‘Bea – are you OK? What’s happened?’
Bea bit back tears. ‘We’re in real trouble …’
‘Who is?’
‘The bookstore. Me and Russ. We’ve been the victims of fraud and now we’re being investigated by the IRS.’ She paused as the lump of emotion almost choked her voice. ‘I’ve spent all morning trying to find an accountant to help us. But nobody will. The moment I mention the investigation they hang up. I’m no good at accounts and I’ve never handled them for the bookstore. Now I’m beside myself with worry and – and I’m so sorry to ask you when I know how busy you are …’
‘Bea, take a breath! I’m glad you called. Give me all the details you have and I’ll make a call, OK? We have an accountant my father has used for over thirty years. I’m sure he’ll be able to help.’
Bea felt awful for dragging Jake into her business problems, not least because this was their first conversation in nearly three weeks. But the soothing calm of his voice set a tiny spark of hope burning within her; barely perceptible, but still there.
Ten minutes later, she emerged from the office. Russ was serving a line of customers and Bea joined him, refusing to make eye contact until every one had been served. When the store was empty, Russ turned to her.
‘Come on, you’re killing me. What’s happening?’
‘I spent all morning doing what you should have done when you found out what Frank had done. And nobody wanted to help us. I called fifteen firms and all of them declined to get involved.’
‘So what do we do now?’
‘I asked a friend and they’ve persuaded their company accountant to help us.’
‘Which friend?’
Bea was too angry to tell Russ about Jake’s help. ‘It doesn’t matter. I spoke to the accountant and he’s coming here on Friday to go through everything with us. But because time isn’t on our side, we need to get as much as we can in order before he arrives. He charges double what Frank did, so I don’t want to pay for any time we don’t have to. As it is it will probably wipe out most of the profits we’ve made this quarter, if not half the year.’
‘I’m so sorry, Bea. We’ll sort this tonight, I promise.’
‘We’d better. Or else everything we’ve worked for will be on the line.’
Weary from everything that had happened that morning, Bea left Russ in charge and headed to Imelda’s store. Russ didn’t attempt to argue. As she walked through the October chill, gold and red leaves blowing down 8th Avenue, Bea wished she hadn’t got out of bed this morning. She had been thinking for days of calling Jake, missing his presence in her week acutely, and while it was wonderful to hear his voice this morning, she was dismayed that the first he had heard from her was an overly emotional plea for help. So much for presenting the best version of herself. Would he think her needy, or – worse – using her predicament as an excuse to speak to him, when he had made it clear how busy he was?
Imelda flew into action as soon as she saw Bea’s pale expression, ushering her to a table by the window and insisting she drink two large cups of coffee. ‘You look like death. What happened?’
As her friend tried to persuade her to eat a huge slice of homemade key lime pie, Bea recounted the morning’s events, ending with her embarrassment for contacting Jake. ‘I don’t know why I phoned him. I’d dialled his number before I thought better of it.’
‘You were scared and you needed a friend. Jake is a business owner, the same as you. He was well placed to advise you. Makes perfect sense to me.’
‘But I haven’t heard from him in weeks. Why did I think it was a good idea to get him involved in our problems?’
Imelda smiled. ‘Because you trust him. And, deep down, I think you knew he could help. Quit beating yourself up over this, Bea: it won’t achieve anything. You asked for his help: he gave it. I don’t see the problem.’
‘Russ is such a moron. I can’t believe he hid this from me when we could have been dealing with it.’
‘He wanted to be “the man”. You know Russ: his pride is legendary. My guess is he thought he could handle it.’
‘Well, he couldn’t.’ Bea looked at her friend, tears in her eyes again. ‘We can’t lose our business, Immi! It’s all we know; all we’ve worked for. Without it, what would we do?’
‘It won’t come to that, honey. I know you’re scared, but you’ve found out in time to put the problems right. Any idea what you can do about Frank?’
Bea hadn’t even considered this in the craziness of the morning. ‘We should sue him, but it’s hard to serve papers on someone who doesn’t want to be found. I’ll report it to the police once we’ve dealt with the IRS. That has to be our priority.’ She dropped her head into her hands, wishing that she could make it all go away. ‘I thought this year was going so well, but now—’
‘But now you’ve had a setback. And you’ll overcome it, just like you did when you and Otis split. Don’t be too hard on Russ, either. He was just scared, like you are now. The best way to handle this is together: be united. Even if you think he doesn’t deserve it. You guys don’t need any more stress than you already have.’
Bea thought about this as she walked slowly back to Hudson River Books. She was still angry with Russ, but Imelda was right: if he felt even a fraction of the fear she had been accosted by, his actions were understandable if not wise. When she arrived back, he hurried over to her.
‘How are you? Please don’t let this change how you see me. I know I screwed up, Bea, believe me I do. But I did it to protect you, crazy as it sounds. I thought I could handle it.’
‘It’s OK,’ Bea replied. ‘Give me a hug and shut up.’
Surprised, Russ wrapped his arms around her and Bea could hear the rapid beating of his heart against her ear as they embraced. She didn’t want to fight with him any longer. Their fight was with a much bigger foe and for that they had to work together, as Imelda had said. The important thing now was for them to do what they could to salvage the accounts before Jake’s accountant arrived.
