‘Advertise? Tysons have never needed to stoop so low in the past. Why should we start now?’ Eliot asked, in a tone which set advertising on a par with opening a brothel.
‘Advertising is going to become increasingly important as firms compete for business through what could be a nasty post-war slump.’
‘The Times is saying quite the opposite, predicting the boom will last.’
‘Excellent. I hope they are right. However, we must make sure that we are a part of it if it does, and can survive if it doesn’t.’
Eliot made a sound something like ‘Harrumph!’ He was beginning to feel like an outsider, a stranger in his own company, in his own home almost. Nothing was quite the same in his home-town of Kendal, or England for that matter. Women were working and yet skilled men were in short supply since so many had been killed. Prices were soaring. Station porters were earning three pounds a week, while officers and gentlemen were walking the streets with no job to go to at all.
Lloyd George’s government seemed hell-bent on bringing in all manner of legislation to control the railways, roads, canals and docks, working hours and wages, even intending to meddle in land with an iniquitous new tax. They’d be nationalising all of industry before long, the way they were going on.
Even his own wife was lecturing him.
Eliot almost longed for the regular routine of parade and drill, of giving his men their orders which they obediently carried out. Simple. Much easier than all of this politics, the constant discussion of boom or bust, this confusion of choices and worrying need for decisions.
He wanted things to continue exactly as they had before the war, when Swainson ran things for him without bothering him about trifles. Instead of which he had this Toby Lynch character knocking on his door every five minutes wanting a decision on this, that, or the other. Eliot longed for a placid backwater, for peace!
Kate was saying, ‘We must create eye-catching posters and let everyone know what wonderful shoes Tyson’s produces. That we offer style and fashion, show how much trouble we take to provide the correct fitting. Ladies must be able to buy our shoes with confidence.’
Lucy said, ‘My word, you seem to have thought this out most thoroughly. All carefully planned even before dear Eliot has had the chance to settle in.’
Eliot frowned, clearly not liking the inference behind her remark.
Kate simply ignored her. ‘It will be good for Kendal, and good for the men newly returned from the trenches to know that they have a long and secure future with the firm. Don’t you see, Eliot, that this is the way forward? The war is over, now we must make shoes for a new peace.’
But he didn’t see. Or at least, if he did, he wasn’t admitting as much.
Lucy’s remark had hit home and Kate could tell that he hated the fact that she had come up with the idea first, before him. He was even jealous of Toby Lynch for having solved some of the manufacturing problems in order to produce this lighter footwear.
‘I will think about your suggestions,’ he said, rather portentously. ‘And make my decision when I am good and ready. I thank you for minding the factory for me, Kate. You’ve done a splendid job, but I am the master, don’t forget, and I won’t allow Tyson’s to become the kind of factory which produces slip-shod work.’
‘Hear, hear,’ echoed Lucy, who wouldn’t have known a well-made shoe from a bad, caring only for the look of the thing.
Kate sighed, trying to smile and appear unconcerned. My goodness, but he’d grown proud and obstinate. It was one thing to refuse to use a walking stick when he was clearly in pain, quite another to risk the livelihood of the entire workforce. However, she wasn’t yet ready to admit defeat, although persuading her husband to agree to her plan wasn’t going to be nearly as straightforward as she’d hoped.
After the meeting, Lucy waylaid Eliot and took the opportunity to put in a word for Jack. ‘He has completed his education and will soon be seeking a situation. I trust there will be ... I mean, I rather hoped that he might ...’ Lucy was appalled by her own dithering. What on earth was the matter with her? Could it have something to do with the bland expression of disinterest on Eliot’s face, which gave the impression that he wasn’t even properly listening to her? She straightened her spine. ‘What I am trying to say, Eliot, is that I assume there will be a place for him at Tyson’s? He is family, after all. Your own brother’s eldest son.’
‘I am aware of who he is.’
‘And then there is darling Bunty, who really must be properly finished.’
