The Man in Possession

by Hilda Pressley

  Everything within Julia tightened. ‘Oh. Well, congratulations,’ she answered stiffly, then forced herself to ask: ‘Does that mean that Roger has agreed to go back to London to live?’

  Celia nodded and smiled. ‘This last upset about the design for the new yachts was the last straw. But I wouldn’t mention it if I were you. He hates being forestalled. He’ll tell you himself when he gets around to it. What he’s going to do is put a really good man in charge. A manager, in other words. Then we shall come down here for week-ends and so on. So you see, I’ve won, after all. Roger wanted to come here for our honeymoon. I ask you! He’s got some crazy notion of wanting to see the first of the new yachts finished. But a honeymoon here is out of the question. So we had to compromise, and the best that can be managed is a few days in Paris or somewhere, then a longer holiday, a sort of second honeymoon in October, maybe a winter cruise.’

  ‘You’re—planning to get married quite soon, then?’

  ‘The sooner the better, so Roger says, and I agree with him. I shan’t be working for the Melloid Oil Company any more, of course. But I expect I shall have to work out my notice. The old man—Roger’s father—will insist upon it. He’s a perfect stinker to work for. I’ve only stuck it for as long as I have for Roger’s sake.’ Julia did not comment. She excused herself and went into the small bathroom to have a shower and prepare for bed. For a little while a sort of mental defence mechanism made her think of all kinds of trivial things, things which had nothing to do with Roger, or at least, no bearing on what Celia had just told her. They were concerned with things like the weather, hoping it would be a fine day for tomorrow’s change-over. There was nothing worse than a rainy Saturday. Naturally, the women who cleaned out the boats ready for the new hirers did not like coming and going through the rain—and after a wet week, the boats would be in a bad enough state as it was. Everything was made more difficult, and the new people arriving viewed the weather with a great deal of gloom, anxiety and apprehension.

  And so until she finally lay down to sleep she thought of anything and everything except the subject closest to her heart. But even then her brain did not seem to function properly. She knew only one thing. Roger was going to marry Celia. He was in love with her.

  The weather the following day was neither wet nor fine. It was cool, blustery and showery with now and then a sunny interval. With Tony Sheldrake gone, they were a hand short and his work was shared between Roger and Bob Winters, leaving the other engineer to continue working on the new craft, after all. Julia dealt with the business of clean linen for the craft, interviewed new arrivals, answered the telephone, handed out lifejackets and television sets, and when the need arose gave a helping hand to a novice. She avoided contact with Roger as much as possible, and he appeared to be avoiding her, too. They barely exchanged a word with each other all day. But when eventually the last of the boats had been sent on their way, he came into Julia’s office.

  ‘I understand Celia told you I’m driving her home tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered briefly.

  ‘I have one or two things to attend to, so I shall stay over until Monday. I’ve asked Celia to be ready at nine-thirty in the morning. Would you mind seeing that she’s up in time and has some breakfast?’

  ‘Of course.’ Had Celia been complaining about having no breakfast?’ At least,’ she amended, ‘I’ll try to get her to eat something. She doesn’t eat much breakfast.’

  ‘I know, but going on a journey is different, and I don’t want to have to make too many stops. One for lunch will be sufficient if we can find somewhere.’

  Julia suggested Baldock, and he thanked her, then went out. Celia spent the evening with him in the house, and Julia a lonely one in the houseboat. For the first time, while she was eating her solitary meal, she tried to think rationally, decide what to do. If Roger married Celia before the season was over and they spent the rest of the summer here as man and wife, even if only at week-ends, then it would be impossible for herself to stay here. If he did not tell her quite soon what his plans were, she would simply have to ask him. She must talk to him also about the switch of the drawing for the new yachts. She felt certain that she was under suspicion, otherwise why had he been avoiding her all day? He had not said whether he was pursuing his enquiries or calling in the police or anything. It hurt her terribly to think that he was giving even a second thought to the idea that she would do anything to harm him, or considered her remotely capable of such a mean action. As soon as he came back from London she must have a talk with him, she decided. If he were going to take on a manager eventually, there was no reason why he should not begin to advertise almost immediately, and as soon as he found someone she could leave.

