goodness, time passes so quickly. Tell me about the work you did there.’
‘My previous jobs have been mostly bookkeeping, but I can do office work of every sort.’
‘Miss Gibbs will be with us for another fortnight. Why don’t I ask her to show you what she does? Two weeks should give you time to pick it up, d’you think?’
‘You’re going to let me take her place?’ Chloe was astounded. ‘She has the top secretarial job here.’
‘Yes, you could manage that, couldn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she said with as much confidence as she could muster. ‘Yes, I’ve got my shorthand and typing speeds up by doing the temporary job at Owen Owens.’
‘The other girls will help you until you find your feet.’
‘It’s just that I’m more used to working with figures.’
‘Chloe, if you have two children to support,’ his manner was paternalistic, ‘you need a job that pays a reasonable salary. I understand that children can be very expensive.’
‘They can.’
‘Let’s do that then, and see how you get on. You agree? If you find it too much, I could promote Miss McDonald and give you her job.’
‘No, I’d like to try working for you.’
‘Good.’
‘You’re very kind to me, Uncle Walter.’ Chloe could feel tears scalding her eyes. ‘I’ll do my very best.’
Maureen Gibbs came in then with the coffee. Chloe was relaxed enough to look at her now and found that she was pretty and not much older than she was. It made her feel she’d be able to do her job.
Uncle Walter took her round the offices and introduced her to the staff. She knew she wouldn’t remember all their names; there were just too many at once. He said, ‘I’m afraid the accountant, Francis Clitheroe, is not in this afternoon, so you won’t see him until Monday.’
Then he showed her round his factory, and Chloe was captivated. He pointed out the mounds of barley, wheat and maize waiting to be crushed, the dried meat, the linseed oil, the brewer’s grains, the yeast and the fish meal that was used in cat food. She was introduced to John Walsh, the production manager, who explained how the various recipes were made up and vitamins and minerals added. He took her through the drying rooms, where she saw the chopped meat, fish and vegetables being prepared; then on to the packing department, where the colourful labels were being attached to the different packages, showing whether it was intended to feed hamsters and guinea pigs or cats and dogs. It was a busy place.
When she was leaving, she said, ‘Thank you, Uncle Walter, for giving me this chance. I’m very grateful.’
‘Monday, then,’ he said. ‘Nine till five. I’ll put it all in writing for you, as I do for other employees.’
‘Yes. Is it all right for me to go on calling you Uncle Walter?’
He pondered for a moment. ‘Perhaps Mr Bristow would be better while we’re here.’ His smile was both broad and friendly, and she wanted to kiss his cheek as she did when she visited his home.
Monday morning was very wet. Rain was splattering against the windows as Chloe tried to dress both Lucy and herself. She needed to look her best for her first day at work, because Miss Gibbs and the other girls she’d seen working there had looked very smart. She piled her fair hair up into a large bun on top of her head. It was a style Mum thought suited her very well.
‘Shall I run you over to Bootle in the car?’ Helen offered as they ate breakfast. ‘You’ll get wet through in this.’
‘No thanks, Mum. I give you enough trouble as it is, and I’ve got to get used to going on the bus.’
‘Take my umbrella, then, it’s a big one. You’ll need it if you have to wait at the bus stop.’
Chloe wore her new mackintosh and carried her new shoes in a bag. She was glad of the large umbrella, though it was heavy and she could hardly see where she was going. The bus was all steamed up inside, and when she got out, the rain was coming down in sheets. She joined the steady stream of workers hurrying along the street to their offices.
She’d only been once to this part of town and almost missed the entrance. At the last moment she veered across the pavement towards it, closing her umbrella. She heard an involuntary gasp of distress, and once she was in the dry she turned to find the cause.
‘I’m sorry,’ she faltered. She could see that she’d doused the office worker following her with rainwater off her umbrella.
He followed her inside the entrance. ‘I took that full in the face,’ he told her, mopping at it with his handkerchief.
