Bel Lamington

by D. E. Stevenson

  “Pleased?”

  “Pleased to see his great grandson—another James Copping. He’s pleased that you’re coming into the firm.”

  Mr. James was still looking up at the portrait. He said, “I’ll do my best.”

  Bel had a feeling that this was a promise—but not to her, of course.

  There was silence for a minute or two and then Mr. James came back to earth.

  “We’d better get on with the burgling, Miss Lamington,” he said.

  The safe was in the corner of the room behind a book-case and was opened easily enough with the keys. The door swung back and revealed a recess with shelves packed with bundles of papers tied with tape, deed boxes, jewel cases and large manilla envelopes all covered thick in dust.

  “Lordy!” said Mr. James in awe.

  The sight was definitely awe-inspiring, it was also somewhat alarming. Bel had taken no part in the “burgling”, she had merely stood by and provided a little moral support, but now she began to wonder whether active co-operation would be required of her, for if Mr. James was proposing to search in that cupboard for papers he would need an assistant with cleaning materials—at the very least an assistant with a damp duster, thought Bel.

  “Do you know what you want and where to find it?” she enquired.

  Mr. James sneezed violently several times. “Dust,” he explained. “I get hay-fever, you know. Yes, the Guv’nor told me. It’s a big yellow envelope with an elastic band. It’s got Copping Wills and Brownlee Contracts written on it in red ink. It’s on the top shelf on the right hand side.”

  With these detailed instructions Mr. James had no difficulty in finding the envelope. He bestowed it carefully in the inside pocket of his jacket and closed the door. The door closed with a “whooff” of dust-laden air.

  “Just—take a look at it,” said Mr. James between paroxysms of sneezes. “Just make sure—atishoo—that I’ve shut it—atishoo—properly.”

  Bel made sure by turning the big brass handle and shaking it with all her might. “Perfectly safe,” she said. “But you know, Mr. James, it really ought to be cleaned out.”

  “Well, that’s not our pigeon, thank goodness,” he replied.

  There was a bundle of foreign letters to be translated; Bel had kept them for Mr. James. He accomplished this task in the same capable manner as before.

  “The Guv’nor was awfully pleased when I told him about translating the letters,” said Mr. James. “He was tickled pink. Gave me a fiver! What d’you think of that? Pretty good pay for a couple of hours’ work! I spent some of it on your sweetpeas.”

  Bel’s sweetpeas, which she had arranged in a jam jar, were already filling the room with their fragrance. She looked at them with renewed delight and renewed her expressions of gratitude to their donor.

  “It’s nothing,” he declared in a dégagé manner. “Nothing at all. I’m glad you like them. You’ll take them home with you, I suppose?”

  “Yes, of course I shall.”

  “I wish we could have lunch together but I’d better go straight home. The Guv’nor wants these papers. Oh, he said I was to ask you if there was any news about Mr. Brownlee coming back.”

  “Not yet,” said Bel sadly. “He’s going to a conference at New York so we don’t know when he will be coming.” She hesitated and then added, “I saw his mother on Monday. She was asking about you.”

  “Oh yes! I remember her!” exclaimed Mr. James. “She lives at Beckenham, doesn’t she? Must be a bit dull for her living there all by herself. Perhaps I ought to look her up. What do you think?”

  “I think it would be kind of you.”

  “I like old ladies,” he said.

  Somehow it had never occurred to Bel to class Mrs. Brownlee as an old lady. She was not young, of course, and she was definitely a lady, but the term “old lady” conjured up the vision of a decrepit gentlewoman with silver hair and wrinkles, walking with the help of an ebony stick. Bel tried to explain that Mrs. Brownlee was not in the least like that. On the contrary she was lively and active and good-looking and very much “all there”.