  For a little while she found her loneliness and unhappiness almost unbearable. She went outside, feeling like making her escape then and there. Why hadn’t she done something about getting another car? She must. She would need one soon anyway if she were going home. She hated travelling long distances by train.

  Frank Willis was still in die boat-building shed. Feeling that if she didn’t talk to someone she would go crazy, she opened the door.

  He looked up as she entered. ‘How’s it going now, Frank?’ she asked.

  ‘Fine now, miss, but I’m not taking any chances. In future this drawing goes with me when I leave the boatyard.’

  ‘I—suppose that’s a good idea, but you don’t think it’s rather like bolting the door after the horse has gone?’ He glanced at her sharply. ‘What do you mean by that, Miss Barclay?’

  ‘Why, nothing,’ she answered quickly. ‘It’s just a saying. All the same, I can’t think that any of the men we’ve got now—’ She broke off in some confusion. She was as good as accusing Tony Sheldrake to Frank. It was all wrong.

  But he took her up. ‘You’re saying in so many words that Sheldrake knew something about it, aren’t you?’

  ‘Well, I—’

  ‘If you didn’t trust him I wonder you took him on,’ he said sharply.

  Julia’s eyes widened. Frank Willis had never spoken to her that way before. Never. Deciding not to continue the discussion, she went out. Already, it seemed, the business of the drawing was causing rifts between people. She had the horrible feeling just now that Frank was in effect blaming her. Her decision to leave as soon as possible was strengthened.

  Celia did not stay late with Roger. Julia supposed he had suggested an early night because of making a good start in the morning.

  ‘Would you like me to help you pack tonight?’ Julia asked her. ‘It would save an awful lot of time in the morning.’

  But Celia refused. ‘I can’t think why Roger wants to make such an early start. I don’t like having my clothes packed all night. I shall do it in the morning. You can help me then if you like—and he will just have to wait until I’m ready. Roger can be very domineering, and when he’s domineering he’s a bore.’

  Julia sighed worriedly. She couldn’t see how they were possibly going to be happy if Celia kept up this kind of behaviour.

  ‘I—fail to see how you could ever think of Roger as a bore,’ she told the other girl.

  Celia laughed shortly. ‘You need to take off those rose-coloured spectacles of yours. It’s far better to marry a man knowing his faults than to imagine he’s perfect and discover all of them afterwards.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  It sounded logical, but Julia was not convinced. She did not want to continue the conversation however, so she said no more. Later, she thought to herself that though she might often be angry with Roger, she would never, never find him boring.

  She set her alarm so that she would make sure of not oversleeping, and after some tossing about, fell into an uneasy sleep.

  Celia did not keep Roger waiting very long the following morning after all, and with her departure Julia heaved a sigh of relief. It was very nice indeed to have the place to herself. She decided that a degree of loneliness was preferable to the wrong kind of comp
any. In any case she had still had times of loneliness even when Celia had been here. Loneliness was not the same thing as being alone.

  Frank Willis and his team had decided to work that Sunday until about four o’clock. One of them promised to keep an eye on the boatyard in general, so when she had put her own clothes back in the small wardrobe, and the houseboat was looking more normal, Julia took the van out with the idea of calling at a garage she knew which always had one or two second-hand cars for sale. There were several in her price range standing in the garage yard, and after she had had a trial run in them, she chose one in pale grey with wine-coloured upholstery.

  ‘How soon can I have it?’ she asked Jack Parker, the young proprietor.

  ‘Oh, it shouldn’t take more than a few days to get the log book changed over. It’s taxed to the end of the month. In fact, if you’re wanting to use it, I can run it along for you in the morning.

