The Man in Possession

by Hilda Pressley

‘Quite sure.’

  ‘Then we’ll make it an early one. Twelve or thereabouts.’ He gave her a sidelong glance. ‘Do you like travelling?’

  ‘Motoring, you mean?’

  ‘Yes—and travel in general, seeing places.’

  She nodded, glad that he had begun to talk again, and on what should be a fairly safe subject.

  ‘I like motoring—and I must get myself another car. With regard to travel, I’d like to have seen more places than I have.’

  ‘What prevented you—time, money or a suitable travel companion?’ he quizzed.

  She couldn’t help smiling. ‘A bit of all three, I suppose. On an annual holiday, one can’t see much of the world at a time and the days are gone when parents could afford to send their sons and daughters abroad for six months or a year for their education

  ‘Only the very wealthy were ever able to do it,’ he said. ‘And I suppose it’s still done today, though money has become more evenly distributed.’

  Julia laughed. ‘It’s the sons and daughters who have the money nowadays—especially if they’re in the pop business.’ Then she said seriously: ‘Actually, my parents would have done more for me if I’d let them, but I’m of the opinion that by the time you’re eighteen you should be standing on your own feet.’

  ‘Meaning that what you can’t afford yourself you don’t have? Very commendable. But suppose you married a rich man?’

  Her lips twitched into a smile. ‘That would be different, of course, especially if he happened to like travel—foreign or otherwise.’

  She thought suddenly how wonderful it would be to travel the world with the right kind of man, one who knew all the ropes, had that air of authority which commanded the best service. A seasoned traveller and a stimulating companion.

  ‘I suppose you’ve done quite a good deal of travelling?’ she said, not realizing the train of her thought.

  ‘Yes, I have, but mostly on business, of course. It’s not the same as globe-trotting for pleasure, and travelling alone isn’t much fun.’

  Julia agreed, then sighed. ‘Life is never quite perfect, is it? It always falls short of the ideal.’

  ‘You sound disillusioned. Sometimes people don’t recognize the ideal when they have it, or haven’t the kind of make-up to appreciate it.’

  She denied being disillusioned. ‘I was merely thinking that, being engaged in the holiday business as we are, it’s rather limiting for foreign travel. I’ve only just realized that that’s one of the things I’ve long wanted to do. What I mean is, before you misunderstand me, one can’t have the best of both worlds. Though there are countries one can visit in the winter, of course.’

  But he shook his head. ‘It is limiting, as you say. And a few weeks’ snatched holiday is no way to see the world. If you want to really travel, there’s only one thing for it, aside from coming into a fortune. And that’s to marry a man who can afford to take you exactly where you want to go and when.’

  ‘Then I shall have to wait a very long time, likely for ever,’ she asserted. ‘Rich men just don’t come my way. Even if one did there’d be no guarantee that he’d want to marry me—or be the travelling kind. There’d also be no guarantee that I’d fall in love with him.’

  ‘So you’d have to be in love with a man before you’d marry him?’ he queried.

  She gave him a surprised look. ‘Now you’re sounding disillusioned! I’d have to be pretty desperate to many a man I didn’t love, although—’

  She broke off, not wanting to continue the train of her thoughts aloud. She was still young enough to want to marry for love, indeed, she could not imagine ever marrying for any other reason. At the same time she could not see herself loving any man in the same way she had loved David.

  ‘You were about to say?’ Roger prompted.

  She gave an inaudible sigh. This man always demanded an answer!

  ‘This conversation is getting out of hand. All I know is that when you fall in love you don’t care whether the person is rich or poor or likes travel or listening to Beethoven. You just love—and want, naturally, to spend every minute of the rest of your lives together.’ Her voice trembled. She had not intended saying so much. That was the way David and herself had felt about each other. It had been wonderful, frantic, a feeling beyond the power of words.

  There was a short silence. Obviously wanting to pursue the matter, Roger asked in a quiet voice: ‘How many times have you been in love, Julia?’

