by Nancy Carson
He visited Lloyds Banking Company in Dudley to discuss the possibility of a business loan. Things were never straightforward, however; nothing was ever simple.
‘The economy, internationally and domestically, is stagnant, Mr Stokes,’ the bank’s manager said. ‘Consequently, we are loath to lend money willy-nilly. There is much unemployment and unrest, at home and abroad. America is in the grip of a depression and Argentina is defaulting on massive loans.’
‘I don’t see why that should affect me,’ Algie said. ‘I’m a good risk with a growing business.’
‘In which case, we might consider offering you a loan. But have you thought things through, Mr Stokes? What is the true purpose of the loan you are requesting? Do you need money to help with just a move, or would you prefer to go the whole hog and have a mortgage to actually purchase factory premises? You might be better off buying premises if the bank deems you a suitable candidate for a mortgage.’
Buying a building had not entered Algie’s head, however, and the thought daunted him. He was a novice in business, not an industrial magnate. If he chose to opt for a mortgage, he would have to provide some evidence that the business would be able to afford to pay it back. He would have to offer the house as security that he, Marigold, his mother and little Rose lived in. Well, he would have to talk to them about that, because it was his mother who technically owned the house.
It all seemed too much for Algie to take on – far too much of a risk – and far too bothersome. Maybe he should simply rent.
Marigold, however, thought otherwise.
‘Just think, Algie,’ she said pensively as they were drinking tea in the sitting room after having finished their evening meal, ‘you wouldn’t be at the mercy of some jumped-up landlord like Clarence Froggatt, who wanted to evict you. If you owned the building and the land, nobody could touch you.’
‘She’s right, you know,’ Clara chimed in, peering over her spectacles as she looked up from her knitting. ‘Not only that, you might as well pay off a mortgage as pay rent, as I see it. At least you’d eventually own the place, so it’s like putting money back into your own pocket. Whereas by paying rent, all you’m doing is lining somebody else’s pockets, yet the building’s never yourn.’
‘I hadn’t thought of it like that,’ Algie replied, surprised at receiving such astute advice from two housebound women.
‘You’d have to work out whether the business can make enough to cover it,’ Marigold declared, sounding like a seasoned businesswoman. ‘You’d have to work out how many bikes you need to make to cover your costs.’
‘And the wages,’ Algie said.
‘Well, wages are just a part of the costs, ain’t they?’
He was flabbergasted. Marigold’s grasp of business was incredible. ‘How come you know all this stuff?’ he asked.
‘It’s common sense,’ she replied, pleased that she’d impressed him. ‘Me dad always used to work out what he would get for shipping a load from one place to another. Then he’d take away what it would cost him in fodder, stabling and smithying for the horse, as well as food for us lot, tolls for the locks, what he’d have to put by for wear and tear as he called it on the narrowboats. All that malarkey. What he had left was profit. As long as he made a bit of profit he was happy.’
‘Blimey,’ Algie muttered.
‘You’ll have to work out the same sort o’ thing, Algie, but for Ranger Cycles. Write it all down and show it this gaffer at the bank.’
‘If you’ll help me.’
‘Course I’ll help you, if I can.’
‘It’s all down to you, Mother,’ he said, looking at Clara. ‘This house is yours. It depends whether you’re prepared to risk it as security for a loan.’
‘The house is yourn if you want it, our Algie. I got nobody else to leave it to. I mean, it ain’t as if our Kate’s ever likely to come back, and even if she did, I’d have no truck with her. No, I’ve disowned our Kate. The house is yourn, my son. I’m happy to sign it over to you.’
‘Thank you, Mother,’ he sighed, and stood up so as to go to her and give her a kiss. ‘I’ll call at the bank tomorrow, and ask the gaffer there what needs to be done. One thing’s for certain, though,’ he said, sitting down again, ‘if we got more space we could employ more men and make more bikes. As it is, we can’t make ’em fast enough. We could do with a new welding machine, a painting booth and stoving oven as well. That’d give the bikes a much better finish.’
‘So all you gotta do first is find somewhere suitable that’s for sale,’ Marigold remarked.