‘I’m so sorry.’ She knew exactly what she’d done. She’d half closed her umbrella and then flipped it open and shut it quickly in order to shake the rain off. It was what she always did. ‘I didn’t realise there was anyone close enough …’
He’d taken off his spectacles and was drying them too. ‘It’s all right, no real harm done.’ He replaced them, shook the rain off his hat and half smiled at her. ‘I haven’t seen you before, have I? Do you work here?’
‘As of today.’
‘Just starting? A secretary?’
Chloe felt that his heavy glasses screened his face and she had to look twice to see anything more of it. He looked polished, as though he spent a lot of time and energy turning himself out smartly.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Where will I find the ladies’ cloakroom?’
‘Oh, we’ve just passed it, sorry.’ He retraced his steps to point it out.
Inside, Chloe met up with Miss Gibbs. ‘I’m Maureen,’ the older woman said as she showed Chloe where she could leave her wet clothes. Then she led the way to the office she shared with the other secretaries and introduced her. ‘Everybody, this is Chloe Redwood, who’s to take over my job.’
They all smiled and said hello. ‘This is Lydia Tomlin, she works for the accountant, and this is Clarice, Mrs Parks, our accounts clerk.’ Both women were already hard at work.
‘We have a new accountant.’ Mrs Parks smiled. ‘He’s reviewing everything and wants all our duties listed. He’s working us to the bone.’
‘This is Rosemary McDonald.’ She was dark and slender. ‘She’s shared between the sales manager and the buyer. And this is . . .’
‘Angela Smith,’ Chloe said, nodding at the young redhead. ‘I met Angela the day I came for interview.’
‘She works for the production manager.’ Maureen Gibbs pulled a spare typewriter from a cupboard and set it up on a table. ‘You can work here until I go. It’s not the best of typewriters, I’m afraid, but it does work.’
‘I hope I’ll remember all your names and what you do.’ Chloe was struggling to smile and look at ease.
They were all trying to explain the set-up to her when Chloe heard a buzzer. ‘That’s Mr Clitheroe, the accountant,’ Maureen Gibbs said. ‘It means he wants something. He probably has letters to dictate.’
‘Oh lord!’ his secretary groaned. ‘He never stops.’
‘Today there’s help at hand.’ Maureen Gibbs went hastily to the cupboard again and pushed a new shorthand pad and a couple of pencils into Chloe’s hands. ‘We all muck in together here, and Mr Clitheroe is a good place for you to start. His letters are all short and to the point. Is that all right?’
‘Yes, fine.’
‘Oh, and Mr Bristow said I’m to be sure to introduce you, as he wasn’t in when you came on Friday.’
Chloe took a deep breath. This would be a nervous moment for anyone starting a new job. She had to prove she could do it.
‘This building is a bit of a warren,’ Maureen Gibbs said over her shoulder as they climbed stairs and hurried along dark corridors. ‘I hope you’ll be able to find your way back to us.’
Chloe tried to concentrate on where she was being taken. Miss Gibbs threw open a door and ushered her inside.
‘Mr Francis Clitheroe,’ she said, and then turned to him, ‘t
his is Miss Redwood, who will be taking my place when I go.’
Chloe raised her eyes to meet those of the man she’d recently doused with water. He was staring at her. She couldn’t stifle her groan of dismay, but she managed to move forward to shake the hand he offered. Maureen had things to tell him, and when she took her leave, it seemed he was ready to dictate. In a daze Chloe sat down on the chair he waved her to, opened the pad on the first page and grasped one of the pencils. Her hand was shaking. She felt she’d got off on the wrong foot.
Concentrate, she told herself sternly. You’ve got to get the shorthand right. You’ve got to produce clean and accurate letters for him, you mustn’t give him any reason to complain about your work. He must already think you’re a clumsy fool.
