Angels at War

by Freda Lightfoot

  ‘I bet Grayson doesn’t approve of your shenanigans. Stores in London are having their windows shattered by suffragettes. I doubt he’d want something like that to happen here.’ He was sliding her blouse from her shoulders, kissing her breasts.

  ‘Neither would I,’ Livia huffed, struggling to restore order to her clothing. She was almost regretting having succumbed to his kisses as she really had far too much to do today. Several boxes needed to be unpacked for a start. ‘Fortunately, it isn’t going to happen. Now can I get on, please?’

  He let her go with reluctance. Livia pulled open a box and began lifting out crockery that had once formed part of her mother’s dinner service and was quite precious to her. ‘Even so we’re very determined, and I mean to be fully involved with the cause.’

  Jack’s scowl darkened. ‘So what I think doesn’t count, is that it? You’ll just ride roughshod over my feelings. Same as you did when you chose this house. I might have liked to be asked before you took it on.’

  ‘What? But you were the one to suggest we should try and better ourselves, after that lunch with Mrs Grayson.’

  ‘Aye, when I’m good and ready and can afford to pay the rent.’

  Livia laughed as she gently placed a soup tureen on the table, followed by a gravy boat and meat dish. ‘Not that old chestnut again. You are a caveman. Why can’t we be equal and share the cost?’

  ‘That’s not how things are done.’

  ‘It’s how things should be done. I want to pay my share and have equal consideration, what’s so wrong with that?’

  Jack flung himself down on the only chair. ‘You might be paying more than your share in future. I’ve been laid off.’

  She swung about, appalled by this news. ‘Laid off? Why? What did you do?’

  ‘I didn’t do nowt. I wasn’t drunk, or late for work, if that’s what you’re thinking. The houses only need finishing off now, so brickies and labourers like me are no longer needed, only skilled artisans. So I’ve been chucked off the building site.’

  ‘Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry.’ This was the last thing she’d expected, although it did explain why he’d been in such a bad mood lately. He must have seen this coming yet said nothing, perhaps not wishing to worry her. Livia went to put her arms about his neck, kissed his cheek, his eyes, his mouth. ‘Don’t worry, love, at least I’m earning now. Look, let’s stop this constant bickering. I want us to be happy, as we used to be. I’m not trying to undermine or diminish you in any way, I just want us to decide things together.’

  ‘I know what you want. You’re obsessed with running that flipping department store. I’ll be lucky to see you at all if you get your way.’

  ‘Please try to understand, Jack. It’s my heritage.’ Stifling a sigh Livia went back to her unpacking, although the heart had gone out of her now. The excitement of moving house had suddenly palled in the face of this new crisis, her mind already trying to assess if she really could earn enough money to keep them and pay the rent until Jack found himself another job.

  ‘But you’ve precious little faith in me.’ He leapt from the chair and thumped a fist on the table, making the crockery clink and rattle. ‘I blame that Grayson bloke for all this, he’s encouraged you in these high-sounding ambitions of yours.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. For goodness sake, calm down. I understand your distress, but you’re frightening me.’

  ‘Do you even love me?’

  ‘You know that I do.’ He was as handsome as the first day she’d met him, his collar-length dark hair still as wild and untamed as Jack himself. He was bold and exciting, and in his better moments, caring and kind. How could she not love him? Yet there was a hard, mocking light in the velvet brown eyes now, making them seem even more brooding than normal beneath the winged brows.

  ‘You show little evidence of it, and precious little faith in my abilities. Just bossily take over and say you can manage perfectly well without me.’

  ‘I didn’t say that at all. I have every faith you’ll get another job very soon. All I’m saying is that my money will help us get by in the meantime.’

  ‘As a matter of fact I don’t need your flaming money. I’ve already found a new job,’ he bragged. ‘Being laid off was an ill wind that blew some good because it made me go cap in hand to the new owner of the stocking factory. I start tomorrow. I’m skilled in that job, if you remember.’

