Ring in the New

by Phyllis Bentley

  ‘The press!’ gasped Chuff. Nat seemed beyond speech.

  ‘And various newspaper representatives will, of course, telephone you to obtain your views.’

  ‘Oh, no!’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry. Put them on to us. Of course you will issue a statement too. As a matter of courtesy, you should write to the Chairman of Hamsun’s Board, Major Armitage, presenting your Board’s views. No doubt you have already prepared such a letter?’

  Nat looked at Chuff, who drew out from his pocket a letter he had, in fact, prepared and had had it revised by Ruth on the score of grammar. He handed it over to Alfriston, who read it gravely. Chuff held his head down; he felt a burning shame that this amateur, ill informed document, speaking sentimentally of his grandfather’s creation of Henry Morcar, Limited and his own feeling that it would be cowardice on his part to let it go, should pass beneath this cool experienced scrutiny. At length the merchant banker folded the letter and laid it down.

  ‘I’m not sure that this is the wisest line to take, Mr Morcar,’ he said pleasantly. ‘For myself I should prefer a statement that your Board is well satisfied with its present independent position and not eager for a merger, and that the price per share offered is of course-far too low, quite out of the question. Should you feel that to be a good line to take, Howard?’

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ said Howard in a considering tone.

  ‘Would you care for me to draft the letter? I should be glad to do so if you wish. One has to be so careful in one’s language, or one is apt to be tripped over small legal points.’

  ‘I should be grateful if you would guide me by a draft,’ said poor Chuff.

  ‘Then if Hamsun’s pursue the matter, we can say that your Board has determined to beat off this proposed takeover, but realising that you have a duty to your shareholders, are endeavouring to furnish information which would justify Messrs Hamsun in offering a much higher price.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Of course you are prepared to furnish a forecast of favourable profits next year? More favourable than this year’s, I mean?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Chuff, trying not to blench.

  ‘I am glad of that,’ said Howard very soberly, ‘for I had gained rather an impression that you were coasting along at present on your grandfather’s achievements.’

  ‘We have a new designer,’ said Chuff boldly, ‘for whom I personally forecast a great future.’

  ‘Good, good.’

  ‘You see, Mr Morcar, a more favourable prospect for next year’s working will be absolutely essential, because we have the impression—in fact we know—that one of the large family blocks of shares oil which you are relying, has been broken up and come on to the market’

  ‘This is almost certainly what gave Hamsun the idea of a takeover,’ said Alfriston, taking up the tale. ‘A block of shares in this desirable company came on the market, they picked them up, and so are already in an advantageous position.’

  ‘So, as we said, you will need to convince your other shareholders that Henry Morcar Limited is too good an investment to sell out of.’

  ‘Of course, Hamsun will probably offer some shares in the new company, in exchange,’ said Howard quickly.

  ‘Is there any other point you wish to take up?’ said Alfriston.

  ‘No—I think we must now digest all you have told us,’ said Chuff stiffly.

  ‘We must have a Board meeting of Henry Morcar Limited,’ said Nat.

  ‘Yes. The announcement of the proposed merger will be in the press the day after tomorrow, we are told.’

  Chuff held his face still, and even forced a smile as the four men shook hands in farewell.

  ‘For God’s sake let’s get ourselves a drink,’ said Nat when they were out of the building, seizing Chuff’s arm. ‘I surely need one.’

  ‘I have some telephoning to do first,’ said Chuff, disengaging his arm.

  ‘Who has sold their shares?’ said Nat.

  ‘Susie, of course. Jonathan put her up to it.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘He didn’t want Grandfather’s money. He has these anti-capitalist notions.’

  ‘I agree, but he wouldn’t do it without telling you.’

  ‘That remains to be seen.’

  In a telephone booth in the marble hall Chuff rang up first the unfortunate Company Secretary.

  ‘Have there been any considerable movements in our share holdings lately, Mr Jenkins?’ said Chuff. He tried to keep his tone dry, free from emotion.

  ‘Yes. I have them all listed in preparation for the next Board,’ babbled Mr Jenkins cheerfully. ‘Though I expect you have heard of them already from Mrs Oldroyd.’