  “She must be pretty old all the same,” declared Mr. James. “I mean look at Mr. Brownlee; he’s no chicken.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  A week passed. Mr. James had come in several times to translate letters and on one occasion he and Bel had lunched together at Smart’s. This time, after some argument, they had each paid for their own meal on the principle of “a Dutch Treat”. Bel was adamant about this. As she had said before, she could not prevent Mr. James from lunching at Smart’s if he wished to do so, but she refused to allow him to spend his money upon her entertainment. It would not be right. All the same she enjoyed the company of her “great big enormous child” and evidently he enjoyed hers. It was a very satisfactory sort of friendship.

  On the following Thursday Bel was summoned by Mr. Wills and went to his room taking with her some letters for him to sign. She had not seen him for two days, which was very unsatisfactory in Bel’s opinion. There were various matters which could not be settled without his authority. The most important was a message from Mr. Nelson at Copping Wharf about some urgent necessary repairs. Mr. Nelson had explained the matter on the phone and Bel, having taken notes of the estimates, was now prepared to pass on the information to Mr. Wills.

  She put the notes before him and began her explanations . . . and then she realised that Mr. Wills was not listening.

  “Ahem . . . Miss Lamington,” he said. “I have decided to make some changes in the office staff.”

  “Oh—yes——” began Bel doubtfully. As a matter of fact her mind was so full of other affairs that she scarcely took in what he was saying.

  “Yes,” said Mr. Wills. “Yes, several changes—long overdue. The fact is, the office is understaffed and the work is not being properly handled. With Mr. Brownlee absent in America and Mr. Copping hors de combat there is far too much to do. I’m unable to get away from the office for sufficient fresh air and exercise. I’m feeling the strain, Miss Lamington.”

  “I’m sorry,” began Bel. “If I could——”

  “There is only one thing to be done; I must get an efficient secretary; a thoroughly experienced man with a knowledge of Spanish.”

  “Mr. James has been translating the letters for us,” said Bel quickly. “He likes doing it,” she added.

  “I don’t feel that is satisfactory, Miss Lamington. No, not satisfactory at all. I have given the matter a great deal of thought. I shall keep Miss Snow as my own personal secretary, she suits me very well, but I have decided to dispense with your services and replace you with a thoroughly competent man.”

  “Replace me!” cried Bel in dismay.

  “Yes.”

  “But Mr. Brownlee asked me——”

  “Mr. Brownlee is in America—as you are aware.”

  “I know—but he said——”

  “In Mr. Brownlee’s absence I am in full charge of the affairs of the firm. It is a heavy responsibility—very heavy indeed.”

  “Yes of course, but—but I hope——” began Bel breathlessly. “I mean if you would just—just tell me what I’ve done wrong. If you have any complaints about—about my work——”

  Until now Mr. Wills had been quite calm but now he was beginning to lose his temper. “Complaints!” he exclaimed. “Yes, Miss Goudge has complained of you. She says you’re impertinent and insubordinate.”

  “Oh, it isn’t true!” cried Bel.

  “I can’t say I’ve found you impertinent,” said Mr. Wills grudgingly, “but I find you extremely interfering.”

  “Interfering?”

  “Very interfering indeed. In the matter of the appointment at Leith, for instance. I am convinced that Anderson is not the right man—not the right man at all.”

  “But the appointment had been made! I couldn’t let you——”

  “It was entirely through your interference that the wrong man was appointed.”

  “The appointmen
t had been made! Honestly, Mr. Wills, it isn’t fair to——”

  “That’s quite enough, Miss Lamington!” exclaimed Mr. Wills, raising his voice and beginning to get very red in the face. “I have no time to bandy words with you. I suppose you’ll admit that I have the right to dismiss any members of the office staff if I find them incompetent?”

  “Incompetent? Mr. Wills! In what way——”

  “Two weeks’ salary,” he said, producing a bulging envelope and laying it on the table. “Two weeks—in lieu of notice.”

  Bel looked at him in dismay. “Do you mean I’m to go—now?”

  “Yes.” He was breathing heavily. His brow was beaded with perspiration.

  “But, Mr. Wills!” cried Bel. “There’s a lot of work. There are various matters—there’s the matter of the estimates. Mr. Nelson rang up this morning——”

  “You are being replaced.”

  “But—but if you’ve got somebody else I must hand over.”

  “No!”

