Shoddy Prince

by Sheelagh Kelly

With a sigh, Oriel took the money and left for college. Within minutes of arriving, however, she had received, by proxy, Nat’s offer of employment and was so excited that she decided to go home at lunchtime after all.

  ‘I’ve got a job!’ She burst upon her mother who was dusting ornaments from the ebony display cabinet over the mantelpiece and almost knocked one of them to the hearth in her fright.

  ‘You nearly gave me a fit! What are you doing home? I’ve no meal prepared. I’m just getting the room ready for my new gramophone.’ Bright’s forehead creased. ‘What d’you mean you’ve got a job?’

  As usual when caught up in excitement, Oriel delivered her words like machine gun bullets. ‘Whilst I was away last week someone came in asking for a secretary and the headmaster proposed me!’

  Bright allowed her duster to rest. ‘But you haven’t even passed your exams.’

  ‘Oh pooh, that’s just a formality!’ Oriel took off her hat and threw it across the room like a flying saucer. ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’

  Bright pursed her lips and retrieved the hat. ‘Just because you own the place doesn’t mean you can throw things all over for me to pick up.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Oriel showed contrition, accepted the hat, then urged, ‘But aren’t you glad?’

  ‘Maybe I would be if I knew what it involved.’ Bright straightened the pom-poms on the red velvet mantel cover. ‘I mean, who is this person who wants you to work for him – I assume it is a man?’

  ‘A Mr Price. The headmaster’s going to make an appointment with him on my behalf!’

  ‘Where does he live? Is he married? What line of business is he in?’ Oriel beat off the questions with a laugh. ‘I don’t know!’

  ‘Well you should! Perhaps I should go with you…’

  ‘Oh yes, and make it look as if I’m not fit to be out on my own!’

  ‘I’m only trying to point out the dangers…’ Even when Oriel was small, Bright had never quite felt that she had full control over her daughter as enjoyed by other parents, so repressed had she felt by Miss Bytheway’s dictate.

  ‘Mother, I’m quite old enough to judge this man for myself. If I don’t like him I shall turn down his offer of work – even if it is an important position. Apparently I’m to be entrusted with all his business accounts.’

  ‘And he’s to be entrusted with my daughter.’ At Oriel’s protest, Bright held up her hands. ‘Well, you surely don’t expect me to let you go into a man’s house without asking questions, do you? You’re all I’ve got.’

  Oriel understood then and came forward to touch her mother’s arm. ‘I promise I won’t set foot in his house until I’m provided with more information about him. Now, can I get you some lunch?’

  ‘No, I’ll get it for you.’ Bright moved into action. ‘You have to be back at college – oh, and have you got a sheep’s head, by the way?’

  Oriel looked in the mirror. ‘No, it looks pretty normal.’

  ‘I’ll clout you!’

  ‘Sorry, but you didn’t expect it until tonight anyway, did you?’

  ‘No, but I thought I’d better remind you, what with your head being so full of this business.’ Perhaps that had made it sound as if she wasn’t interested in her daughter’s future. Bright paused on her way to the scullery. ‘I am glad for you, dear, I really am, it’s just…’

  ‘I know.’ Oriel patted her tenderly. ‘I know.’

  * * *

  After lunch Oriel returned to college. With time to ponder on the interview ahead her excitement had begun to dwindle. What was the point in going? She would only be turned down, as she had been rejected for the nursing post. Why, when she had no need of money, was she about to put herself through the humiliation of having to announce her illegitimacy? Oriel decided she would tell the headmaster she would not take the post. This she duly did, giving the excuse that her mother was rather worried for her safety.

  The headmaster understood. ‘Well, yes, I can see your mother’s point of view. In fact I myself was rather uneasy at first, until Mr Price assured me of his charitable motives.’

  Oriel frowned. ‘I beg your pardon, sir, but I am not in need of charity.’

  ‘No, no of course not, Miss Maguire, I did not mean to insinuate that you were.’ He sighed. ‘Oh look, subterfuge is not my forte. At the risk of breaking a confidence let me be frank. Mr Price specifically asked for you. He informed me that, although he had never made your acquaintance he had heard that the death of Miss, er Miss…’

  ‘Miss Bytheway,’ provided Oriel.