When the office door closed behind Chloe, Leo took a deep breath and leaned back in his executive leather chair. He’d made up his mind before taking up this job and becoming Francis Clitheroe that he’d form no close relationships with the staff; it wouldn’t be safe.
Until today he’d taken no interest in the girls, but Chloe Redwood was different. She seemed diffident; she’d looked at him shyly through her long lashes. She was a stunner and might be just his type. But he’d heard she was related to the boss, so he needed to stay well away from her.
He’d turned down the offer of going for a drink after work with the sales manager, Alan Bryant, pleading that he had other things he had to do, which was true. But he’d been unable to avoid walking to a local café at lunchtime with John Walsh, the production manager, to have a bowl of soup and a sandwich.
To his dismay, he’d found the other managers collected at a large table there. They didn’t all go every day, but there was always some of the staff there. Leo was running out of excuses to avoid going, but he couldn’t let it develop into a regular habit. He found it very hard work, keeping his ears open and a close watch on his tongue at the same time. It suited him better to go for a walk on his own and buy something to eat, or slip into some other café. He needed to switch off in his lunch hour.
He felt as though he’d been walking on eggshells since he’d started the job. He could never relax and let himself go. He’d had to keep his nerves on a tight rein; he was senior staff and had to show calm confidence at all times, even if he was dithering inside. He studied every letter addressed to the accountant, and thought through every reply before he dictated it. He went back to his lodging promptly at five o’clock to study accountancy in all its forms, but most of all the accounts of the previous year put together by Tom Cleary.
One of the first things Cleary had told him was that the company’s financial year had ended in December and that the accounts had been audited then. He saw that as a blessing. It gave him time to put his plans into action and be well away before the current year ended.
Leo felt cock-a-hoop. He’d managed the hard part; now he could concentrate on the fun part. He’d been working out how he could shift some of the company’s money into his own account, and now was the time to start doing it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
DURING THE DAYS THAT followed, Chloe settled in. She found the other girls welcoming and friendly; Lydia Tomlin never stopped talking. ‘I’m not keen on our new accountant,’ she told everybody. Chloe could see that he wasn’t popular with the other girls.
Only Clarice Parks said, ‘He’s only been working here for a short time, he hasn’t found his feet yet.’
‘He’s cold and stand-offish,’ Lydia said. ‘I’ve tried to be friendly but I’m wasting my time.’
‘He’s like a fish out of water,’ little red-haired Angela Smith said. ‘I don’t think he knows what he’s doing.’
‘He gives me the collywobbles.’ Rosemary McDonald was taller than he was. ‘He looks at me as though he’s afraid I’ll bite him.’
Chloe understood that; he made her feel uncomfortable too. Whenever she was with him, she could feel his dark eyes behind their heavy spectacles following every movement she made.
Uncle Walter said that he was very pleased with him; he worked hard and had taken to studying the accounts from previous years so he could get to know the business thoroughly.
Chloe, however, thought him dour. He conformed to what she thought a senior accountant should look like. He was not much more than her own height, and lightly built. His dark hair was neatly brushed back, his face was narrow and his forehead high. His heavy glasses seemed his most noticeable feature. He wore suits by Daks – her days at Owen Owens enabled her to distinguish between brands – smart shirts and always a silk tie and polished shoes.
One day he asked for somebody to take his letters when Lydia was down in the factory working for the production manager, so once again Chloe went along.
He had ready a heap of files on his desk. Opening them one by one, he dictated short letters in a flat, expressionless voice, then built another pile of files for her to take away with her. She was delighted to find she had no trouble keeping up with him.
When he’d finished, he pushed the files across his desk to Chloe. As she scooped them up in her arms, she heard something drop to the floor. She stooped to pick up a silver propelling pencil and couldn’t help but notice the initials LH engraved on it.
‘Is this yours?’
‘Yes.’
‘Very nice,’ she said, putting it back on his desk. His reaction surprised her; his thin face had gone white and stiff, and suddenly she could feel his tension. He was positively radiating it.
‘A special pencil?’