‘I have something that will make you happy,’ Russ said, taking Bea’s hand and leading her to the counter at the back of the store. Reaching behind it, he produced a brown paper package, populated with Book Mice dressed as World War Two army officers. ‘It came when you were out.’
Bea took it, grateful for the lift in her spirits it caused. ‘Mind if I open it now? If it gets busy give me a shout.’
‘Go. Enjoy.’
In the office, Bea tore open the paper, revealing a book of Wilfred Owen’s poetry and several sheets of notepaper covered in Grandma Dot’s familiar handwriting. The yellow bookmark marked a page where a solitary Book Mouse dressed as a British soldier saluted three lines of Anthem for Doomed Youth:
The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall,
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each, slow dusk a drawing down of blinds.
Bea opened the letter and began to read.
Dearest Bea,
By now I think you may have guessed what happened to end my dreams with Abel. Even now it feels so unfair. But it is what it is, and I can’t be disappointed by my life since.
In the spring of 1940 Abel broke the news I never thought I’d have to hear. He took me to the flower meadow at the southernmost edge of his family’s farm, where bluebells and primroses clung to the banks of a stream. It was our favourite place: whenever I think of Abel now I always picture him there. He took both my hands and I could feel he was shaking. He said he had something to tell me, but that I wasn’t to worry or get upset. It was something he had thought long and hard about. He was convinced it was the right decision.
Then he told me he had volunteered for the British Army.
I couldn’t believe it. He, out of so many of his friends who didn’t have the luxury, had been given permission by the Government not to go to war. Churchill himself had proclaimed the importance of the reserved occupations for maintaining Britain’s greatness in th
is dark hour for our nation. I pleaded with him to reconsider, to serve his country by feeding those of us left behind to defend our land.
It fell on deaf ears: Abel Flanagan was a single-minded, stubborn man with a strong sense of honour and pride. He wanted to go to war, he told me. He wanted to fight for Britain’s honour, for the cause of good. Nothing I could say was going to change his mind.
I asked him to think about the plans we had made: the home we would make in one of the cottages on his father’s land; the children we would have; the life we would share together. And then, I said something I have regretted for seventy-three years: I asked him to choose.
I had no right to do that. I had no right to force a decision upon him when he had already signed up to fight. But I was hurt and furious that he could have made such a decision without me. I felt what we had was worth more than giving his life for his country. I was scared, of course. But it was still the worst thing I could have said.
We parted on bad terms, Abel refusing to see me for a whole week until, at my wits’ end, I confessed all to my father and he marched me to Abel’s farm to demand an audience. I begged for Abel’s forgiveness and, eventually, he gave in. But two days later, as I waved him off at the station, I could tell from the way he looked at me that something had fundamentally changed in how he saw me. I will never forget the expression on his face as the train pulled him away from my life. I am still haunted by it today.
Six months later, his mother came to our house in tears. And I knew, before she even spoke. Half of Abel’s battalion had been slaughtered trying to defend an outpost in France. He was one of the dead. She gave me a letter, found on his body and returned by his commanding officer. It said:
Dorothy, my love
Nothing you could have said would have stopped me doing what I did. But I love you dearly and I know why you asked me to choose. When the war is over, I pray we will be able to make all of our dreams come true. But if I don’t return, know this: that you were loved beyond death.
Yours forever
Abel x
I lost my chance, Bea, not because of my actions but because life intervened to change the rules.
But here is the important thing: I thought my life was over then, but I was wrong. For eight years I refused to consider the advances of anyone else. I thought I didn’t deserve to be happy. But life had other ideas.
I found my salvation in a handsome chap called George. You may remember him! He tried for a year to persuade me to go out with him and one night I confessed to him about Abel and the awful decision I had made. I expected this to make him run for the hills, but instead he listened to me and never once judged. Your wonderful grandpa was gentle and patient, coaxing my heart back into life. The love I found with him was more profound, more precious, than anything I had known before. And still, he kept my secret about Abel until he died. What mattered, he used to say, was that he loved me and I loved him. What had passed before was in the past. And he was right.
Don’t you see, Bea dear? You owe your very existence to life’s endless possibilities!
Don’t give up hope with anything. And never say ‘never’ to the possibility of love.
Fondest love, my darling,
Grandma Dot xxx
It broke Bea’s heart to think of her grandparents carrying this secret for years; but she was touched again by Grandma Dot’s decision to tell her Abel’s story. She wasn’t ready to consider a relationship yet, but perhaps ruling it out for the rest of her life was wrong …
When the last customer had left the bookstore, Bea locked the door and took a deep breath. She would have loved to go home and collapse after the emotional day she had experienced, but there was work to do. And lots of it.
Russ laid out the purchase and sales ledgers, boxes of invoices and piles of receipts on the floor in the middle of the children’s section and pulled up two beanbags. Bea joined him and together they stared at the task ahead of them.
‘Where do we start?’ Russ asked.
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘It looks bad when it’s all together like that.’