  “Wouldn’t it be better——”

  “No!” he shouted, thumping on the table with his fist. “No, it wouldn’t be better. I won’t have you in the office for another day. Is that clear?”

  Bel gazed at him in amazement.

  “I won’t have you in the office for another day!” repeated Mr. Wills, working himself up to boiling point. “Not for another hour!”

  “Why?” she whispered. “What have I done?”

  “You know perfectly well. Your conduct is most—most reprehensible—most irregular. You had no right at all to encourage young Copping and entertain him in your room.”

  “Mr. Wills, I told you! He came to translate the letters!”

  “He came to see you! He was with you for hours! Extraordinary behaviour! Scandalous—absolutely scandalous!”

  “Mr. Wills! What do you mean?”

  “Entertaining him in your room! Accepting flowers from him! Meeting him in a clandestine manner!”

  “Clandestine? But I only——”

  “You needn’t deny it. You were seen with him.”

  “Mr. Wills, please listen——”

  “You—were seen!” he shouted, glaring at her from beneath his bristling eyebrows. “Scandalous behaviour! I won’t stand it! Carrying on with him—a mere boy! The son of the Senior Partner! Scandalous!”

  He stopped, breathless and panting. He remembered suddenly that it was very bad for him to get excited—the doctor had said so. He had not intended to get excited like this. He had not intended to mention young Copping. There was no need to mention the young cub! He had merely intended to dismiss the girl and to say that he was replacing her with a Thoroughly Experienced Man. That was all. But the girl annoyed him—she had always annoyed him—he could not stand the sight of her! So he had got himself all worked up and said more than he had meant.

  “That will do, Miss Lamington,” he said, waving her away.

  “But—but I must explain——” began Bel desperately.

  “I’m busy. I’ve no time to listen to explanations. Two weeks’ salary,” he added, pushing the bulging envelope across the table towards her.

  He was beginning to get worked up again. He felt queer and giddy. He felt—extremely unwell. Why couldn’t the wretched girl go away and leave him to recover in peace?

  “Take the money and go!” he shouted in fury.

  Bel was terrified.

  Afterwards she thought of all the things she should have said but at the time she was dumb. He looked so queer! He looked—he looked like a madman!

  She turned and fled from the room.

  *

  2

  Bel went into the cloak-room and put on her coat and hat; she went down the stairs and out into the street. She felt dazed. She felt rather sick. Her knees were shaking. For a minute or two she stood there holding on to the railing, her heart hammering madly against her side. Presently the fresh air revived her a little and she began to walk slowly down the street towards the bus.

  Bel did not know how she managed to catch the bus and get home; she managed it somehow, and somehow she managed to toil up the stairs. Her hand was trembling so that she had difficulty in fitting the key into the lock and opening the door of her flat. She went in and shut the door and lay down on her bed.

  She found herself trembling all over, shaking uncontrollably, her teeth chattering in her head. She lay there for quite a long time—not thinking at all, scarcely knowing where she was or why she felt so shattered.

  After a while the trembling ceased and she was able to get up and make herself some tea. She drank it and ate some biscuits. She felt better—more like herself—not so dazed and stupid. She began to think about what had happened. Her thoughts came and went in a muddled sort of way.

  She had been sacked—dismissed without notice. What did he mean about Mr. James? “Meeting him in a clandestine manner”? She had met him for lunch. She had gone to the Zoo with him. Was that clandestine? It was Helen Goudge, thought Bel. She must have seen them . . . and she must have told Mr. Wills about the flowers . . . and Helen Goudge had complained that she was impertinent! That was nonsense. Bel had endured all the insults that she had received without a word—she had taken them lying down!

  What would happen in the office, wondered Bel. How could anyone, however experienced, take over the work without being told about it? Everything would be in a muddle. But it was none of her business any more—she had been sacked. She had no job. She had no reference. Mr. Wills was mad. He had looked mad—quite mad. His red face and glaring eyes! The way his eyebrows had bristled; the way he had shouted and thumped on the table! Mad!