  ‘Oh, but that’s marvellous!’ Livia’s face broke into a wide smile, which quickly changed to a puzzled frown. ‘Then why didn’t you say so right away? Why frighten me like that?’

  ‘Mebbe because I wanted you to see that you do still need me, yet you obviously don’t.’

  ‘Of course I need you, but not because of the money you bring in.’

  Jack looked at her with scorn on his handsome face. ‘You fancied me when I was fighting battles for the poor of Fellside against your father. I was your hero then. Now that I’m just an ordinary bloke in a mundane job you don’t think I’m capable of achieving anything worthwhile. And all because I’m not as clever as you.’

  ‘That’s not true. I don’t see you as incapable at all, and you’re still my hero. I love you.’ She went to him eagerly, wanting, needing to understand what was really troubling him, not even beginning to guess where this conversation might be leading.

  ‘You might ask what I want occasionally.’

  She smiled at him. ‘Tell me, I’m all ears.’

  ‘Now that I’ve got myself a decent job at last, I reckon it’s time for you to give up work. We can get married now and start a family.’

  Livia’s heart sank to her boots. Why hadn’t she seen this coming? Had all this talk of losing his job simply been a ploy to unsettle her, to twist things around so that he could reassert what he saw as his rightful masculine power? The tension between them was palpable as she took a shaky breath. ‘I love you dearly, Jack, you know I do, but we’ve been through all of this a hundred times and I’m really not ready to settle down. Not just yet. I’ve so much to think about right now and—’

  She got no further as he picked up the soup tureen and smashed it to the floor. Livia cried out but he didn’t hear her as he was yelling at the top of his voice.

  ‘I’ve had enough of being ignored while you surround yourself with your posh possessions, your department store, and your precious cause. I’m the man in this house, and don’t you bloody forget it!’

  ‘Oh, Jack, what have you done?’

  They both stared in horror at the broken shards of pottery on the floor, Jack seeming to be equally appalled where his temper had led him. ‘It’s your fault. You drove me to it.’

  Livia had never felt more miserable, or more filled with guilt. ‘I’ve neglected you, I can see that now. I’ve been so involved with getting to grips with the business of running the store, and now this franchise business, that you’re right, I did forget about us, about you.’

  He looked at her then with anguish in his eyes. ‘Can’t you see how much I need you, Livvy? You’re the heart and soul of me. I’m nothing without you.’

  Her heart filled with love for him, her generosity such that she could do nothing but hold him and comfort him, and when he made love to her with a new tenderness, she found herself promising that she would give his proposal serious consideration.

  Chapter Fourteen

  In the days and weeks following their latest row, Livia found it difficult to concentrate on anything but Jack’s proposal. Even though she loved him she felt no more wish to marry than she had on her wedding day. What was wrong with her? Why was she so obsessed with work and ambition that she was prepared to risk her own personal happiness for it?

  The trouble was she didn’t feel happy, and whenever Jack repeated his offer, which he did with troubling frequency, she simply begged for more time. She kept making excuses that she was too busy with Christmas trade, and then the January sales, even to have time to think.

  As a result of her prevarication, Jack became increasingly depre
ssed, realising he was being fobbed off. He would hang around the store late of an afternoon on his way home from the stocking factory, resentful of the fact that Livia was inside, still working, when she should be at home making his tea. He hated the fact that she was always last out through the door while the other girls would come clattering out, giggling and chatting as they went happily off arm in arm for a walk by the river, casting him pitying looks because he couldn’t even persuade his girl to marry him.

  Losing patience one day, Jack marched right up to the lingerie counter where she worked, and demanded Livia come home with him there and then.

  ‘It’s time we got things sorted between us,’ he yelled. ‘I need to know where I stand.’

  Livia stared at him, horrified. ‘Jack, don’t do this, you’re embarrassing me. I still have things to do. Wait for me outside, please. I won’t be long.’

  He absolutely refused to leave, making such a rumpus that Mr Tolson, the chief floorwalker, called for help and Jack was frogmarched from the premises in a most unseemly fashion.