‘And that might be easier said than done, my flower.’
‘I bet Clarence Froggatt would build you a factory.’
‘Sod Clarence Froggatt,’ Algie answered indignantly.
Marigold chuckled. ‘I was only pulling your leg, Algie.’
‘But he’d love that, wouldn’t he? Anyway, I ain’t got time to wait for a building to go up. I’m gonna need to find somewhere right away that’s vacant.’
* * *
The Brierley Hill Amateur Dramatics Society had suspended its activities following the sudden departure, and later the demise, of Murdoch Osborne, its guiding light and mentor. Nevertheless, it had re-formed, calling itself The Brierley Hill Players. Some of the previous members had dropped out, for fear of being tainted by Murdoch’s shenanigans and damaged reputation, in particular Priss and Harriet Meese (as she was then), and Clarence Froggatt. Those who still wished to be associated with the Society had introduced enthusiastic new members and they had all worked hard to re-establish its status, its credibility and its viability. The upshot was the performance of its first production, in the middle of February. The play was a comedy called A Duchess for the Duke, and Miss Katie Richards was playing the title role. Her re-emergence as the leading lady she welcomed, having been previously sidelined when the more glamorous Kate Stokes had appeared, whom Murdoch favoured with plum parts. The leading man was none other than Robert Sankey, who had been best man at Clarence Froggatt’s wedding to Harriet Meese.
The play went down well, and Miss Katie Richards received her due applause with broad smiles of relief at the audience’s obvious appreciation. When the final curtain swept across the stage, Algie stood up and offered his hand to help Marigold to her feet. She was heavily pregnant by this time and her movements were no longer effortless.
‘I’ll have to go for a pee before we go,’ she said, offering her cape and her brolly for Algie to hold meanwhile.
‘So will I,’ he replied. ‘So it’s no good giving me these. I might drop ’em.’
‘Heaven forbid,’ she smiled, accepting the refusal unconcernedly. ‘I’ll see you by the main door in the lobby then,’ she added, glancing up at the balcony where people were making their way downstairs. She and Algie joined the throng of people slowly shuffling towards the back of the hall and the exit, amid a mass of wide skirts and nodding hats.
As Marigold approached the door to the ladies’ WCs a queue had formed, and already waiting in front of her were Harriet Froggatt and Priss Meese. Priss turned her head and, when she spotted Marigold, she nudged Harriet prompting her to turn as well. Harriet was wearing an expensive-looking coat in black with a huge fur collar.
‘Oh, Marigold,’ Harriet greeted with a look of genuine surprise. ‘I didn’t know you were here this evening. How are you?’
‘As you can see, a bit on the big side for now.’ Marigold held her cape away from her belly showing the proof, and smiled to convey that she was perfectly happy to see them.
‘But you look so well,’ Priss chimed in amiably.
‘Thanks, I do feel well.’
‘And when is the baby due?’
‘Oh, another month, at most.’ She shrugged. ‘You can never be that sure, can you? Not to a week at any rate.’
‘Our Harriet’s joined the club, you know, Marigold. Haven’t you, Harriet?’ Priss patted Harriet’s belly caringly.
‘Already?’ Marigold replied, looking at
Harriet with pleasure.
‘Well, Clarence was eager to start a family.’ She laughed, indicating acquiescence of her condition. ‘I’m starting to show now.’
The queue moved forward a few steps as more women squeezed past in the opposite direction.
‘I hope it all goes well for you, Harriet.’
‘Thank you, so do I.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I hope it does for you too. Anyway, how’s Algie?’
‘He’s well, thanks. Very busy, though. What with one thing and another…’ She was referring obliquely to the tribulations of the divorce and all it entailed, wondering if the Meese girls would have the gall to mention it. ‘He’s had to find new premises for making his bikes as well, as I daresay you know.’
‘Oh, Clarence mentioned something about that, I think,’ Harriet offered evasively. ‘And has he? Found new premises?’
‘Oh yes. To tell you the truth, I think it’s done him a favour, having to move. He’s found a much bigger place and decided to buy it. Then, at least he won’t be at the mercy of any landlord’s whims and fancies, will he?’ There, she thought, wriggle out of that.