  ‘Oh, they are from my sister’s holding?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And why didn’t you tell me this before?’ said Chuff in a quiet but blistering tone.

  ‘Old Mr Morcar used to ask me regularly for a report,’ began the Secretary, offended.

  Chuff slammed down the receiver.

  ‘Is Jonathan there, Susie?’ he enquired, when at last he made the connection with Old Cottage.

  ‘No. He’s at the University all day today. He’ll be home about six,’ said Susie.

  ‘Susie, have you been selling some of your Henry Morcar shares?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Susie brightly.

  ‘Why?’ said Chuff.

  ‘Jonathan said he didn’t want any of Grandfather’s money,’ said Susie in her childish tones. ‘So I sold the shares and bought some others. It’s to be a sort of birthday present for him.’

  Chuff’s composure broke, and he raged. ‘You damned little fool, you’ve ruined me!’ he shouted.

  ‘What? What? Chuff? I didn’t hear you properly,’ cried Susie.

  ‘How did you sell them? Did Jonathan do it for you?’

  ‘No; it’s a secret, you see; a surprise for his birthday. He doesn’t know anything about it. I just picked a stockbroker from a brass plate in town,’ said Susie cheerfully.

  ‘Susie, you have ruined me. And Syke Mill, and all of us. You couldn’t have done anything which would have hurt Grandfather more.’

  ‘Chuff, Chuff!’ wailed Susie. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Come away, Chuff!’ urged Nat at this point, trying to drag the young man out of the booth. ‘Show some sense, man! Remember her condition!’

  Chuff, stupefied with fury, slammed down the receiver and suffered himself away.

  The morning’s rain had now turned into a damp, heavy fog; the train to the north was exceedingly late, crawling and stopping feebly through the dark counties. The Ire Valley was even foggier than the country south of Annotsfield, and by the time Chuff reached Stanney Royd he was sick with frustration, and as thankful to see Ruth as if he had been travelling for months through a hostile country where nobody spoke his language. Ruth had a meal ready for him, with hot coffee; he tried to eat, but could hardly get anything down; presently he gave up the attempt, and in hoarse tones, with a man’s hard tears rolling down his cheeks, began to sob out to his wife the events of the day.

  ‘Oh, poor Susie, poor Susie,’ grieved Ruth.

  ‘And poor us,’ said Chuff.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think it’s as bad as that, Chuff,’ said Ruth. ‘If you do have to sell out, you’ll have enough to live on, you know.’

  ‘I looked such a fool, Ruth. I don’t know anything about these finance things.’

  ‘How could you? But you’ll soon learn. Nat didn’t know any more, with much less excuse.’

  ‘He was about as much use as a dying duck in a thunder-storm. Still, I was thankful he had told me about our obligation to inform our shareholders of the offer; I did at least know that’

  ‘Come to bed, love. You’ll feel better after a good night’s rest’

  ‘If it had been Jonathan, I’d have broken his damned neck.’

  ‘But it wasn’t’

  ‘I wished I’d had Jonathan with me, really. He knows how to talk their language. But Susie! I
shall never feel the same to her again, never.’

  ‘I hope you weren’t cross with her down the ‘phone,’ said Ruth uneasily.

  ‘I don’t remember,’ said Chuff with truth.

  At two o’clock next morning the bedside telephone rang. Ruth answered it.

  ‘It’s Jonathan, Chuff.’

  Jonathan’s voice was wild and uneven.

  ‘Chuff? You’d better come, Chuff.’

  ‘Come?’ said Chuff, half asleep.

  ‘Susie fell into premature labour after your telephone call. Everything went wrong. She was in the house alone. There was fog and I was late home and we didn’t get to the hospital quickly. She has given birth, but she’s very ill. They think she’s sinking. She may not last till morning. You’d better come.’

  ‘I’ll be with you in an hour,’ said Chuff, springing out of bed.

  ‘Shall I come with you, Chuff?’ said Ruth.

  ‘No. No. For God’s sake, no. Oh lord. Susie.’

  He dressed.

  ‘The fog’s gone. It’s clear,’ said Ruth, drawing back a curtain.

  ‘Good. I can make good time.’

  ‘Do drive carefully, Chuff.’

