In the Bleak Midwinter

by Stan Mason

  One morning, Ivan wrapped himself in a heavy overcoat and left the house before she awoke. Pulling up the collar to protect himself from the biting cold wind, he was surprised at the savage change of temperature. Summer and winder had merged together unobserved and it trouble him to realise that the months had passed by so quickly. Once in the City, he became filled with concern. His formal training now seemed academic and he was uncertain, bewildered and riddle with worry that he might have been wasting his time. He roamed the streets for a while until he found the café where he had humiliated himself with James and Morris and entered, taking a seat in the corner table. The atmosphere inside the room began to thaw him and he flexed his fingers slowly feeling the blood starting to flow back again. It was simply a matter of waiting for the mining consultant to appear. He checked his watch to note that it was nine-thirty and the vigil began. Elsie had given him the wristwatch as a gift. She had been very kind to him and he knew that he ought to have shown her much more appreciation but then people like Elsie were to be used as stepping-stones for others... especially those with talent or potential. Her role in life would be to support him, he would make sure of that.

  After a second cup of coffee, he waited patiently although his stomach somersaulted each time the door opened to admit another customer. Time limped by but James did not appear. Patience gave way to restlessness and then to intolerance. The hands on his wristwatch moved to ten-thirty It had been unwise to depend on a chance meeting The mining consultant could be anywhere. There was little that Ivan could do except to wait a little longer.

  When James failed to show up by noon, Ivan realised that it was pointless to wait any longer. All the pent up enthusiasm had drained slowly from his mind while the hope which had fired him earlier was lost in a measure of sound disappointment. He left the café and threaded his way through the streets of the City against a throng of people making their way to lunch. Eventually he found himself at the window of a building society displaying photographs of the most interesting mines in Cornwall. He gazed at them with interest, enthralled as imagination took free rein This was the work he wanted to do! Extract metals and crude minerals from the ground for the manufacture of material goods. Elsie could help him too by providing financial support in the early stages. Subsequently it was the prime subject for discussion when he returned home for dinner that evening.

  ‘You think I failed,’ he explained after giving her a brief account of the events of the day., ‘but I’ve discovered a money machine.’

  ‘A money machine,’ she laughed although it brought back memories of her late husband’s over-enthusiasm of becoming rich from his poorly laid plans.

  ‘I know of a mine that’s up for sale. The new owners will need people to work it. Let me have a pen and paper and I’ll show you what I mean. By the way,’ he went on keeping his voice at a constant level. ‘I’ll need some money A few thousand pounds will do to start with.’

  She was about to go to the cupboard to fetch some writing paper when his last request fell on unbelieving ears. ‘A few thousand pounds!’ she echoed with incredulity, shaken by his unmitigated audacity. He looked up at her pretending not to note her surprise. ‘You loafer!’ she screamed angrily losing her temper. ‘When you first came here you were dressed in rags! You slept in a hut in the park! You had nothing and I asked you for nothing! I work bloody hard to save a few pounds and I’m damned if I’m going to give it to you on some wild scheme!’

  The Russian listened calmly without shame. ‘Elsie!’ he chided gently. ‘You don’t understand. This is just a loan. I’ll pay you back. Once I start earning money, I’ll pay you back.’

  ‘You’re not even nice to me any more,’ she cried bitterly. ‘For the last few months, I’ve fed you, washed your clothes and looked after you without any appreciation at all!’

  ‘All right, Elsie,’ he responded softly. ‘Forget I ever asked. I don’t want your savings. Keep them for yourself. I’ll get the money somewhere else.’ He rose and moved behind her, gently caressing the back of her neck. His sensitive fingers and smooth voice produced te precise formula needed to influence her. She moved her head back slightly to the rhythm of the massage trying hard not to melt at the touch , but her body began to drift emotionally. Suddenly, however, she countered, resisting her weakness despite her desire to surrender unconditionally.

