by Anita Waller
‘Look,’ she said. ‘Do you like it?’
The table was no more than two feet high with a drawer that had an ornate brass handle.
It looked exquisite. The top of the table was inlaid with flowers and the wood had a wonderful gleam. He reached out a hand to touch it.
‘That’s beautiful,’ he watched her face harden unaccountably.
‘Do you think Brenda and Ken will like it? It’s their Christmas present.’
‘They’ll love it. I’ll not ask what it cost,’ He looked into the unexpectedly animated face of his wife. Could this really be the same person who had written such horror?
‘I have every intention of telling you, skinflint,’ she chided gently. ‘It’s cost me just over £5. I bought the table from a market stall in Padstow, stripped it, made a collage with dried flowers on top and then varnished it.’
‘But…’
‘I know,’ she grinned. ‘You thought you had a dumb blonde for a wife.’
‘No, I didn’t,’ he said, not altogether sure he was telling the truth. ‘What I actually think is that you seem to be wasting your life. The only thing you do is care for Lauren.’
‘Well, now you know differently. This isn’t the only piece I’ve done. I’ve commandeered that old shed down the garden to work in. The chemicals I use can be a bit overpowering. My biggest problem is I have no electricity so I’ve rung someone up. He’s coming tomorrow to put me into the twentieth century.’
‘I can’t believe this. It’s tremendous.’ He lifted the table and turned to inspect the back. ‘It’s a real work of art. Take you long?’
‘About a month. That’s what’s going to make them exclusive.’
He took his eyes away from the table and looked at her.
‘You want to do this for a living?’
‘Not exactly a living; I don’t need money, do I? I don’t know why I’m doing it. I suppose it’s because I get a real kick out of seeing the finished object. I’ve completed about half a dozen but this is the best. And I’m starting to get specific orders – the collaged flowers are sort of becoming a trademark.’ She shrugged her shoulders diffidently.
‘You’re putting yourself down,’ John said slowly. ‘You have a talent that is…well, I can’t think of words to describe this.’ He gently touched the table top. ‘Go for it, Amy. Can you cope with this and Lauren?’
She stood and moved towards the door, carrying the table carefully.
‘Amy? Can you manage both?’ he repeated.
‘Well, if I can’t, I’ll get a nanny,’ she said without looking at him and went through into the hall.
36
David pulled the framed photograph towards him and smiled. He had brought it into the office that morning and every time he looked at it, delight lit up his face.
Pilot had just turned seven and Bryony was eighteen months old. She was almost a mirror image of Pat, as was obvious from the photograph. They had the same hair, same smile and same-coloured eyes. He loved them all so much. And he wanted to spend more time with them.
It was three years since she had started working for him and for the past week he had been considering cutting back his hours and giving Dawn more responsibility. He hoped she would agree. She had been taking on more of the work lately and was proving to be worth every penny of her salary.
His idea was to promote her to do more of his work and get an assistant for her, someone not too junior. He hesitated momentarily before pressing the bell and summoning her into his office.
Since their talk about John two years earlier, they hadn’t mentioned the subject but David knew that they were still together. He looked up as she walked through the door.
‘Come in, Dawn. You don’t need your notepad; I want to talk to you.’
‘Oh dear,’ she quipped. ‘Am I fired?’
‘You will be if you don’t pour us both a cup of coffee. It’s ten minutes since I last had one.’ David was known for his coffee consumption.
She carried the drinks across to his desk and sat facing him.
‘So, what’s wrong?’
‘Nothing at all. In fact, things couldn’t be better.’ He pushed the photograph across the polished surface of the desk. ‘Like it?’
‘It’s terrific. They’ve all got their heads.’
‘That’s because Dad took it and not me. Don’t digress. The point I’m trying to make, if you’ll cut the sarcasm, is that I think they’re terrific and I want to spend more time with them.’
Dawn raised the coffee cup to her lips and put it down without taking a sip. Her stomach churned at the smell.
‘How would you feel about promotion?’
At first his words didn’t register; she was too busy fighting the nausea. When she did take in what he was saying, she didn’t know how to answer.
‘Promotion?’ She sat back in her chair trying to focus her concentration, knowing time had run out. ‘David, it would be pointless. I’m expecting a baby.’
He was silent for a long time, his eyes never leaving her face.
‘Do I say congratulations?’
‘I hope so. I think it’s a pretty impressive achievement.’ Her tone was as flat as his.
‘Does John know?’
She shook her head.
‘Not yet. I wouldn’t have told you if you hadn’t sprung this on me. And it would be unfair of me to accept such a good offer knowing it couldn’t last. I only found out yesterday and I haven’t seen John yet.’
She felt defensive and she was angry. The censorious note in David’s voice was riling her. She took a deep breath.
‘This baby is planned, you know, David. I’m not a silly kid in a no win situation. It won’t have to change our relationship…’
‘If you believe that, Dawn, then you don’t know John as well as you think you do. And have you considered Amy in all of this? You’re going to tear him in two; he’ll want to be with both of you more than ever now.’
She stood and walked towards the door, her back stiff with resentment. Pausing in the doorway, she looked at him for a moment.