  She was able to pay cash, so there was no problem about hire purchase, and though she did not know a great deal about engines, she could detect no faults or hear any peculiar noises when she had been on the trial run. Jack assured her that it had been well overhauled and had passed the Ministry of Transport test.

  ‘Anyway,’ was his final word, ‘use it for a little while and if you do find anything wrong, bring it along and I’ll put it right. Okay?’

  She agreed, knowing she could trust him to keep his word and he said he would deliver it the following morning. He couldn’t leave the garage that day, as he was on his own.

  She returned to the boatyard, and for the rest of the day time dragged. A couple of day boats had been taken out on hire, but that was all, and when those had been brought in again, there was nothing for her to do except potter around the houseboat until bedtime.

  Roger returned about four o’clock on Monday afternoon. ‘Hello, what’s this?’ he enquired, seeing her new car standing outside the houseboat.

  ‘It’s mine. I bought it yesterday,’ she told him.

  ‘Have you got the log book?’ he asked, giving a keen look at the bodywork and tyres.

  ‘Not yet. But it’s taxed up to the end of the month.’

  ‘You’ve given it a trial run, I suppose?’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘Mm. Looks all right. As a matter of interest, how much did you pay for it?’ She told him and he said she had a good bargain. ‘Provided you don’t have any troubles when you’ve run it for a bit.’

  The short week-end seemed to have done him good, she thought. He was certainly more cheerful. Perhaps he had decided to forget about the business of the yacht design after all. That had certainly cast a blight over everything and everyone. Or was his changed mood due to the fact that Celia had promised to marry him?

  Some days passed and she waited for him to tell her of his plans, that he was going back to work for his father, but he didn’t. She longed to ask him. Not that she wanted confirmation of his engagement, but the suspense was becoming more than she could bear. She avoided contact with him, and at every opportunity took out the new car so that she could familiarize herself with the gear changes, which were different both from her last car and the firm’s van, as well as to make sure that it was in good running order. Now and again Roger would eye her keenly, then one evening he said, as she was putting the cover on her typewriter:

  ‘How’s the car running?’

  ‘Fine,’ she answered.

  ‘Are you going out tonight?’

  ‘I—don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.’

  There was a slight pause, then he said: ‘I was wondering if you’d care to come over to the house, maybe play the piano, and we could have a coffee or something.’

  She shook her head swiftly. It would be more than she could take, to be alone with him for any length of time in such an intimate atmosphere. Whether he told her soon of his plans or not, she must get away.

  ‘I won’t, if you don’t mind,’ she answered. ‘But I’d like to have a word with you in the morning, if I may.’

  His jaw tightened. He was annoyed at her refusal, of course. ‘I shall be here,’ he said coolly, and walked out.

  She felt miserable for the rest of the evening, and wished once or twice that she had not been so much of a coward. Possibly he was missing Celia. She should have been willing to spend the evening with him for his sake. The house, it seemed, was all finished now. He would undoubtedly have shown her the upstairs rooms, and she decided once again that it would have been more than she could bear.

  She slept little that night, not looking forward to her interview with him. But towards the middle of the morning she tapped at his office door and went in.

  ‘Is it convenient to speak to you now?’ she asked.

  He glanced up from a letter he was reading and from across the desk she recognized Celia’s writing.

  He indicated a chair. ‘Now, what’s it all about?’ he asked.

  Now that it came to the point she hardly knew how to begin. ‘Well, I—it’s—it’s like this,’ she began, then hesitated.

  He picked up a pencil and began to doodle. She watched, fascinated as a head began to take shape. Then he glanced up swiftly and she shifted her gaze uncomfortably.

  He screwed up the sheet of paper just as he had on that other morning. It was Celia’s head he was drawing, of course.

  ‘What’s the trouble?’ he prompted.

  ‘Well, I—’ she began again. Then in a rush: ‘I’m sorry, Roger, but I’ve come to tell you that I’m leaving.’