  ‘Yes. That her death had left you and your mother in a desperate situation, and without wishing to insult you by charity he asked if I could enlist your qualifications as his secretary. As you would no doubt be seeking employment in the near future, I agreed to help. I hope I have done you no disservice.’

  Oriel was completely bamboozled and stood there frowning. ‘No, of course not. Though I can assure you that neither my mother nor I have any need of charity. We are quite able to support ourselves. Nevertheless,’ she was burning to discover the identity of her prospective employer and even more importantly his reasons, ‘I would like to speak to this gentleman. Can you give me his address?’

  ‘Of course – in fact after I had spoken to you this morning I took the liberty of asking my secretary to make an appointment with him.’ The man went into the outer office and returned with a piece of paper. This is his address. You are to call on Thursday afternoon at two o’clock.’

  How would her curiosity ever wait that long? With her friends eager to hear the details, Oriel did little work that afternoon, too busy puzzling over the charitable stranger. Ego prevented her from divulging the full details of the conversation to them or to her mother, preferring to have everyone think that she had been selected for her qualifications rather than out of kindness. Yet who on earth would be so kind? She could not possibly imagine, and continued to rack her brain until finally Thursday afternoon came and the mystery was revealed – at least half of it.

  Oriel’s lips parted as the houseowner opened the door. It was the man to whom Noel had been talking only the other day! Well, that explained who had been his informant about Miss Bytheway’s death, but it still did not tell her why he wished to help. Remembering her manners she introduced herself. ‘Good afternoon, I’m Oriel Maguire. Mr Price, I believe?’

  Nat felt as though a hole were being burned through his stomach. Oh God, why had he done this? How would he prevent her from discovering his real name if she was handling his letters? Could he bear to look at his mother every day? ‘Yes, yes… come in.’

  Her entry prohibited by a barking hound, Oriel remained on the footpath. The Georgian house, though large, had no front garden.

  The man looked embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry, I’m going to have to ask you to remove your hat.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Oriel cupped her ear, his words obliterated by the din.

  ‘Shut up, Talbot! Your hat! He’s frightened of people in hats!’

  Perplexed but amused, Oriel removed her hat and within seconds the barking had ceased. At the man’s summons she followed him across the threshold.

  The interior, though more spacious, was of a similar layout to her own home: a long hallway with two rooms downstairs to her right hand side and a staircase directly ahead. It had an extra doorway that apparently led to the kitchen. After depositing her beribboned hat on a peg, the man led her into the room that overlooked the front street. It was crammed with expensive furniture and had a white marble fireplace with columns topped by ram’s heads. The decor was very elegant. Oriel wondered who had devised it. She finished her inspection and looked at him. When she had been standing there for some moments and nothing more had passed his lips, she began to feel awkward. ‘I believe you need a secretary?’

  Nat was jolted into the present. Her voice was nothing like his mother’s. ‘Yes…’ Not knowing what to say he looked around and seized a pile of books, thrusting them at her. ‘Do you want to look them
over?’ Worried that his face might hold the same menace for her as it seemed to do for others, he offered a smile.

  Oriel smiled too, seemingly unafraid, and putting the books upon a table she began to peruse them. ‘Your last secretary was a bit untidy.’

  Nat, who had been following the line of her jaw, started. ‘Oh, I’ve never had a secretary. I do the books meself.’

  Oriel blushed. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be—’

  ‘No, you’re right, they are a mess! That’s why I decided to… what with…’ You’re bumbling, he told himself. Calm down! ‘Well, it’s become a bit of a chore so I thought…’ He spread his palms, hoping she would understand.

  She seemed to, and nodded. ‘I may need a little assistance in learning your method but I think I’ll be able to pick it up quite quickly.’ Closing the ledger, she turned towards him, a question on her lips: had he recently moved his residence from Fulford, as she had seen so much of him there? Just at that point the telephone rang and Nat went into the hallway, though she could still see him as he spoke into the contraption on the wall.