  What would Mr. Brownlee think? She had promised him to stay on and do her best to keep things straight—but she couldn’t stay on because she had been sacked. What would happen to Mr. James? Would he get into trouble? No, surely they wouldn’t dare! Even Mr. Wills wouldn’t dare to bully the son of the Senior Partner. But what would happen when Mr. James called at the office and found she had been dismissed? Would he be angry? She had a feeling he would be very angry indeed. Would he speak to his father about it? Perhaps he would walk into Mr. Wills’s room and ask for an explanation. She could imagine him doing just that—asking for an explanation and keeping on asking until he got it—and she could imagine the frightful scene. She could imagine Mr. Wills shouting and thumping the table with his clenched fist!

  What would happen about the estimates for the repairs to Copping Wharf? Mr. Nelson was waiting for Bel to ring him up about them—he had said the matter was urgent—she should have dealt with that before she left. But she had been sacked—told to go—told to take her money and go!

  Oh heavens, I can’t bear it! thought Bel, holding her aching head in her hands. I’m going crazy! I’m all in a muddle! I must talk to somebody about it—somebody sensible—like Doctor Armstrong!

  If the Armstrongs had been at Coombe House she could have rung them up and talked to them; she might even have gone to them for the weekend; but the Armstrongs were miles away—hundreds of miles away—at Drumburly. Bel had had a letter from Louise that very morning telling her about their journey and what comfortable rooms they had in the hotel. Telling her about the fishing, which was particularly good, and describing the river and the hills. It was all too beautiful for words. “If only you were here it would be perfect,” Louise had written.

  Then suddenly Bel thought: Why not? Was there any reason why she should not be at Drumburly with Louise? There was no reason at all—absolutely none!

  Bel felt quite breathless. She took out Louise’s letter and read it again. She had read it this morning of course but not very carefully for to tell the truth she had felt just a trifle vexed. What was the good of Louise enthusing about Drumburly and saying she wished Bel were there? Bel could not be there—and that was that. Now, however, Bel read the letter very carefully indeed for she had to make sure if Louise really and truly wanted her.

  Louise had the gift of putting herself into a
letter so that when you read it you could almost see her before your eyes, you could hear her talking to you and telling you things. (Some people have this gift and others not). When Bel had read the letter carefully there was no doubt left in her mind: Louise wanted her.

  It was a loving letter and it made Bel feel quite different. She did not feel so frightened; she did not feel so alone. Somebody really cared. She sat down and took a sheet of writing-paper and wrote a hasty reply:

  Darling Louise

  If you really want me I can come. I can come on Monday. Send me a telegram. I will tell you everything when I see you. It would take too long to write.

  With much love from

  Bel

  Part Three

  Chapter Fifteen

  When one has heard a great deal about a place and it has been described as an earthly paradise it is often slightly disappointing and, as the Thames-Clyde Express steamed into Dumfries, Bel Lamington reminded herself of this and tried to still her excitement. The telegram had said she would be met at Dumfries Station; it had given detailed instructions for her journey and, incidentally, it must have cost a small fortune.

  Bel had followed the instructions and, lo and behold, here she was at Dumfries! It seemed a big place—much bigger than she had expected—and, what was even more surprising, the people seemed to be conversing with each other in a foreign language. There was no sign of the Armstrongs and when she had got out of the train and assembled her luggage the excitement seeped out of her and she began to feel a little frightened. It really was rather alarming to arrive like this in a strange place. She remembered suddenly that she had only a few shillings in her pocket—the fare had cost far more than she had thought—and, just supposing something had happened to prevent the Armstrongs from coming to meet her, what was she to do?

  Then suddenly Louise was there, rushing at her, hugging her, and nearly knocking her hat off.

  “Darling!” cried Louise. “I thought you hadn’t come—couldn’t see you anywhere! Oh Bel, how marvellous! It seems too good to be true. I just couldn’t believe it when I got your letter. In fact I didn’t believe you were really coming until this moment—this very moment when I saw you standing on the platform ‘all forlorn’ like the maiden who milked the cow with the crumpled horn.”