  ‘Stop it!’ she ordered but he ignored her command. ‘If you don’t stop it... ‘ She tailed off succumbing to her femininity again.

  ‘What will you do if I don’t?’ he asked in a whisper with an element of triumph in his voice.

  Without warning, emotion swept over her like a tidal wave. In a flash, she turned, pulling his head firmly to her own, and pressed her lips forcefully to his face. Pushing him aside, she pulled the curtains to plunge the room into darkness.

  ‘Now!’ she pleaded with every fibre in her body trembling. ‘Do it now!’ She took hold of him firmly in the blackness. He gripped her body tightly, pulling her down to the floor but this time he was the paragon of a gentleman himself. As far as he was concerned, Elsie was going to receive value for money... regardless of the amount she intended to give him from her savings!

  ***

  A week later, he awoke early and nudged Elsie with his elbow. She merely moaned and rolled over. He climbed out of bed, shivered, cursed the cold weather, and dressed quickly. Elsie sat up dreamily pulling the bedclothes tightly to her body as he went to the front door to pick up a letter that lay on the mat. It was the authority allowing him to collect the money from her Post Office account.

  ‘Come on!’ he urged, as she lay back in bed to fall asleep again. ‘We have work to do.’

  ‘You and your damned money!’ she muttered miserably. ‘Can’t you wait until tomorrow?’ She pushed back the bedclothes swinging her legs wearily over the edge of the bed. The man was hardly worth all the trouble and she was beginning to doubt whether she needed him as much as she imagined. Certainly she could do without the aggravation he caused her but there were other times of joy and ecstasy. After all, life was anything but perfect! At least he comforted her and gave her protection at night. Apart from that, living with a man, whatever he was like, was better than being miserable alone.

  When Ivan left the Post Office, he could hardly contain his excitement. He carried a bundle of banknotes amounting to nine hundred pounds in his pocket. It was all that Elsie had in her savings. He touched the bulge nervously every few moments to satisfy himself that the treasure was still there. His first assignment however was to attend to another Post Office branch where he had arranged for mail to be sent. On arrival, he was handed two letters. The first contained a volley of abuse and insults from Josef demanding his return at once, which he flung carelessly into the waste-paper bin. He tore open the envelope of the second letter and his hand shook as he unfolded the single sheet of paper inside. It was from Anna!

  Dear Ivan,

  I hope you are well. This is the last time I shall write to you. I hope you are not in any kind of trouble. Josef and Peter are well and little Ivan is fine. He is one month old today and looks just like you... his father. Of one thing I’m certain, we are no longer students and we have to take our place in the world. Please write if you can.

  Love Anna.

  The Russian stood by the doorway digesting the contents of the letter. Ivan? A one-month old boy? Slowly the truth began to dawn on him as he realised what had happened. He was a father! For a few moments he was both confused and angry, then he pushed his way into the street without seeing or feeling anything. As he walked swiftly along the pavement, he charged careless into people walking towards him until someone resisted him firmly and he was knocked to the ground.

  ‘Easy there! Easy!’ warned a voice and hands thrust forward to lift him to his feet from the pavement.

  Ivan looked up as if in a trance to stare directly into the eyes of James, t
he mining consultant.

  Well, well! If it isn’t my little friend from the café,’ he uttered with a slight smile touching his lips. ‘What’s the problem this time... overwork?’

  Ivan stared at him with disbelief. Then, flinging his arms around James’s neck, he hugged him closely, sobbing as he gave a great sigh of relief.