  ‘I always do.’

  This was true. He was a sensible if selfish driver. Though he was unfamiliar with the route, on the quiet night roads, the only sound the water dripping from the trees, he made good speed and reached his destination well under the time he had allowed himself. His concentration on reaching the hospital rapidly and his pleasure in doing so had driven the reason for his haste out of his mind, and this blankness lasted till he had climbed the steps to the great building. But here at the top he was met by Jonathan, pale, ravaged, his eyes burning, and Chuff’s assurances fell from him. His tongue suddenly felt numb and swollen, unable to utter.

  ‘How is she?’ he managed to get out.

  ‘They say she’s just holding her own. Why did you shout at her down the telephone, Chuff?’ said Jonathan. His eyes flashed, his tone was dangerous.

  ‘Because by selling her Morcar shares she’s destroyed Henry Morcar Limited, that’s why,’ said Chuff, never backward in defence of himself.

  ‘A life is worth more than a few shares.’

  ‘Henry Morcar Limited is my life.’

  ‘You care more for that than for Susie.’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ said Chuff irritably, colouring. ‘But I care. Did you know anything of this share-selling, Jonathan? Eh?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear that. I’d have broken your neck if you had.’

  ‘Try,’ said Jonathan, savagely as before.

  ‘Well, I think you ought to have known.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Jonathan more mildly. ‘But she’s been so much better lately that I thought—’

  ‘Well, obviously she isn’t. She can’t—you’ll have to keep a sharper watch on her in the future, Jonathan.’

  ‘If she has a future,’ said Jonathan turning away.

  ‘Is it as bad as that?’ said Chuff sorrowfully.

  Jonathan nodded. They stood for a moment in silence, united by their grief. Then Chuff stirred.

  ‘Well, can’t we see her or something?’ he said, moving restlessly towards the reception desk. ‘I’m sure it would do her good to see me, Jonathan.’

  ‘I can’t say I’m sure of that.’

  ‘Let’s try anyway.’

  He explained his relationship to the night porter, Jonathan gave the name of the ward, the porter telephoned, and presently the two men found themselves traversing endless broad corridors. The smell of anaesthetic, the occasional glimpse of shadowed wards with humped beds where patients lay in pain, the encounters with nurses carrying basins of who-knew-what-horrors, drained Chuff’s courage; he could hardly force his limbs to move. Jonathan seemed more composed; of course he had done this ghastly journey before. But his pallor was alarming.

  They were met at the door of the ward by the Night Sister, who surveyed them dourly.

  ‘I told you to go home,’ she said to Jonathan, who made no reply.

  ‘Mrs Oldroyd is having a very disturbed night,’ she continued. ‘We are just going to put her under heavier sedation.’

  ‘Let me see her first,’ urged Chuff.

  ‘Very well. But I don’t know how she’ll stand it. If I say out it means out at once,’ said Sister.

  She led them into the ward and drew a curtain. Chuff found himself looking down at his sister’s lovely face, now as of white marble, with the corners of the mouth turned down so as to wreck her beauty. Jonathan sat beside her, and taking her hand in his raised it to his lips. Susie’s eyes slightly opened, she slightly smiled.

  ‘Susie,’ said Chuff.

  ‘Chuff!’ cried Susie, opening her eyes in a terrible look of fear. Her marble cheeks coloured feverishly. She shrank back against her pillows, clutched Jonathan’s hand. ‘No! No!’

  ‘Out!’ said the Sister with emphasis, seizing Chuff’s shoulder.

  If one was Morcar and an Oldroyd, reflected Chuff grimly, one took no notice of orders of that sort.

  ‘I’m sorry I was so cross on the telephone, love,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean it, you know.’

  ‘You said I ruined you.’

  ‘Oh, pooh! You don’t want to take any notice of that,’ said Chuff comfortably. ‘I was just letting off a bit of steam.’

  ‘Isn’t it true, then?

  ‘Of course, not.’

  ‘Truthfully, Chuff?’

  ‘Truthfully,’ said Chuff, choking a little.