  Livia was mortified. How dare he behave in such a reprehensible fashion, embarrassing her before everyone? And yet she realised the fault was partly hers. She couldn’t go on postponing a decision indefinitely.

  Out on the pavement again, Jack raged back and forth, furious at having been so summarily dismissed. Dolly, who had witnessed the incident and felt rather sorry for him kicking his heels in the rain, went over.

  ‘Are you all right? Mr Tolson can get a bit uppity. He needs bringing down a peg or two. Anyroad, I’m sure Livia won’t be long. Though she often has a bit of paperwork to do at the end of the day, in the office with Mr Grayson.’

  And that was another thing he hated, the amount of time she spent with that man. A real thorn in his side, that new manager had turned out to be. Jack smiled at the pretty girl before him and felt his resentment burn deep. ‘You wouldn’t neglect your fella as she does, would you love? What’s so wrong in wanting a happy family and a loving wife to come home to?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You have lovely red hair. What’s your name?’

  ‘Dolly.’

  ‘Do you want to get married, Dolly?’

  ‘Course I do, one day.’

  ‘There you are then. I should think you’d make someone a good wife, pretty girl like you, not neglect your man and put him last all the time.’

  Dolly blushed, not quite knowing how to answer this. She was feeling slightly flustered by this conversation. It wouldn’t do at all for her to be seen talking to Miss Angel’s man, good-looking though he undoubtedly was. Even though Dolly called her Livia to her face, and to others, in her head she was still Miss Angel, still the owner of the store. And messing with her fella couldn’t be right, could it?

  Although they weren’t actually married, and he was very handsome …

  ‘Livia has a lot more responsibility than me,’ she offered by way of an excuse. ‘I’m sure she’ll come soon, when she’s checked the day’s taking with Mr Grayson.’

  She was about to turn away but Jack put a hand on her arm to prevent her from escaping. Then slipping his arms about her, he pulled her close and clumsily kissed her cheek. Dolly giggled, quite enjoying the attention.

  ‘How about if you and me pop in the Wheatsheaf for a wee dram. It’s warmer in there, and you could keep me company while I wait.’

  Dolly was properly flummoxed now. ‘Ooer, I’m not sure I should. I’d best run and catch up with me mates.’

  Turning on her heel, Dolly did just that. Jack called after her, his voice sharp with despair, slurred from the couple of pints and chasers he’d already drunk when he’d stopped off at the pub on his way to the store. ‘Hey, don’t go. Give a bloke a chance.’

  But the silly mare had caught up with her mates and vanished through one of the yards that led down to the river. Jack stood alone in the street, brimming with anger and hurt pride, then turning on his heel, he slammed into the Wheatsheaf and ordered himself a large whisky to drown his grievances.

  After a while someone slipped in beside him. ‘I changed me mind. Thought you might happen need a bit of company.’

  Jack looked into the young girl’s bright eyes. ‘Aye, I do. Doris, was it?’

  ‘Dolly.’

  ‘Dolly, of course.’ He slid his arm about the girl’s thin shoulders. ‘So, what can I get you, Dolly? Nice glass of stout, or is a port and lemon more your style?’

  ‘Ooer, that’d be a rare treat, that would.’

  Jack called the order to the barman, ‘and another whisky for myself. We’re celebrating the birth of a new friendship. Now then, lovely girl, why don’t you tell me all about yourself.’

  Enjoying a drink together in the Wheatsheaf became a regular event after that. Although Dolly was filled with guilt every time she saw Livia, her conscience didn’t trouble her sufficiently to stop seeing Jack. He was ever so handsome, and good fun. If Miss Angel didn’t pay him the proper attention he deserved, she had only herself to blame. Besides, they weren’t doing anything wrong. She hadn’t even let him kiss her. Not yet, anyroad, though Dolly would not have been against the idea, had he tried anything on.

  Jack was certainly not averse to a little light dalliance. Much as he adored Livia, he nursed a deep sense of rejection over the way she seemed to manage her life perfectly well without him.