  In his absence Oriel wandered around the room, glancing briefly at the ebony-framed prints which were similar to the ones at home, then peering at the ornaments on the mantel: Staffordshire greyhounds, a benign looking tiger, a porcelain terrier, not one of them depicting human life. She wandered on, noting the heavy tomes on the bookcase which were far too demanding for her tastes. Talbot hopped after her, sniffing at her skirts. She flicked at his nose. ‘Go away!’ To her amazement he did as he was told, leaving her to ponder on the man in the hall. When he returned she would ask him outright why he had chosen her by name. Turning from the picture of a stag at bay she gave a covert glance through the doorway, catching his profile as he spoke into the telephone. There was about him a familiarity. Yes, she had seen him several times in Fulford, but the aura of familiarity was much greater than one would normally expect from a passing stranger. She wandered over to a mirror and primped her hair, still puzzling. She thought of Noel. She thought of her mother. Perhaps he was a friend of – and then she knew! The revelation was so violent that it almost caused her to run from the house. What had made her guess she could not say, maybe it was the reflection of her own eyes that had sparked the truth, but when she span away from the mirror as though burned she knew that the man in the hall was her father.

  He was still talking, but from the tone of his voice was attempting to get rid of the caller. Could Oriel sneak past him and escape into the street before he noticed? Shoulders tensed, she began to edge towards the door. The dog, sensing danger, rose with a growl. Oriel stopped dead. The man, her father, had looked over his shoulder and seen the panic on her face.

  ‘I’ll speak to you tonight, Violet!’ With this Nat put down the receiver and marched back into the room. ‘Talbot, behave yourself! Sorry if he frightened you,’ he said to a trembling Oriel. ‘He’s not usually this grumpy. I’ll shut him out.’ The dog was ejected and the door closed, so preventing her escape.

  Oriel cleared her throat, hoping that he would remain convinced that it was only the dog who had scared her. ‘It’s quite all right. I think I made him jump.’ She hoped her words were not slurred; her tongue felt like a huge wad of cottonwool. ‘How did he lose his leg by the way?’ By-the-way, by-the-way, this is my father.

  ‘I don’t know, he was in a terrible state when I found him. He’s the only family I have – but I’ll get rid of him if he frightens you,’ Nat added hastily.

  ‘No, no, don’t do that! I’m sure he’ll get used to me.’ Oriel had no intention of ever coming back here but would say anything in order to escape. Why on earth did he continue this subterfuge? He knew that she was his daughter, he had asked for her by name. Why had he lured her here when he must guess how unpopular he was for deserting her? She felt a pang of disgust – the only family I have, he had said! How could he lavish attention on a dog and neglect his own daughter?

  ‘So you’ll come to work for me?’ At her nod he beamed. ‘Oh good! That’s good.’ You’re too gushing, he warned himself. Start behaving like an employer. He brought his hands together. ‘Er, well, Miss Maguire, we’d better discuss wages. Would two pounds a week suit?’ Receiving Oriel’s hasty reply that this was most generous, he ended with, ‘Can you start on Monday morning?’

  Much relieved to be shown the door Oriel said she could, and moved as casually as her nerves would permit into the hall. The front door was opened and she tripped outside into safety.

  ‘Just a minute!’

  Oriel almost wet herself. Forcing herself not to run, she turned.

  ‘You’re forgetting your hat.’ Nat handed it to her.

  From somewhere she conjured a laugh and, thanking him, took her leave. Immediately she was out of his view, though, she ran full pelt down the Georgian street as if the devil himself were after her, until she was out of his grasp. Coming to a halt, she held her aching stomach and panted, recalling every expression, every movement of his face, his eyes, his nose, his mouth, his hair, comparing him to the image of the frightened, maltreated youth her mother had always painted. Mother – what was Oriel going to tell her? She certainly couldn’t tell her the truth, Bright would be much too upset. And what part had Noel played in this? She would have words for him when next they met. The sound of a barrel organ pierced her introspection. She lifted her eyes and, breath coming a fraction easier, she set off in the direction of home. The organ grinder’s monkey held up his hand for a coin as she passed. Oriel spared only a glance for the pathetic animal, too busy concocting an excuse for her mother as to why she had decided not to go and work for Mr Price. Mr Price – hah, the swine! The one who, by his abandonment had destroyed her hopes of becoming a nurse, the one she had sworn to destroy… her step faltered. Yes, she had, hadn’t she? Remember how angry and hurt you were at being rejected like some leper just because you had no father? Remember how your mother endured years of servitude at the hands of a bully because she knew that no one else would employ an unmarried mother? All those years when Bright would have loved to play with her child but had no time because she had no husband to support her. And now here was Oriel’s chance of retribution, delivered by the culprit himself.

