Molly

by Molly (retail) (epub)

  “This way.” Adam’s voice was clipped and cool. He took her lightly by the elbow and steered her through the busy hall to a small swing door at the rear of the building. Once through they were in a narrow, dirty alleyway, unevenly paved between high, blackened brick walls. Adam let go of her arm. Despite his disability he walked very fast. Molly hurried beside him, taking two steps to his one, stumbling awkwardly in her high-heeled boots on the uneven ground, gritting her teeth against asking her escort to slow down. The alleyway led them into one of the main commercial thoroughfares that skirted the docks. The wide road was a chaos of horse-drawn vehicles, trams, motor lorries, porters with carts and with barrows. Adam plunged straight across. Perforce, Molly followed. Halfway across she hesitated a little nervously as an enormous horse plodded in front of her, pulling a heavily loaded cart.

  “Come on, Missis,” said an impatient voice, “what the ’ell you doin’? You can’t stop there.”

  A tram bell clanged noisily. Molly felt her heel slip into one of the tramlines. She lifted her skirt and disengaged her foot, noticing as she did so that her best leather boots were badly scratched. She muttered fiercely beneath her breath. A firm hand took her elbow and Adam propelled her with some force to the other side of the road. Once there she shook herself free, exasperated. “Is there a fire somewhere?” she asked, with asperity.

  He eyed her for a moment, his face expressionless. Around them as they stood the current of humanity swirled. Nearby a group of men, all dressed alike in shabby clothes, flat caps and mufflers, their feet encased in the enormous protective boots of the docker, leaned against the dock wall, smoking and talking. There were few smiles, no laughter, as these casual labourers, shoulders slumped, waited for the noon call-on in the faint hope that they might be luckier than they had been that morning. Somewhere a ship’s siren sounded. A long, clanking line of railway trucks pulled slowly past them and the traffic slowed as the trucks crossed the road towards the depot.

  “You have to move fast round here,” Adam said in that distinctive voice she remembered so well, “or you’re dead. Or crippled.”

  She glanced sharply at him, wanting to ask, knowing that she could not.

  “No,” he answered the unspoken question easily, “I didn’t fall under a train. I had a motor accident, in the United States. Last year. Now – do you want to see the store or not? I haven’t much time, I’m afraid. I’ve an – appointment at twelve.” She did not miss the fractional hesitation and came to an immediate conclusion as to the nature of his appointment.

  “If you’re too busy—” she said, stiffly.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake.” He was mildly impatient. “If you’re going to work for us, as Joseph said, you’ll find it helpful to know how we operate. You’ll need to instruct your drivers. Are you interested or aren’t you?”

  She pressed her lips very firmly together and nodded.

  He led her through the great dock gates, where the policeman on duty touched his helmet respectfully. “Mornin’, Mr Jefferson.”

  “There it is.” Adam pointed to an enormous, windowless brick-built building that stood like the fortress of a giant by the waterside. A great arch in the lower wall showed glimpses, in the electric-lit, cavernous darkness within, of bustling activity. Railway lines led from the arch out through the dock gates.

  “There’s a station in there!” Molly said, wide-eyed.

  “That’s right. A lot of our stuff goes out by rail. The docks are connected directly to the railhead. This way.”

  He strode ahead of her. Men greeted him respectfully, eyed Molly with some curiosity. Of necessity she paused at the foot of the very steep steps that led up to the door of the building, cursing once again, silently, her fashionable but totally unsuitable hobble skirt. Adam turned and saw her dilemma. For the first time since they had met in the office, his smile was genuine. He came swiftly back down the steps. “Hold on.” Easily he bent down and lifted her bodily onto the first and highest of the steps. “There you are.” He turned from her and walked into the great, cathedral-like building, leaving her to follow.

  Molly stared after the straight, arrogant back for a moment, truly hating him. Hating him for the cool, businesslike briskness, for his apparent lack of any emotion but impatience at this unexpected meeting that had shaken her to her soul, for having hands so strong and warm that it was as if they still held her. The bells of danger were ringing loudly in her mind. She hesitated. There was nothing to prevent her from leaving right now, forgetting about the contract. For herself, she knew surely, it would be the best and most sensible thing to do. But for Danbury’s? She had worked hard for this contract. Joseph Forrest liked her; she sensed it. Who knew what other work he might put their way if they handled this one well? If she walked away now, turned down the fruit contract for no admissible reason, what would he think of her? Of Danbury’s? He’d never use them again, that was certain.

  Adam had stopped and was talking to a large, red-faced man who was dressed in a rag-bag of clothes over which was spread a huge, stained apron. He towered over Adam’s slighter figure – as indeed did almost every other man in the place. Why, she asked herself in irritation, didn’t that make Adam look insignificant? He looked back at her now, waiting with scarcely disguised impatience for her to join them. Now or never. Stay or go?

  She lifted her chin and marched into the noise and activity of the loading bay.