  Chapter Eight

  The daunting prospect of a full-scale war with the Lancaster family troubled Sadler greatly. It was a battle between David and Goliath but he couldn’t be certain to achieve that same result as that recorded in the Holy Bible. He was taking up the cudgels to fight a family of millionaires which wielded great influence. His only weapon was Della herself and the slim hope that her interest in the family business had been abused. Urged on by self-encouragement, that faint heart never won fair lady, he drove down to Botallack to discuss the matter with her personally. She invited him inside the shack and led him to a room where the floorboards creaked whatever weight was placed upon them. He was treading a dangerous path but he had to explain that his role would prove beneficial to her. The wallpaper in the room sported large wet patches and stains, some grained with a light layer of mould, while a strange ugly stench seem to fill every corner, implying that there were more serious problems lurking in the background. The furniture was extremely scant and the only bric-a-brac consisted of a number of religious artefacts indicating that, despite her sins in the past, Della Lancaster adhered closely to her faith. Outside the wind howled, sounding at the peak of gale force, and draughts proliferated everywhere blowing incessantly from every nook and cranny. It was hardly a suitable place for an heiress to reside. After she had made him a pot of tea, he sat on the edge of an old armchair and directed his argument at point-blank range.

  ‘As a direct descendant of Harcourt Lancaster, the founder of the organisation, you must own a great number of shares in the company. If so, why are you living in such appalling conditions?’ he began.

  ‘It’s all rather complicated, Mr Sadler,’ she replied easily. ‘The shares are in trust controlled by the Lancaster family. When the row blew up over Homer, they took a hard-nosed stance and threatened to pass the matter directly to their lawyers if I tried to interfere or obstruct them. They’d create a mist that would take years to unravel the knots. I had no money to counter any claims. It was simpler for me to walk away from it all. At least I’d have peace of mind.’

  ‘How do you feel about it after all this time?’

  ‘A little angry, I suppose. It all went wrong from the start. First of all the family. I was exiled. Then I had the miscarriage. Then Homer left. I knew what I was getting myself into from the start. I’m not blaming anyone else.’

  ‘After the miscarriage, did Clement offer to forgive and forget?’

  ‘He knew nothing about it. Home and I found a little cottage in a rural area and disappeared from civilisation for a while. As far as Clement was concerned, I’d gone for good.’

  ‘That doesn’t alter the fact that you had financial interests. You ought to be allowed the opportunity of living off the income at least.,’

  ‘May I ask what my personal affairs are to you, Mr. Sadler?’

  He felt disconcerted at the cool diplomatic manner in which she reacted. No enthusiasm, no anger, completely placid! ‘I want to buy Botllack and I want the Lancaster family to purchase a share in the mine, I’ll be honest with you. It’s my intention to trade you back to your family... if you want to return to them and live in comfort once more. After all, why should they have all the cream and live you to rot in a place like this?’

  She burst into laughter at his comments. ‘My goodness,’ she commended. ‘You have tremendous audacity. I’ve never been held to ransom before. It’s almost like an adventure. A knight coming to rescue me on a white horse. And I thought bank managers were dull people.’

  ‘I’m sure if we joined forces we’d both benefit.’

  She smiled at his enthusiasm but was clearly less optimistic. ‘How little you know of my cousin Clement. He thinks, lives and breathes for money and business. And he doesn’t trust anyone. When he was six years old his father lifted him on to a chest three feet high and told him to jump, promising to catch the boy and telling him to trust him. So Clement jumped and nearly broke his legs because his father failed to make the slightest effort to save him. “Let that be a lesson to you, son” stated his father afterwards. “Never trust anyone! Not anyone!” And Clement has never forgotten the incident.

  ‘So you don’t think I have a chance, do you?’ resumed the banker, understand the position a little more clearly. ‘Well you don’t know me. I’m like a bulldog. I never let go!’

  She stared at him trying to assess whether he was simply rash or foolhardy. ‘You don’t know what you’re taking on,’ she warned him. ‘The first think they’d do would be to make sure you lost your appointment with your bank. They could make that happen quite easily.’

  ‘If I get the mine I won’t need the bank,’ he told her frankly, then his eyes softened and he looked at her closely. ‘I think you’re a stunningly beautiful woman. You take my breath away.’