  Young Dolly was a fly-by-night sort of girl with few brains in her head, not even particularly pretty despite the many compliments he paid her. But she was warm and loving, which was more than Livia was these days. She was good for a laugh and a bit of fun, and what was so wrong in that while he waited for madam to make up her mind?

  As winter turned into spring Livia still hadn’t given him an answer, although on the surface all was well between them again. At least they were together every day now that she was no longer living in at the store. She buried her unhappiness deep by becoming more and more involved in the WSPU, attending local meetings, helping to produce posters and leaflets, even writing letters to prominent members of Parliament. Livia couldn’t imagine ever giving this up as it was too important to her, and too worthwhile.

  Admittedly she felt tired and listless, probably because she’d been working too hard, but she loved her job at the store and had no wish to give that up either.

  She was working with the buyers now, learning about purchasing, about stock levels and profit margins. She’d also been put in charge of fitting out the new tea room, choosing the right furniture and décor, hiring staff and planning suitable menus. It was all most exciting and very demanding.

  Matthew Grayson was surprisingly supportive, giving her more and more responsibility. They met regularly, ostensibly to talk business, either in his office or at his home, although Jack no longer accompanied her to Windermere these days, and lunch was never on the menu. She’d deliberately ignored the small voice at the back of her head warning her not to accept his invitations, and had succumbed. The pair of them would thrash out problems over a pot of tea and some of his housekeeper’s delicious scones.

  Beyond a polite good day, Mrs Grayson tended to completely ignore Livia’s presence and keep well out of the way. Her disapproval was palpable but Livia took no notice. It wasn’t the older woman’s respect she sought but that of her son. They’d grown comfortable with each other, almost friends, which seemed an odd thing to say when she’d initially so resented his presence at the store. At least, Livia insisted that her feelings for him were nothing more than friendship.

  Jack was her man. He was the one she loved and if she was to marry anyone, it would be him. Wouldn’t it?

  Today Grayson had taken her out in his yacht on the lake. It was a lovely steam launch with sleek lines, walnut panelling in the cabin, crimson velvet upholstery and even a white marble wash basin. He moored it in a quiet bay and, as there was a cold March wind blowing, they sat under the awning aft of the cabin while he brewed them hot tea in the urn that sat over the boiler.

&n
bsp; ‘How very civilised,’ she laughed.

  ‘It’s called a Windermere kettle. All the steam boats have one, and you need it in this mountain climate.’ He served tea in a silver tea pot, engraved with a crest but chuckled when she asked if it belonged to his family.

  ‘Whatever my mother might boast about the successful men in our family, none have risen so far as to deserve a crest or a knighthood, or anything of that sort. Hard working Yorkshire stock, that’s the Grayson family. I still own a woollen mill over in Halifax, a small one but financially sound, and of course one of Angel’s suppliers.’

  ‘I’d noticed, being thoroughly initiated now in the buying side of things.’

  His mouth widened into that familiar winning smile. ‘Are you enjoying it?’

  ‘Oh yes, loving every minute.’

  ‘I love your enthusiasm,’ he said, quite unnerving her. Livia knew she shouldn’t even be here, enjoying afternoon tea with one man when she was supposed to be engaged to another.

  Taking one of the delicious scones he offered her, she attempted to remain calm and businesslike. ‘Isn’t enthusiasm essential in business, particularly in retailing? How can we expect our customers to love something if we can’t transmit our own liking for it.’

  ‘You sound very practical, as if you’ve thought it all through.’

  ‘Do I?’ She let out a small sigh. ‘Sometimes I think I’m far too practical for my own good. Too responsible. All my life my sisters have turned to me with their troubles, and once Mother died there was no one but me to protect them, certainly not Father. Jack says I fall into the trap of thinking I must carry the whole world’s problems on my shoulders.’

  ‘He might be right. Your business skills have certainly grown considerably these last months, but what about your personal life? You should allow more time for that. What about Jack? Have you decided yet whether or not you’re going to marry him? Has he even asked you?’