  His eyes widened and he stared at her for a moment or two, then his expression became cold. He began drawing again.

  ‘What made you change your mind?’ he asked without looking up.

  ‘Change my mind?’ she queried.

  He glanced up then. ‘Yes. When I first bought Wingcraft you had been all set to buy the business yourself—couldn’t bear to tear yourself away. Maybe it would make a difference to you if I told you I was thinking of getting out.’

  Her heart leapt uncomfortably. ‘Are you?’ she asked jerkily.

  ‘You’d be happier if I wasn’t here, wouldn’t you?’

  She felt herself colouring. Had he guessed how she felt about him?

  He bent to his doodle again and she tried to keep her eyes from following the lines of his pencil.

  ‘Yes,’ he continued. ‘You want Wingcraft but without having me around. As a matter of fact, I’ve been thinking of offering you a partnership.’

  ‘A—a partnership?’ she echoed.

  ‘That’s right.’ He stopped doodling and sat back in his chair and gave her a long look. ‘A soil of working partner. It’s fair enough. I go back to the family business—or I might do something else—you stay here and manage the place, and we share the profits. How would that suit you?’

  She stared at him. ‘It—sounds extremely generous, but I’m not sure that it would work. You’d—still come back from time to time, wouldn’t you?’

  She avoided mentioning Celia. After all, he had not told her yet of his intention to marry her.

  He did not answer for a moment, then he said quietly:

  ‘Does the idea horrify you so much? I had no idea you were all that anxious to be rid of me.’

  ‘But I’m not—’ she began hotly, then checked herself. ‘It’s just that—’ She sighed and broke off again. She could hardly say: It isn’t you I don t want to see, it’s your wife. Or: I couldn’t bear it because I love you so much. ‘I think I will leave, if you don’t mind. It would be the best. My father can always use help in the orchards.’

  Roger regarded her for a minute. ‘Is that what you really want to do? I thought you were still in love with the boatyard and Norfolk. Don’t you want to see the new auxiliaries finished?’

  ‘It would have been nice, yes, but—’

  He flung down his pencil. ‘Look, why not sleep on it for a little while longer? I think I’ve just about had enough of the boat-hire business, anyway. We can work out something. I’ll se
e you again in the morning.’

  He picked up the telephone and began to dial a number, so Julia had no alternative but to go back to her own office.

  A partnership. The only partnership she would ever want with Roger was that of his—She could not say the word wife even in her thoughts. It was too painful. And what difference would it make to the situation if she were a business partner? He would still pay visits to the place and bring Celia to stay. He had said nothing about selling the house. Why should he? But the very fact of his talking about going back to the oil business or something else confirmed what Celia had said if confirmation were needed. There was no reason at all why she should have told a pack of lies.

  During the afternoon Max rang her. She had neither heard from him or seen him since the night he had had a meal with her in the boathouse, the night she and Roger had had the talk in the darkened boatyard. But she did not want to think about that.

  ‘Seems ages since I’ve seen you,’ Max was saying. ‘What about tonight?’

  She did not really want to see him, on the other hand the thought of another evening alone in the houseboat almost caused her to groan aloud.

  ‘All right, Max, thanks. But don’t come to the boatyard. I’ll meet you in town.’

  He agreed without question, and they arranged to meet at a certain restaurant. When next she saw Roger, she mentioned she would be going out that evening.

  ‘Not alone?’ he queried.

  She shook her head. ‘With Max. But don’t worry, he won’t be coming to the boatyard.’

  He frowned for a moment, then obviously remembered what he had said the last time Max was here.

  ‘You’d better forget that,’ he said shortly, and strode over to the house. Julia looked at his back and knew that she could not stand this for much longer. She could not get away that evening soon enough, and consequently was at the meeting place five minutes earlier than Max.

  ‘I’m not late, am I?’ he asked.