‘Must she indeed?’ He raised one dark eyebrow in that way he had when something amused him.
He might give every impression of taking life seriously, which he deemed appropriate where his own offspring were concerned, but when it came to his nephews and niece, it was quite a different matter. They were apparently to be viewed as some sort of joke. Lucy made up her mind to say so, but then Kate chose that moment to walk through the hall and he half turned away to follow her.
‘Eliot?’ Lucy grabbed him by the arm to remind him that he still hadn’t answered her question. ‘I was asking about Jack. He is to join the management team in September, isn’t he? I would like to reassure him that his future is settled.’
‘Lucy dear, I confess I haven’t given a single thought to your son’s future. That is for you, and for him, to decide. Nothing to do with me. Now, if you will excuse me? I believe this meeting is closed.’
And he walked away, following that trollop up the stairs while Lucy was left fuming in the hall, and in full view of that dreadful servant girl, Ida.
‘Don’t you have a bed to go to?’ Lucy snapped.
‘I were just locking up. Would there be anything more you’d be wanting, ma’am?’ It was past eleven and Ida was dropping on her feet; would be most thankful to get to her bed, if ever she got the chance.
‘Bring a cup of hot milk to my room. Quickly, girl! I haven’t all night.’ Then she stuck her chin in the air and marched upstairs.
Ida returned to the kitchen, heated some milk, spat very gently into it, stirred it well, and took it upstairs to Lucy with all haste, as she had been bidden.
From that day on, Eliot didn’t miss a day at the factory. He would rise at seven, enjoy an excellent breakfast, and sharp at eight would arrive in his office, having walked along the river path for the short distance between the two places. Kate would sit with him while he ate, watch him leave, but never once did he ask her to accompany him. On the contrary, he still obstinately refused to allow her to come into the factory at all.
‘You have done your duty,’ he would say, whenever she suggested it, or risked asking if he’d made up his mind yet about her proposed new line of ladies’ shoes. ‘And now I must do mine. I will keep you informed as to what I decide.’
‘I should hope so, Eliot, since I own a part of the business too,’ she gently reminded him on one occasion. ‘I believe I should have a say over what happens to my own section of the company, at least. Now that my workers can no longer make army boots, we must find other orders, other ways forward.’
It was the wrong thing to say.
‘They are no longer your workers, Kate, and Tyson’s Shoes is safe in my hands, as indeed it always has been. You own a mere ten per cent, and since you are my wife and our lives and individual businesses completely merged, you can trust me to make the right decisions, as I did in the past.’
Kate was equally obstinate. ‘I don’t think so, Eliot. It isn’t about trust, do you see, and things are no longer as they used to be in the past. We should be equal partners. The war, and the development of my own business, changed everything. I must insist upon being involved in any decision about the direction the company might take in the future.’
He was clearly irritated by her persistence. ‘There are a great many women making demands they have no right to make. I didn’t see any of them at the front when the going got tough.’
‘Really? I believe there were some nurses pretty near to it,�
�� Kate patiently remarked. ‘Many of us were not at the front, I’ll admit, although we kept you men well supplied with boots and armaments so that you could do your job properly, which means we have indeed earned the right for our voices to be heard. Now stop being so stubborn, Eliot, and agree that the world has changed.’
But he would not.
Kate was forced to resort to subterfuge, as women throughout time had found it necessary to do in order to achieve their goal. Two or three times a week she would wait until he was gone, then later in the morning she would sneak into the factory when she knew Eliot would be occupied. She was careful not to be seen by anyone, but it was not easy.
She would have a quiet meeting with Toby behind closed doors, perhaps going on afterwards to visit the odd customer. She would love to have examined progress in the new design department that she’d set up but daren’t take the risk. They’d be bound to mention to Eliot that she’d been in.