  It was on the tip of her tongue to object to such a personal question, but then she began to think. She had had boy-friends before David, of course, and had woven romantic dreams about some of them, but never had she felt the same as she had about him.

  ‘Only once,’ she answered Roger briefly.

  ‘And it was love at first sight, I suppose?’

  There was no mistaking his sarcasm. ‘If you must know, it was,’ she answered tartly, hoping he would take the hint and stop asking personal questions.

  He said, after a pause, ‘I wouldn’t trust that kind of love, myself. I think it’s possible to be attracted at a first meeting, but that’s usually all it is. There’s more than one way of falling in love, of course, but I should think it’s more a gradual process than a sudden one. I’ve known couples positively to dislike one another at first, though at no time were they indifferent to each other. They were continually reacting emotionally, either in the way of anger, hurt feelings, shows of pride, but always there was an intense awareness of each other.’

  She began to feel amused. ‘You sound quite the expert! With all that knowledge of the subject you should never be caught unaware yourself.’

  ‘No, I don’t think I would be.’

  She wanted to make some sarcastic reply, perhaps to the effect that it was just such clever people who were most likely to fall in love without realizing it. But she thought better of it and in a few minutes they came to a likely-looking hotel to have lunch.

  Over lunch the conversation turned to travel again, and Roger told her of some of the places he had visited in the course of the family business and would like to see a second time. Julia touched on the few places she had seen and the many more she would like to see.

  ‘Well, if you’re going to continue as my second in command, I shall have to see to it that you get adequate holidays at the right time of the year,’ he told her.

  Julia smiled but said nothing. She couldn’t see how that was going to be possible. The popularity of the Broads as a relaxing yet interesting and active holiday grew year by year. Up to a few years ago—when it was thought the Broads had even then reached saturation point—the season was mid-May to mid-September. Now, it was April to October with steady encroachment into March and November. There were foreign countries one could visit in the winter, of course, but those where one could be assured of warm weather were mostly in the Southern Hemisphere and cost a lot of money merely to get there. The Canary Islands on a package tour was about the best she would ever be able to manage.

  A sunny week-end and a sudden rise in the general temperature flung away the cloak of winter, galvanized the boat-hire side of the business into action, and Roger Leighton into turning his mind from his house, which was still being decorated, to the business.

  ‘I’m thinking of taking on more men,’ he said to Julia one morning.

  ‘Really? With what object?’ She had thought the wages high enough already, and said so.

  But he shook his head. ‘If you want to expand you must have more workmen,’ he said. ‘And I want to increase the fleet to at least twice the number.’

  Julia eyed him with consternation. ‘To twice the number! But we haven’t the facilities.’

  ‘We will have,’ he said firmly. ‘Meanwhile, now that the yachts and cruisers are all launched there’ll be more room in the sheds. And when the need arises I shall have another wet boathouse built, or have the existing one enlarged.’

  Julia groaned inwardly. She had liked the business just the size it was.r />
  ‘What—sort of craft are you going to build? More big cruisers, I suppose?’

  He leaned back in the chair behind his own desk and looked up at her. ‘Then you’d suppose wrong—but why don’t you sit down? I’m sure you can spare a few minutes.’

  She sat down and eyed him uncertainly. She might have known he would have ideas for expanding. But why? Why must these business people always think they must expand? She felt it was more important to give an efficient service. She thought of the maintenance which would be required for double the amount of craft, the hectic change-over on Saturday morning when the boats all changed hands and had to be cleaned, and made ready for newcomers, the increase in equipment which would all need taking care of.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Roger Leighton said, as if reading her thoughts. ‘It will happen so gradually, you’ll scarcely notice it. In any case I shan’t expect you to do any more work or take any more responsibility than you have at present. To begin with I’m taking on three more men—a yard foreman, a marine maintenance engineer and a boy to take Andy’s place. Andy is going to be upgraded. I’m putting him under Frank Willis. He wants to learn boatbuilding.’