‘David, we’ve been friends for too long to fall out over this; irrespective of that, I will say what I feel. This is my life and it really doesn’t matter whether John wants to be with both of us or not, because he can’t have me. This is my baby, my body, my pregnancy and my decision. I take it I don’t need to ask you to keep quiet until I’ve spoken to him?’
He shook his head and sighed.
‘Of course I won’t say anything. Dawn – be careful. Independence is a wonderful thing but do you know how expensive a baby is?’
‘It won’t be a problem.’ She smiled across the room. ‘John and I aren’t stupid. We know what this child means and all royalties from the new book are for our baby. I guarantee you this, David, with this news under his belt; John will write his best book ever.’
David finally smiled.
‘I don’t doubt it, Dawn; I don’t doubt it for one minute.’
‘I think I love you more at this minute than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my entire life.’ John pulled Dawn close to him and held her, rubbing his face into the top of her head.
‘You’re pleased, then?’ She raised her head.
‘Pleased would be an understatement. I feel as though I’m the only one who’s ever done it, super-stud Thornton, no less.’
‘Oh, no,’ she said gravely. ‘I’m sure it must have been done before. I’ve seen the odd child or two down in Padstow, so somebody must be doing it somewhere.’
‘You’re an idiot. So – when do you finish work?’ He laughed.
‘What?’ She pulled away from him slightly. ‘Finish work? My God, not for ages yet, I’m only ten weeks, you know. I’ll work until about eight months provided everything’s ok.’
‘You don’t need to work.’
‘I do. Subject closed, John. I’ll work for as long as I can.’ Once again she had a defensive feeling and didn’t like it. Why wouldn’t people
let her make her own decisions without trying to influence?
‘But…’
‘John, just drop it right now. Let’s talk about other things – like decorating the nursery, buying new furniture, kitting this baby out head to toe.’
He looked at her for a long moment.
‘So I’m to be allowed some share in it then?’
She nodded, trying to stop a smile that threatened to cross her face. ‘Sure – I never said I wouldn’t let you support us. I just don’t want you to leave Amy and Lauren. I’m no good as a wife, John, but I’m bloody good as a mistress.’
He felt bewildered. This woman had taken over his life; she would only allow him into hers on her terms.
‘Dawn – what will the baby be called?’
‘My God, I haven’t thought about names yet! Have you? Do you have a preference for one?’
‘I didn’t mean that. I meant what surname will he or she have.’
‘With your permission I’d like Thornton. But if you feel that it will ever make life difficult for you, then we’ll keep it at Lynch.’
‘It’s Thornton,’ he said. ‘His voice had a rough edge to it. Hang the consequences. This little one will know me as its father.’
‘If we call it Thornton,’ she said slowly, ‘one day the whole world might know you are its father.’
John lifted his head and smiled at the sight of his wife.
‘You look terrific, Mrs Thornton. Going somewhere?’
‘Yes I am. I intended to go on my own but I think maybe I would feel happier if you came with me. Can you spare an hour?’
He looked at his watch – 11.32 am.
‘Mark, what time is David coming?’
Mark opened his diary to check, even though he knew.
‘Not until three o’clock, boss.’
John stood and moved around his desk.
‘Then I have an hour. Is it important?’
‘I think so. I’ve decided the shed is far too small. I’m going to look at a shop that’s just become available. Prime site in Padstow, and the back would convert into a workshop. I just think a male presence will have more effect than if I turn up on my own. And I value your opinion. Do you mind?’
‘Not at all. Is Lauren…?’
‘With Brenda,’ she replied. ‘She’s staying overnight.’
John pushed back the feeling of relief. He’d talked long and hard with Brenda and Ken and they had all decided it would be for the best if Lauren spent a lot of time with her grandparents. Collectively, they decided not to tackle Amy about her problems. In spite of everything, they all concluded she had a right to her hang-ups.
They left the study and Mark sat back from his typewriter, loosening the tartan tie he had carefully knotted that morning. He disliked his employer’s wife and had little respect for her – he didn’t like women who had children they completely ignored. But when she looked as lovely as she looked today…
He grinned and felt his penis harden, pushing against the zip of his trousers.
‘Down, boy, down,’ he muttered and bent over his typewriter. His fingers flew over the keys before he sat back to read what he had typed. Jack took out his knife and held it loosely balanced in his fingers, watching the erotic movements of a fly as it crossed the window pane.
Erotic movements of a fly? Mark picked up John’s handwritten notes, scanned them carefully and laughed. John’s word was erratic not erotic. He knew exactly why he had transcribed erotic – damn Amy Thornton and her smart little rump. He loosened the tartan tie a little further and began to retype the page.
The shop was double-fronted and had previously been used as a bakery.
‘Look,’ she said enthusiastically, standing on the pavement in front of the shop. 'It’s perfect. A coat of paint will transform it. I want it to look really classy and up market. My furniture is expensive and this shop front has to reflect that.’
John stared at his wife, curiosity etched into his face.
‘Expensive? You never said…’
‘You never asked,’ she countered, her eyes fixed firmly above the plate glass window.