And Kate really had no wish to offend or embarrass him by an open confrontation despite being desperate to remain involved. She kept hoping that she would eventually win him round by quiet persuasion, but he remained adamant that her role was now that of his wife and helpmate, and nothing more, a situation she found hard to accept.
She even shocked herself by resenting the fact that Eliot had reclaimed use of his own study, for all she’d anticipated his doing so. There was her little hideaway upstairs, of course, the old nursery which she’d fitted out as a small office. But whenever she went up there to work, she was aware of Lucy’s laughter and constant derision.
‘Yes, go back to the nursery where you belong. Shall we have your meals sent up, as we used to? What would you like? Toast soldiers and jam? Rice pudding?’
It was hateful, and when she’d closed the door on Lucy’s taunts, Kate found that she had little to occupy her, even there. She felt she was losing touch, being shut out of her own business.
Toby did his best to keep her informed on the days she didn’t go in, sending her little notes, telling her of meetings held and decisions made without her presence or knowledge, offering to call round and explain things properly to her.
Kate always refused to allow him to come to the house. The last thing she needed was to be caught holding clandestine discussions in the summer house with the foreman, thereby providing ammunition for Lucy to inform on her to Eliot, or maliciously accuse her of being involved in some sort of affair.
She tried a different tactic. ‘Could I come and work in the design room, mebbe? I’m so bored at home, Eliot, with not enough to do. Could I not at least have the opportunity to express my ideas in some other way? I swear I’ll not interfere in the decision making process, or the actual running of the factory.’
‘I will consider it, my dear, but knowing you as I do, I suspect this is merely a new means of trying to get your own way.’ He kissed her as he said this, which quite took the sting out of his words, although of course he was absolutely correct.
‘How could you ever keep your delightful nose out of what I was doing? You would expect every one of your designs to be chosen, the work implemented forthwith, decisions made of which you approve. I cannot allow that, Kate.
‘Apart from the fact that you are my wife and I wish to take care of you, keep you safe at home, we do not see eye to eye on the future of the company. Tyson’s Shoes has an image to maintain, a quality and standard which is not in keeping with your feminine nonsense of pretty-pretty lightweight rubbish. So do stop fretting and relax. If you have too much time on your hands, take up gardening. I always found it very therapeutic.’
It was so utterly infuriating and frustrating. And then something happened which changed everything.
Chapter Twenty-One
They were sitting in the summer house on a lovely August evening, the sun setting over Castle Hill, lining grey clouds with pink and gold in a cobalt blue sky, the river a slick of silver in the fading light. Kate had finally made the decision to give him her news. She’d kept the information to herself for several weeks, needing time to grow accustomed to the idea.
Of course she was thrilled, but at the same time stunned, knowing it would mean she must finally put her ambitions on hold.
Toby had told her recently that new orders were thin on the ground, that if something didn’t happen soon he would be forced to lay men off. Eliot resisted all offers of help and it worried and frightened her. What would happen if there was a slump and the company went under? Kate had experienced poverty, had tasted its bitterness. She’d certainly no wish to return to Poor House Lane again.
She’d tried to advise from the wings, as it were, making suggestions and comments which generally were not welcomed. Eliot seemed to view her interest as a threat, yet Kate felt sure Tyson’s was losing its way, not replacing the orders for army boots with anything new.
Her darling husband had never been the most diligent or gifted of businessmen, somehow lacking vision and flair, although he’d always done his best and generally managed to rise to a challenge. But he couldn’t even seem to do that nowadays.
Despite a long and difficult summer in which he’d eased himself gently back into work, he still became easily confused, and his periods of depression were lifting only slightly.
Perhaps her present condition might make him realise that she wasn’t attempting to usurp his role after all, that she had another which gave her equal fulfilment.
Even so, Kate had no intention of giving up her interest in the business entirely. Her private meetings with Toby remained a regular part of her life, and could surely continue, for she was in no way incapacitated. She still lived in hope of finding some non-confrontational way of persuading her husband round to her way of thinking. Her patience and skill had been exemplary, if she said so herself.