  ‘That sounds like a good idea—but why do we want a yard foreman?’ It sounded ominously like the thin end of a wedge. She had virtually shared this role with Frank.

  ‘Because I don’t want Frank to be continually leaving his job to help in general boatyard duties. I’ve told you—I’m stepping up production. In time, of course, you’ll need a girl to help you in the office. Now, any questions?’ he asked with a hint of mockery.

  ‘You haven’t told me yet what kind of craft you’re having built,’ she pointed out.

  ‘Oh, didn’t I? Auxiliary yachts, mostly—with cruiser comfort and all mod. cons, such as sprung cabin tops, a winch for raising and lowering the mast and roller reefing.’

  Julia’s eyes gleamed. ‘Have you had them designed yet?’

  ‘Not yet. I thought you might have some ideas. I thought two, three and four berths. And I’ve got an idea for some new-type half-deckers for day hire.’

  ‘Tell me more,’ she invited.

  ‘Well, in my opinion, if more thought is not given to the vagaries of our weather when designing sailing craft, sailing might well disappear from the Broads altogether, and that would be a pity. So I’m going to have a prototype half-deckers made with a small cabin—not big enough to sleep in, but just big enough for two people to take shelter when there are sudden sharp showers or thunderstorms.’

  Julia smiled broadly. He was a man after her own heart. He was not just a money-making executive, after all.

  ‘I take it you approve?’ he prompted.

  ‘I certainly do. There are a few half-deckers on the Broads with what’s called “stowage shelter” for’ard, but they’re precious little use when the rain drives in. But why not, as a quick job, get Frank to convert the two we have? There’s plenty of deck space for’ard—more really than is necessary. A top and sides could be built on and still leave a large well for manoeuvring. He could do one at a time.’

  ‘Right,’ he said promptly. ‘I’ll speak to him about it.’

  The telephone on his desk rang and he lifted the receiver. She saw him frown, then he looked at her. ‘It’s for you—Max Windham.’

  ‘I’ll take it in my office.’

  She rose and went through. It was some weeks since she had either seen or heard anything from Max. Not since the night he had asked her out to dinner and she had gone with Roger. She lifted the receiver and heard Roger replace his.

  ‘Hello, Max.’

  ‘Ah, Julia. Thought I’d better make contact again—find out how things are going. Long time, no see.’

  She winced at the cliché. ‘Well, I daresay we’ve both been busy. How are you?’

  ‘Been missing you. But I—er—got the idea you were giving me the brush-off, seeing you with Leighton in town after you’d said you were having an early night.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that,’ she told him. ‘He asked me, and I didn’t feel I could refuse.’

  ‘He gave a noncommittal grunt. ‘I take it we’re still friends, then?’

  ‘Of course.’ She could scarcely say otherwise.

  ‘Well, look—it’s the boat sale tomorrow and I’ll be tied up. The same Friday and over the week-end.’

  ‘The girl I saw you with at the hotel that night?’ she quizzed.

  ‘No. Actually, I’m off to London on some business of my father’s. But what about next Monday? We could catch up on what news there is over a bite to eat.’

  After a momentary hesitation, she agreed. After all, she had nothing against Max, and an evening out now and then was something she enjoyed. Max said he would call for her, then they said goodbye and rang off. A few minutes later Roger came through.

  ‘I thought you’d finished with that young man,’ he remarked.

  She looked at him in astonishment, then found annoyance and amusement fighting for supremacy. She dealt swiftly with all three and answered coolly:

  ‘Now, why should you think that?’

  ‘I’ve told you. He isn’t your type. You’re just wasting your time,’ he flung out as he walked to the door.

  Julia gave up. ‘By the way, it’s the spring boat sale at Wroxham tomorrow. You might find it interesting. They’re held twice a year, spring and autumn.’