  She appeared to be disconcerted by his remark and decided to impart to him a fragment of her past life. ‘Clement once felt very close to me. He asked me three times to marry him even though he was my cousin. When I became involved with Homer, his love turned to hate, so he’s the last person willing to agree to take me back into the fold... and he’s the head of the family and the business.

  Sadler thought the matter over briefly with a stern expression on his face. ‘Yes,’ he remarked. ‘It’s going to be tough.’

  ‘I have to admit that it has its attractions,’ she went on before reverting to her religious teachings. ‘Let me say that God, through Jesus Christ, will guide my destiny.’ She inhaled deeply and broached a new subject. ‘You ask for my alliance in a quest that seems impossible, Mr. Sadler, yet I know nothing about you.’

  ‘That deficiency will be corrected in due course... unless you have another agenda.’

  She laughed easily once more. ‘If you’re thinking about Homer, you needn’t trouble. He left long ago That chapter of my life is closed.’

  ‘We have nothing to lose. My career with the bank will be ending soon, and I’m sure you don’t wish to remain keeper of the keys of the mine for the rest of your life. What do you say?’

  A gleam shone in her eyes at the thought but it soon faded. ‘There’s something else you should know’ she confided. ‘A clause in my father’s Will precluded me from succeeding the any claim. He was very old when I was born and he was concerned whether or not I was his child. I was the sole beneficiary and he placed everything in trust until I turned the age of thirty. However there was one other condition that I would lose all benefits under the Will if I bore a child out of wedlock. Don’t ask me the meaning behind it. I had no idea what was in his mind.’

  ‘And Clement used that as an excuse to disinherit you.’

  ‘Legally he was in his rights... and so were the trustees. Homer and I could have got married but it didn’t suit me at the time.’ There were a few moments of silence. ‘What do you intend to do now?’

  The only way forward is direct discussion and negotiation. That means confrontation with Clement. We have to beard the lion in his den. I’m going to study company law, inheritance, and trusts. Then I’ll prepare a plan of campaign. We must set a course for our objectives.’

  ‘I’m fascinated to learn why you’ve such a desire to buy the mine. It has a very chequered history affected by the cyclical nature of the tin price and it’s remained unworked for many decades. Yet you’re willing to move heaven and earth to buy it. I have to admit I’m intrigued.’

  He went to the window to stare out at the rugged landscape. ‘Botallack,’ he told her, ‘represents my whole future... for good or evil. It sprawls here like a sleeping tiger,
purring softly, masterful, majestic! There are so many things I could do with that mine.’

  ‘Yet no one else... not even the experts... have seen fit to re-open it. So why should a bank manager want to open a derelict mine?’

  ‘My God!’ he repeated. ‘You’re a very beautiful woman, Della.’

  She frowned slightly. ‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t blaspheme Mr. Sadler,’ she chided formally. ‘Equally, if we are to have any alliance, you should refer to me as Miss Lancaster.’

  He shrugged his shoulders aimlessly considered that he had lost a small battle. ‘Very well if you want it that way,’ he retorted, ‘but don’t expect me to sit on the sidelines like a cold fish.’ He moved forward, took her in his arms, and kissed her firmly on the lips. She did not resist him, being too surprised to react, failing to co-operate. It was then that he envisaged the image of Home White taking her in his arms and kissing her. The vision caused his lustfulness to wane and he released her quickly.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he uttered, wiping his lips on his white handkerchief as though intending to remove the germs of her previous lover. ‘I won’t let that happen again.’

  She stared at the handkerchief and laughed gently. ‘You don’t have to do that,’ she said accusingly. ‘Homer didn’t melt. His colour never came off so you’re quite safe.’

  He felt cheap and annoyed that he allowed her to cut him down to size. She knew that he had been thinking of Homer and had sensed his distaste. Sadler had been the author of his own misfortune and, to his dismay, Della Lancaster was not the kind of person to suffer fools!