The thought brought a smile to her face. Maybe pride in new fatherhood would do the trick.
‘You know that although I would love to be back at the factory, fully involved as I used to be, because I love to work ...’
Eliot interrupted her with a heavy sigh. ‘We’ve been through all of this Kate, ad nauseam. I believe the subject is closed.’
‘I know, I know, and you know that it doesn’t make the slightest difference to our life together, not one bit. I’m more than happy simply to be your wife and the mother of your children, and haven’t I accepted that these last months?’ This wasn’t strictly true, as they were both well aware, but Kate was doing her utmost to appear content with her new status.
Eliot said, ‘I’m glad to hear it. Other women have been happy to step down, now that their husbands are returned to them.’ The grooves etched beside the corners of his mouth, Kate noticed, seemed deeper than ever, with no hint of a smile as he looked at her, ready to fend off further argument. His leg still pained him badly, and he obstinately refused to use his stick.
‘It was just that I felt I had so much to offer, and so little to do here that Mrs Petty can’t do a thousand times better.’ Wanting to bring a smile to lift the corners of that dejected mouth, Kate continued, ‘But then, when did I ever have the chance to learn to be a housekeeper in Poor House Lane? We couldn’t keep ourselves clean there, let alone the stinking hole in which we lived. Didn’t Amelia despair of me ever learning civilised ways, even in the nursery?’
‘I’d rather you didn’t speak of Poor House Lane,’ Eliot said, rather stuffily.
‘Why not, ’tis the simple truth? That’s where I lived, and bore Callum.’
‘And now you are free of it, so we need never refer to it again, if you don’t mind.’
‘Oh, don’t be such an old stuffed shirt! Is it ashamed of me you are? And here’s me trying to tell you something exciting. I’m saying I dearly would love to be involved in finding and creating designs for new lines, but I can’t after all. If I started work, sure I’d have to leave in no time.’
He looked at her, startled, his face frozen with shock. ‘Leave? You’re leaving me?’
‘Jesus, Mary and
Joseph, I never meant that I’m leaving you, you daft eejit! Why would I do that? Not while I’ve breath in me body. That’s not what I meant at all. Only I’m going to have other things to occupy me over the next few months, something far more important to do with my time. The next year or so, I’d say.’
‘And what that might be?’
‘Can’t ye guess?’
He looked into her dancing eyes and felt his whole body grow still. ‘You’re not!’
Kate dissolved into a fit of giggles. ‘To be sure I am.’
‘Oh, my darling, I don’t believe it. You’re ...’ Eliot was so delighted, so beside himself with happiness, he dare hardly say the words.
Understanding perfectly, Kate said it for him. ‘Aye, you can say it, ‘cos it’s true. I’m pregnant. All them shenanigans we’ve been up to lately has had the expected result. It seems I’m not quite over the hill at thirty-two. Young enough anyways to make you a da again. Now will you give me a kiss, you old grumpy, and then smile a bit more, just to please me.’
Lucy was completely absorbed in watching Callum. She noted what time he rose in the mornings, how long he took over breakfast, even what he ate, generally bread and dripping, proving he was a common farm-hand still.
She would covertly watch as he pulled on his jacket, picked up his knapsack with his lunch box inside and headed off to the factory every morning sharp at seven, just as he was doing now.
Not that she rose this early every morning, but it was worth getting up on the odd occasion in order to observe what he did, what his habits were. One never knew when information, knowledge of any kind, might come in handy.
She’d certainly once made good use of the fact that his stupid sister found eggs abhorrent. Those kind of tactics would not serve for a grown boy, nearly a young man, naturally. Nor could she simply spirit him away to the workhouse this time. She would need to be much more subtle, far cleverer. But then she was clever. And this time she must make it permanent. Lucy could not risk being discovered again trying to harm him, or her pleas of innocence would sound very thin, very thin indeed.
The Child From Nowhere Page 19