  He turned. ‘Now you mention it, I did see it advertised. Have we anything in ourselves?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not this year. Occasionally we put a boat in. At least, according to the records.’

  ‘Would you like to go?’ he asked.

  ‘Er—yes, I wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘Right, then we’ll both go and have some lunch down there together—unless you’ve already made a date with your friend Windham.’

  These references to Max were not really funny. What had he against him? she wondered. She looked at Roger squarely.

  ‘I try to keep my private life separate from my working life,’ she told him. ‘I would certainly not have arranged to be out on a working day without consulting you first.’

  His face darkened. ‘I don’t want you to account for every move,’ he answered. ‘And I didn’t mean to interfere with your private life.’

  He went out and Julia stared after him. He was a puzzle to her at times, and she was never quite sure how to take him. She supposed if she were one of his secretaries, the kind he had been used to in the oil business, she would know the exact relationship required and attitude to adopt. She would simply have to try a little harder.

  The weather the following day was typical for April and fairly typical for the Wroxham boat sale—showery, and warm when the sun came out. There had also been plenty of rain during the night, and knowing from experience what conditions would be like underfoot Julia donned Wellington boots, tucking in the legs of her navy slacks. Under her suede jacket she wore a white polo necked sweater and tied a waterproof scarf over her hair.

  ‘I see you’re prepared for the worst,’ Roger remarked as she took her seat beside him in his car.

  It was the nearest to a compliment she was likely to get, Julia thought, though she knew the white sweater looked well and suited her. She made some bantering reply and felt suddenly stimulated as she often did in his company.

  The stretch of ground which was littered with lots under the ‘miscellaneous’ heading was a series of yellow pools, but as usual the variety of bits and pieces awaiting the auctioneer’s hammer was fascinating. Items ranged from the weirdest of home-made fend-offs to boat trailers, and in between, everything one could think of which might possibly be of some use in, on, or around a boat. Weights and round anchors of all sizes, disconsolate lengths of mooring rope, new and second-hand, port and starboard lights, old cooking stoves, several pairs of oars, one or two bunk mattresses, and absurdly, things like a drunken, bursting leather armchair, and an old desk, and some objects which were simply unidentifiable, being parts of some wh
ole, for which someone might find a remote use.

  Roger stared at some of the things. ‘Does anyone really buy this junk?’ he asked in astonishment.

  ‘Somebody will find a use for it, I daresay,’ she answered. ‘And it isn’t all junk.’

  They stopped now and then to listen to the auctioneer as he rattled off his patter from the top of a step-ladder, and here and there saw a man bear off some item in triumph which he had managed to wrestle from an opponent in the bidding.

  They squelched through the mud, skirting still larger yellow pools, to look at the small craft waiting to be auctioned. There were racing dinghies, rowing boats, motor launches, canoes, and the occasional catamaran, their owners keeping guard while prospective buyers peered and prodded and assessed the possible price.

  Last of all to be auctioned were usually the bigger craft jostling each other for mooring space at an allocated quayside.

  ‘I’d like to know how much some of these fetch,’ murmured Roger.

  Julia glanced at her catalogue. ‘To be auctioned at half past two. We’ve got time to have lunch first.’

  They had lunch at a restaurant overlooking the river, and Julia was reminded of the last time she and David had been here.

  ‘Penny for them,’ offered Roger.

  She shook her head, smiling. ‘They’re worth a little more than that,’ she answered. But the memory of David no longer hurt her or made her feel lonely.

  All around them were people talking about boats. Wroxham had a special atmosphere on days such as this. The sun came out, and they sat outside after lunch to drink their coffee, then joined the crowds of people as the various craft were auctioned—always something of a gamble. There were several half-deckers, some exBroads hire-craft—auxiliary yachts as well as cruisers, a number of houseboats, speedboats, and various kinds of launches. There was also a luxury six-berth cruiser beautifully ‘furnished.’