  The colour in Susie’s cheeks sank to a more natural hue and she sighed, Chuff thought with relief. He bent forward and gently kissed her. ‘And now out you go,’ said Sister, digging her fingers viciously into Chuff’s arm. ‘You’d better go too, Mr Oldroyd. I’ll call you if there’s any change.’

  Chuff yielded, allowing himself to be hustled out beyond the curtains; Jonathan quietly followed. The two men left the ward, and began the long trek back to the entrance.

  ‘What about the—child?’ demanded Chuff. He wanted to know if it had been born alive or dead, but had not the nerve to make such a crude enquiry.

  ‘They are both living, but very frail, I understand.’

  ‘They?’

  ‘Twins.’

  ‘Twins?’ gasped Chuff.

  ‘Girl twins.’

  Two female Oldroyds! In spite of himself Chuff could not help smiling a little. Why twins should always appear laugh-worthy to a man he did not know, but so it was. He suppressed his smile firmly. Poor Susie!

  ‘I hope they’ll all do well,’ he said uneasily. ‘Susie, I mean, and the girls.’

  ‘So do I,’ said Jonathan.

  His tone was grim. They reached the hospital entrance. Chuff took down his coat from the hook where he had left it, and put it on. Jonathan watched him without making the slightest movement to assist.

  ‘I hope you’re satisfied with what you’ve done today, Chuff,’ he said.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Chuff, trying unsuccessfully—his fingers seemed numb—to button his coat. It was an expensive garment, short, well-cut, of heavy wool-cum-man-made fibre, Morcar cloth, and Chuff felt that Jonathan guessed its origin and regarded it as an added insult.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated.

  Jonathan with an impatient exclamation turned on his heel and walked sharply away to the waiting room.

  Chuff drove home badly. He actually lost his way, found himself on one of those appallingly steep lanes which spring up from West Riding valleys, and only by the most determined obstinacy, the firmest self-control, at last got himself back on to the main road, ten miles from where he had intended. It was almost dawn when he reached Stanney Royd. Ruth after one look at his face asked him nothing, but helped him silently off with his clothes and into bed. He was so exhausted that in spite of his mental torment he fell heavily asleep.

  When he awoke there was daylight; he turned his wrist and saw that the time was after eleven
o’clock. Usually when he awoke he felt cheerful; what was this frightful worry which spoiled everything this morning? He remembered—Susie. Ruth was approaching him with a cup of coffee and the morning newspaper. He looked at her, trying to judge her expression, not venturing to put the question for the answer he longed to hear.

  ‘Jonathan telephoned,’ said Ruth gravely. ‘Susie shows a slight improvement this morning.’

  Chuff gave a long heavy sigh of relief. And immediately, that anxiety being relieved, his other trouble poured over him and weighed him to the ground. What was going to become of Henry Morcar Limited? He opened the Yorkshire Post, in the business section a column was headed by a paragraph announcing the proposed merger.

  Chuff sprang from bed and made haste to Syke Mill.

  4

  Negotiations

  Half a score men, of various ages and from various departments, were standing glowering in his office. Miss Sprott fluttered about looking terrified and Chuff told her to summon the heads of departments in half an hour’s time. Acting a calmness he did not feel, he took off his coat and hat and hung it up, then seating himself at his desk enquired quietly:

  ‘Something wrong?’

  ‘We’ve come about this takeover,’ said, one of the older men.

  ‘It’s a merger, not a takeover,’ said Chuff irritably.

  ‘Looks the same to us. What will it mean exactly, like?’

  ‘I hope it won’t mean anything. I don’t want a merger or a takeover, any more than you do.’

  ‘Well, you see, Syke Mill’s our lives. We been here a long time, some of us. We been all right here, with your grandfather.’

  ‘I’m not my grandfather.’

  ‘Us can see that,’ said a young voice sardonically.

  ‘And these times are not his times. Everything is different, and these mergers are all the fashion.’

  ‘Well, we don’t want no merger.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ said Chuff savagely.

  ‘Shall you turn it down, then?’

  ‘If I can.’

  There was a murmer of dissatisfaction and the men shuffled their feet uneasily.

  ‘You needn’t worry!’ shouted Chuff suddenly, losing his temper: ‘The larger the firm is, the more you’ll prosper.’