‘As I understand it,’ Harriet responded defensively, picking up the inference, ‘Clarence wants to develop the site Algie’s factory was on by building new ones for rent.’
‘Oh, and I’m sure he’ll do very well,’ Marigold replied, showing no rancour. ‘And, as I say, it’s done us a big favour.’
‘I’m so glad it’s all working out well.’
‘Oh, everything’s working out beautifully,’ she confirmed with a nod of her head. ‘Everything.’
Harriet and Priss flashed each other a brief glance then smiled their encouragement to Marigold, with their best wishes.
They were at the door by this time and they squeezed through. Inside, women were shuffling about and you could hear the sound of a chain being pulled, a cistern emptying and refilling, the sliding of a bolt, the banging of a door and the cackle of comments.
‘There you go, Marigold,’ Priss said. ‘There’s one free. Please go before us. It’s been so nice to see you.’
‘If you’re sure, thank you.’
It was when she had left the ladies’ WCs and was on her way to meet Algie that she received a tap on her shoulder. When she looked round, the handsome face of Robert Sankey greeted her.
‘It’s Marigold, is it not?’
Marigold beamed and her heart fluttered. ‘Robert. How nice of you to say hello. I really enjoyed the play. I thought you were ever so good.’
‘Delighted you think so.’ He looked at her admiringly. ‘I don’t suppose it’s changed your mind about joining us, has it?’
‘In my condition?’ she said, looking down at her belly, which she was trying to cover till that moment by holding her cape in front of her. ‘But I had no objection. If you remember, it was my husband who didn’t want me to join.’
‘I remember. But maybe when you’ve had your baby, you might persuade him to change his mind?’
‘Who knows? But I doubt it – I expect I’ll be too busy. Still, there must be lots of other girls – better looking than me – who’d be willing to have a go.’
‘Well, actually, Marigold, I don’t recall having met a better-looking girl than you.’
She felt herself blushing. ‘Oh, what flannel, Robert,’ she remarked dismissively, lowering her lids appealingly, her smile proclaiming she was delighted he’d said as much. ‘Lord knows what I look like with this lump.’
‘The lump is only temporary, though. Once shed, you’ll regain your delightful figure.’
‘I can but hope,’ she replied brightly.
‘Then, try and get your husband to change his mind, will you? We rehearse every Thursday evening at the Drill Hall, seven till ten. Do try and come along. We have a wonderful programme coming up.’
‘I’ll see what I can do. Really, I will.’
‘I do hope you will. I would love to see you there. You’d brighten us up no end. Such looks as yours should never be confined to a house. You should decorate the world.’
Still blushing, she glanced around for sight of Algie; he must surely be waiting for her by this time. ‘I must go, Robert,’ she said reluctantly, for she was enjoying his compliments. ‘Algie will be waiting for me by the main door.’
He nodded. ‘Don’t forget now. Do try and make it. Goodbye for now.’
She bid him goodnight.
Algie, meanwhile, had returned to the lobby to await Marigold. Lots of people were milling about, some standing in groups, chatting while unwittingly obstructing the passage of other people. Facing him and leaning against a wall he spotted Clarence Froggatt, obviously waiting for Harriet. He decided to ignore him, to pretend he hadn’t seen him; he would not be able to hold back what he thought, and no good could come of a confrontation. So he turned his back on Clarence, to face in the direction of the auditorium and Marigold’s imminent reappearance.
Within seconds he sensed someone at his side.
‘Hello, Stokes.’
Oh no. Him. Why couldn’t he leave him be? Algie turned to Clarence with a look of scorn. ‘Oh, it’s you.’
‘Just thought I’d say hello. Just thought I’d pay my respects.’
‘You needn’t have bothered.’
‘Waiting for Marigold, I trust? How is she, by the way?’
‘She’s eight months pregnant,’ Algie retorted, drawn reluctantly into a conversation he had not sought. ‘What’s it to you?’
‘Just trying to be sociable, Algie. Just trying to be sociable.’
‘Well, save your breath. I’ve got nothing to say to you – nothing that’s particularly polite, at any rate.’