‘Very special.’ Mr Clitheroe was recovering. ‘It belonged to a friend of mine.’ Chloe thought him rather a strange person.
Uncle Walter dictated fewer but longer and more complicated letters, but she had no difficulty with them, as he stopped to think and spoke more slowly. He was paternalistic to all the staff and they couldn’t do enough for him. Chloe was trying to see him not only as her uncle but also as her boss. She thought that once she’d settled in and got to know what was expected of her, she’d be able to relax and be happy here.
Maureen Gibbs left, and Chloe heard a full report of her wedding from other members of staff. They each received a sliver of her wedding cake. Gradually Chloe was getting to know the people she worked with and picking up facts about them. Rosemary had a boyfriend who worked in the sales department. Lydia was engaged to a chemist. There was an undertow of gossip, of affairs between different members of staff, and on the whole they all got along in harmony.
Chloe began to enjoy their company and her busier days. She felt in control again, and that she could put her bad times behind her.
A few weeks later, Rex said to Helen as she brought two mugs of tea to a seat in the garden, ‘Chloe’s settled down, she seems happier.’
‘Yes, and so does Marigold. She was absolutely awful when she first came, and then when Chloe had to come home with her two I thought I’d made a big mistake and there’d be no peace for any of us.’
‘But it’s all worked out,’ Rex said. ‘You’ve settled down very nicely together.’
‘It’s the tranquillity of this garden.’ Helen sighed with pleasure and listened to a thrush singing in the oak tree behind them.
‘I think Marigold is happier because she now has some purpose in life.’
‘Who would have thought she’d take over responsibility for the kids like this?’ Helen asked. ‘She’s quite strict with them, and they’re good for her. Chloe was notified that Zac was due for vaccination, so she’s taken them to the clinic this afternoon. Goldie was used to looking after Gran, and now they’ve taken her place.’
‘But it’s changed our lives,’ Rex said gently. ‘I can’t have you to myself any more.’
‘I know, we’re both missing out. I can’t have you to spend the night with me.’
‘But that’s why I bought Newburn Cottage. So you could come to me.’
Helen put both hands to her face. ‘I feel a bit embarrassed about doing that. I tell them you’ve asked me out for dinn
er.’
‘Well usually I have, even if we eat at my house. You come for a few hours, but you never stay overnight with me. I miss that.’
‘So do I.’ There was a real weight of feeling in her voice. ‘But Marigold has a sharp tongue. There’d be no hiding it from her if I stayed out all night.’
She was looking up at him half dazzled by the sun. Rex felt a sudden surge of pure love for her sweep through him; it knocked him off balance. But why should it surprise him? He’d been making love to her regularly, it was impossible not to be drawn closer and closer to her. Helen was a warm and loving person; he knew her through and through and he didn’t want to be separated from her in this way.
‘We’re allowed to live as we please too,’ he said with a catch in his voice. ‘I love you, Helen. I want us to be together.’ He felt for her hand; she moved closer and rested her head against his shoulder. For years he’d been thinking of her as a friend, but what he felt for her went much deeper than friendship. It had grown slowly and steadily; he did truly love her.
‘Why don’t I book a table somewhere nice and then you can come back with me for the night?’ His voice shook. ‘Couldn’t you say to Marigold, I might be late tonight, or I might not come back at all, and then walk straight out before she or Chloe can say anything? It would be kinder that way, wouldn’t it? They won’t be worried if they find your bed hasn’t been slept in.’
She smiled, ‘You think of everybody’s feelings, Rex.’
He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. ‘Helen, love …’ he was about to propose marriage. It was on the tip of his tongue but he felt her pulling away from him. He looked up to see Lucy heading across the grass to them, followed by Marigold with Zac in her arms.
‘I’ll do it,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ll stay overnight.’
That evening, Rex watched Helen’s car pull into his drive. He could see her triumphant mood as she came striding to his door, swinging her overnight bag.