‘Okay, I’m asking now. You’re sure you’re doing well enough to be able to afford something like this?’ On the way down to Padstow in the car he had asked about finances and she’d laughed and said he didn’t need to worry because she had made enough money to set up a shop. There would be no need to tap into the family finances to fund the venture.
‘Yesterday I sold a table. That table had been commissioned. I bought it for £23. I sold it for £350. I make a profit. Now stop being an old woman and let’s go inside and speak to that young man. I want this shop up and running within the next two months.'
At one o’clock Dawn went down to sit on the harbour wall to eat her lunch. She finished most of it, fed the seagulls with the last of her sandwiches before heading back to the office, deep in thought about what she and David had been discussing before lunch. Someone would need to be trained to take over her job when the time came.
She reached the shop door as John and Amy came out.
‘Dawn!’ John’s shock left him no choice but to introduce the women.
‘Amy… this is Dawn Lynch, David’s personal assistant. Dawn, I’d like you to meet Amy, my wife.’
Dawn fixed a smile on to her face and held out a hand.
‘Mrs Thornton, it’s good to meet you. I hear a lot about you.’ She felt her cheeks flush.
Amy looked at the other woman.
‘That’s funny. John’s never mentioned you.’ Her tone was cold.
‘That’s probably because the only words we ever exchange are “hello” and “I’ll see if Mr. Farmer is in.” Half of the time he doesn’t even remember my name, usually refers to me as ‘erm’.’
‘Well, it’s been nice meeting you, Miss Lynch.’ Amy began to brush past Dawn.
‘It’s Mrs actually. Divorced. Footloose and fancy free. Goodbye, Mrs Thornton. Goodbye, John.’ As she passed John, she winked. He felt bubbles of laughter begin to erupt in his throat. God how he loved her, this woman who was the only person ever to have bested Amy Thornton.
Padstow Harbour is made up of a long row of shops, leading to the steps at the end where tourists and locals alike catch the ferry to Rock. Amy’s shop was almost central along the parade and stood out significantly following the refurbishment work she had authorized to be done.
She called the shop Optimum. The exterior was painted in French Navy with the shop name lettered in gold. Precariously balancing on a ladder, she carefully stuck dried flowers in a circle to create the letter O.
The effect was stunning and on opening day she felt a justifiable pride in her achievement. She invited all her past customers to a wine and cheese evening at the shop and gave them open invitations to attend with guests.
Ken, Brenda and Freda all arrived together. Freda was staggered by the sumptuous surroundings, the elegance of the fittings and by the furniture already on display. Amy had closed off the workroom area but when Brenda asked to see it, she relented.
It was exactly as Brenda had imagined it would be. Meticulously appointed with gleaming shelves and cupboards, every tool, every bottle of chemical, every piece of furniture undergoing transformation lined up in neat rows; it resembled a chemist’s shop.
‘It’s beautiful, Amy, absolutely beautiful.’ She felt her daughter stiffen. ‘You’ve certainly hidden this talent well. Many congratulations on the opening of your shop, love. You’ve worked hard for it.’
‘It’s not beautiful, Brenda. Not that. It’s functional, practical, whatever else you can think of, but it’s not beautiful.’ She turned and walked towards the door, holding it open for her mother to pass. Locking the door carefully behind her she fixed a smile on her face and turned to mix with the other guests.
‘I’ve been thinking…’
David looked up. Dawn’s pregnancy hadn’t reached the stage where she was blooming. Today she looked sallow. He stood and moved aroun
d his desk.
‘You look awful,’ he said.
‘Spoken like a man who knows about this sort of thing,’ she countered. ‘And I feel bloody awful. Just don’t offer me a cup of coffee or I swear I’ll throw up all over this new, very expensive carpet.’
He laughed. ‘For heaven’s sake come and sit down before you fall down. Tell me what you’ve been thinking about?’
‘Linda Chambers. She’s good and since she worked for John she understands the author’s side of the publishing business. I think she’d make a good replacement.’
‘Know where she is now?’
She shook her head. ‘No, but we have her address on file. I could pay her a visit and get her to come in for an interview.’
‘I trust your judgment implicitly, Dawn. You interview her and if she wants the job make her an offer. John was satisfied with her work, I presume?’
‘More than satisfied. He was sad when she left but she didn’t get on with Amy.’
‘Then find her. The sooner we get her the better and you can start to take things a bit easier.’
‘I’m okay. I’m almost over the worst part. A couple more weeks and it will have passed. Your carpet will be safe until we get near the end – and I’ll try not to let my waters break on it.’
He watched as she left the office. He was going to miss Dawn Lynch. John was a lucky man. He hoped it stayed that way because if Amy ever found out… it just didn’t bear thinking about.
37
Linda paused before climbing the stairs to the offices of Farmers publishing house. The past week during which she had served her notice had gone by quickly and even though it was a cold, rainy Monday, the weather did nothing to dampen her spirits.
Dawn Lynch seemed very nice, very capable and she prayed she could match up to her. She hadn’t hesitated when Dawn had said
‘Would you like a job at Frederick’s?’
She entered the reception area to find Dawn already there.