‘It looks bad any way you look at it.’
Russ groaned. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s OK. The main thing is that you’re here right now and we’re going to work through this together.’ Steeling herself for the task, she rubbed her hands together. ‘Right. Why don’t you go through the outstanding invoices and I’ll try to make sense of the account books and receipts?’
They worked solidly for an hour, slowly piecing together the disparate pieces of financial information left by the untrustworthy accountant. When the pizza Russ had ordered arrived, they took a break, Russ producing two bottles of beer from his rucksack. Bea could see some progress being made and her friend’s determination to get the work done made her look more kindly on his actions. To give Russ his due, his only crime had been to put his head in the sand with the situation rather than telling her about it. The real culprit was the guy who by now was probably soaking up the sun in a tax haven, paid for with their hard-earned cash.
‘Thanks for helping,’ she said.
Russ smiled. ‘I had to. I blame myself for not having the nerve to talk to you about it.’
‘You should have. We’ve always talked about everything, Russ. I don’t understand why you didn’t think you could tell me what had happened.’
Dropping his head, Russ stared at the floor. ‘I care what you think of me. And I didn’t want to let you down.’
‘Well, from now on just tell me if there’s something I should know, OK?’
Russ lifted his head, a strange expression on his face. ‘I will. Talking of which, have you moved on any further with that situation you mentioned?’
It took Bea a little time to work out what Russ was referring to. Then, remembering her tearful phone conversation with Jake that morning, she shook her head. ‘No. Not really.’ That was an understatement. After her emotional contact with him today he was probably thanking his lucky stars that he’d made The Pact. Neediness was not attractive in anyone, least of all in a potential partner.
‘But you like the guy?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘So why not tell him?’
‘Because it’s not that simple,’ Bea replied. Especially after today.
Russ snorted. ‘Sounds to me like you’re scared.’
‘I am not.’
‘I think you are. It’s obvious you like this guy. Why not let him know?’
There was no way Russ could understand from the vague information Bea had given him about Jake. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘I get it. You don’t want to lose him as a friend.’
‘No, but …’
Russ reached for the last slice of pizza, moving closer to Bea. ‘You won’t.’
Bea stared at him. ‘How do you know that? Relationships can change everything.’
‘They don’t have to. Face it, Bea, you’ve known what you really want for a long time now. Don’t you think it’s time to ditch the excuses?’
It was late and the last thing Bea wanted was to have this conversation now. ‘Russ, I know what you’re trying to do …’
‘Then don’t fight it,’ he smiled, reaching out to gently touch Bea’s cheek. His face was close to hers, his breath brushing her skin.
‘What are you—?’
Before Bea could finish, Russ was kissing her, toppling them both to the floor. Horrified, Bea struggled to break free, kicking his leg hard and pushing him away from her as he yelped in pain. She jumped to her feet and glared at him. ‘What the hell was that?’
Sprawled on the floor, face flushed and eyes wide, Russ stared at her. ‘That was what you’ve been asking me to do for months …’
‘No it wasn’t!’
‘Don’t say that! All our heart-to-hearts, all your thinly veiled references to the guy who was a good friend: you were talking about me. It’s been there between us for years.’
‘W
e kissed once for real, that’s all! And we agreed then it was a mistake. Whatever made you think I wanted you in that way now?’
‘The chemistry! It’s always been there, Bea, you can’t deny it.’
Bea couldn’t believe what she was hearing. When she’d thought Russ was being a listening ear for her dilemma with Jake, he was thinking she was subliminally inviting him to declare his feelings for her. How had she not seen what was happening?
‘I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. But you’re not the guy I’ve been talking about.’
Scrambling to his feet, Russ dusted himself down. ‘Thanks for the gentle let-down, Bea.’
‘Oh come on! You can’t be angry with me for your mistake,’ she shot back.
‘Yes, actually, I can. You must have known how I felt about you, Bea! Why do you think my relationships never work out? Because every day I come to work you’re there! And you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. Always have been. Since that first kiss at Columbia.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I thought you knew … And when you started telling me about the guy whose friendship you didn’t want to lose – and wouldn’t tell me his name – what was I supposed to think other than you had changed your mind and were falling for me?’
Shocked by his confession, Bea couldn’t answer. Instead, she gathered up the account files and walked quickly to the office. She couldn’t stay here tonight: the accounts would have to wait until the morning. Perhaps in the cold light of day she and Russ could discuss this rationally. For now it was just too – weird …
‘Bea, I’m sorry.’ Russ was leaning in the doorway. ‘I scared you and I didn’t mean to do that.’
‘Can we just – not talk about this, now?’
‘Don’t leave.’
Bea couldn’t look at him. ‘I think it’s best if I do.’
‘Then at least tell me one thing: who’s the guy?’
Bea frantically boxed the piles of invoices, her need to get away taking over. ‘I have to get home.’
‘Please, Bea. You owe me that much …’
‘I don’t owe you anything.’
‘At least tell me who managed to get to you instead of me. I’d like to shake his hand. He must be pretty awesome for you to prefer him over the guy who has loved you for fifteen years.’
I'll Take New York Page 24