‘Aw…look here, Algie, if you’re sore about that notice to quit, please try and understand that it was a business decision. There was no malice aforethought.’
‘Hogwash. Even if you believe your own cant, I don’t.’
‘Well, anyway, how’s Aurelia? Or shouldn’t I ask?’
‘How should I know? I haven’t seen her lately.’
‘Oh, dear me, Algie…Even if you believe your own cant, I don’t,’ Clarence said, throwing the jibe back in Algie’s face. ‘I understand from the papers that you attended the divorce proceedings with her. She’s practically a free woman now. How long before the decree absolute? Still straining at the bit, are you?’
The provocation was too much for Algie, and too personal. Only he knew what emotional turmoil he’d been through over Aurelia, his part in her divorce and the inevitable strain it had put on his marriage and on Marigold. Only he knew how it had tugged at his heartstrings, how he’d agonised over divided loyalties. It was gone now and he did not want it back, nor was he about to share it with Clarence Froggatt. He bitterly resented Clarence’s implications and it was time Clarence learned the lesson.
He turned and grabbed Clarence by his necktie, then thrust his face close to his, gritting his teeth. ‘What I do, what I have done, or what I might do in the future, has got sod all to do with you,’ he snarled. ‘So stop trying to be a bloody clever Dick. Stop trying to make trouble, because you’ll only be making trouble for yourself. Understand?’ Algie let go and shoved him away.
Others had noticed the angry exchange, and curiosity had made them stop to look and listen. One or two men stepped forward ready to part them if it developed into a tussle. ‘If you two have to fight, have the grace to do it outside,’ one exclaimed. Clarence craned his neck, straightened his collar and necktie, looking angry that Algie Stokes had belittled him in front of these bystanders, when he was on the cusp of being recognised as a pillar of local society. His pride was intensely hurt.
Just then, Marigold appeared, fastening her gloves, her brolly and cape under her arm. Her glowing expression, elicited by Robert Sankey, turned to one of horror when she saw the two men baiting each other with angry looks. Something was amiss. She walked directly to Algie and took his arm to lead him away, which he allowed.
‘What’s up?’ she a
sked.
‘Him,’ Algie snapped. As they made their exit, he looked over his shoulder and glanced contemptuously at his adversary. ‘Just because he’s come into a fortune doesn’t give him the right to poke his nose where it ain’t wanted.’
‘What did he say? I can see he’s riled you.’
‘Riled me? I could kill him.’
It was raining outside so Marigold opened her umbrella. He took it and held it over her while she put on her cape.
‘So what did he say to you?’ she asked as she buttoned it up.
‘Never mind what he said. It’s his damned arrogance.’
‘Funny, but I was just talking to Harriet and Priss,’ she went on, as they crossed the street. ‘They were as nice as pie. I told ’em how well you’m doing and how you’m buying a new factory building so’s you won’t have to put up with the whims and fancies of landlords.’
‘If only it was that simple,’ he replied.
‘Well, it’s part true. At least you got the mortgage.’
‘I’ve put us all in hock for a long time by taking it on, my flower. Nor did I get it without a bit of conniving. If we can’t pay it back the bank will have our house off us.’
‘Well, I think those two in there got the message all right. Anyway, they wished you well.’
‘Pity Clarence was not so sincere.’
‘But why is the bank so stingy when it comes to lending money? Why so many ifs and buts? Why our house as security? Isn’t that what the banks are there for, to lend money?’
‘Yes, but there’s a bigger problem than just Ranger Cycles,’ he said, sidestepping a puddle. ‘The whole world’s in a financial crisis.’
‘But why should that affect us, Algie?’
‘That’s what I asked the bank manager. But it affects everybody,’ he began and passed on what the man had explained to him.
‘I see,’ Marigold declared. ‘But how come I didn’t know anything of this?’
‘Well, you don’t read the papers.’
‘I s’pose I don’t…’ She remained unspeaking for a while, mulling over what Algie had explained, lifting her dress at the puddles to save splashing the hem. ‘I bumped into that Robert Sankey just after I’d been for a pee,’ she admitted eventually.