  When she arrived home the shock she had received was nowhere in evidence. She smiled gaily when her mother enquired as to the character of the man who had interviewed her.

  ‘He’s very nice indeed! An elderly gentleman, very frail, very kind. You have absolutely nothing to worry about, Mother. Yes, he has a wife! I start work on Monday morning.’ And God help him, came the grim thought.

  * * *

  Urged on by a combination of mischief and curiosity, Oriel set off for work on Monday morning. Over the weekend she had managed to unravel some of the mystery: Noel had informed the man, her father, that she and her mother were about to be thrown out onto the street. She hadn’t asked the doctor for confirmation and neither would she, for that would give the game away before she had the chance to play her part, but Oriel knew it to be true. Out of belated feelings of guilt for his abandonment of them her father had sought to offer charity in the form of employment. Just why he had chosen to do it anonymously escaped her at present, but she guessed that he was probably too ashamed to introduce himself.

  The tram that carried her past the army barracks and into town was crammed with munitions girls and women in uniform. Placards greeted her disembarkation, announcing the latest horrors of the war: Diabolical New Weapon: Allies Hit by Poison Gas. Oriel cringed, but there was too much on her mind this morning to worry over unknown victims. During the journey between the tram stop and her father’s house, she pondered on how she might ruin his life as he had ruined hers. With access to all his accounts she might discover some crooked deal or income tax evasion. For the present, though, she must gain his trust, must allow him to believe that she had no idea who he was.

  Nat’s face lit up as he opened the door to her. How pathetic, thought Oriel as she preceded
him to the front drawing room. She, who was normally quick to tears over another’s pain or injustice, spared not one iota of compassion for this man, the cause of all her ills. ‘And how are you this morning, Mr Price?’

  Nat had been doing a lot of thinking too over the weekend, and had reached a decision to come clean about his name. For one thing it would be impossible to keep up the pretence with Oriel handling his affairs, and for another he was not even sure that she knew the identity of her father. Noel had never mentioned that fact. There was always the risk that she would reveal his name to her mother, but it was one he had decided to take. ‘Actually,’ you sound like Noel, he mocked himself, ‘my name is Prince, not Price.’ He looked into her blue eyes for a flash of recognition. There was nothing.

  ‘Oh really?’ Oriel showed mild surprise. ‘I was told…’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid that was my fault,’ cut in Nat. ‘The headmaster kept getting my name wrong so in the end I decided to let him call me Price.’ He laughed.

  So too did Oriel. He must think I’m stupid! Does he imagine that by revealing his name I’ll fling my arms around his neck and call him Father? Or is this just a test to see if I know who he is, so that he can continue to cheat and lie? ‘Oh well, shall we get on, Mr Prince? What would you like me to do first?’

  Nat felt both relief and disappointment: relief that he would continue to have his daughter in his house, disappointment that she had no idea that he was her father. Don’t be greedy, he told himself, you’ve got her here, just be satisfied. ‘Well, there’s those books that I showed you last week.’ He indicated the ledgers. ‘It’s just a case of daily, weekly and monthly accounts, both for the scrapyard and the shop.’

  ‘You have a shop too?’

  ‘Just a little place that sells second-hand clothes. I used to run it—’ he had been going to say meself but felt that she, with her own nicely formed accent, might look down on him, ‘—myself, but I found I was overstretched so I pay a woman to do it now. That’s something else I’d like you to attend to, the wages.’