  * * *

  When she got back to The Larches Jack had visitors.

  “Charley brought them,” Nancy said.

  “Union?”

  Nancy shrugged. “I don’t think so. How did it go?”

  Molly tossed her hat onto the desk. “We got it. The fruit carting contract. Good terms, too.”

  “Marvellous! Jack’ll be pleased.”

  “Mm. I’ll tell him later, when his visitors have gone.” Molly stood fiddling with the pens and pencils that were stacked tidily on the desk. “You’ll never guess who Joseph Forrest’s new partner turned out to be?”

  “No?” Nancy was only mildly interested.

  “Adam Jefferson.” Molly, with sinking heart, realized with what pleasure she spoke that name again, despite everything.

  That brought Nancy’s head up. “Good Lord! I thought he’d gone to America or something?”

  “He did. But he’s back. About to make a fortune in cold storage, or so he believes.”

  “Well, well. You’d better keep your wits about you if he’s got a finger in the pie—”

  * * *

  When Molly joined Jack in the parlour later he was lying propped up against his pillows, surrounded by bits of paper. His enforced inactivity had caused him to put on a little weight. His singed hair had grown again, the burn on his face was just a slight pinkness against the ruddy skin. His eyes were bright and clear, and they lit up when Molly walked through the door.

  She smiled. “I’ve brought you a present.”

  “Oh, aye?”

  She leaned close and kissed him lightly. “A contract to haul all of Joseph Forrest’s fruit imports within London and Essex.”

  He opened his arms wide and caught her in a bear hug, rocking her back and forth. “You’re a clever little lass, and no mistake.”

  She looked around for the first time at the papers scattered over the bed. “What’s all this?”

  “Just something I’m working on with a mate of Charley’s. I’ll tell you later, if anything comes of it.” He leaned back on the pillows. “Are you at the yard tomorrow?”

  She stood up, smoothing her dress. “As a matter of fact, I thought that I might just pop back to see Joseph Forrest. Nothing much, just a few details to be worked out—”

  Later, seated at her dressing table with her hands to her burning cheeks, staring at herself in the mirror, she asked herself for the dozenth time why she had spoken the words. Why she had even thought them. There was no earthly reason for her to go near Forrest’s. Of course she would not go. Of course not.

&n
bsp; Chapter Thirty-Seven

  She sipped her sherry, felt it slide down her throat, warming her, calming her nerves. “Have you known Mr Jefferson for long?” she asked, very casually, and for all the world as if this were not the one and only question she had come to ask.

  Joseph Forrest leaned back in his chair. “Oh, yes. We’re old friends. I’ve been after him to join me for years. He’s a very astute businessman, Mrs Benton, as you probably know. Very astute.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “He has great hopes of the cold storage industry. He’s been to the United States, seen how the big fellows work—”

  Curiosity still nibbled. “You knew him when he was at Stowe, Jefferson, then?”

  “Oh, yes, of course. Worse day’s work old Stowe ever did was to let Adam go. The business world needs men like him. Men with drive, enthusiasm, ambition, brains.”

  “He certainly has those.” She fiddled with her glass for a moment. “Why did he leave the company, do you know?”

  Joseph Forrest cleared his throat. “Hrrmp.” Molly looked up. To her surprise the older man’s face was tinged a faint pink. She looked at him enquiringly.

  He was obviously acutely uncomfortable. “I’m not sure – under the circumstances—”

  “Circumstances?”

  “The – the divorce…” He spoke the word as if the very taste were unpleasant. “Caroline was old Stowe’s daughter, you see—”

  “Yes, I did know that. You mean—” she paused, “you mean she divorced him?”

  “Er, yes. That’s right. But really, Mrs Benton, I hardly think—”

  “And Adam left the firm and joined you?”

  “Not just like that, no. He went to America, as you know, and when he came back it was my suggestion that he should join me. As I say, I’ve always admired Adam—”

  “I am absolutely certain, Joseph,” the light voice came from the doorway, “that Mrs Benton has not the slightest interest in my doings, past or future—” Adam stood, leaning slightly, at the open door. Beside him, a narrow hand possessively on his arm, stood a very pretty young woman whom Molly recognized immediately from the picture on Joseph’s desk as Etta Forrest, Joseph’s wife.

  Joseph stood up. “Etta, my dear. Come in, come in, both of you. Where did you come across one another?”

  Adam laughed as he escorted the girl into the room. She was dressed simply and elegantly in fawn and brown, which emphasized her shining brown hair and creamy skin. She walked gracefully to the desk, accepted her husband’s kiss on a smooth cheek, then moved back to where Adam held a chair for her.

  “We met outside the bank.” Although he addressed himself to Joseph, Adam’s cool eyes were still upon Molly. She blushed furiously, wondering how much of her catechism he had heard. “I persuaded Etta to a cup of coffee with me before handing her over to you, Joseph. I hope you aren’t going to horsewhip me?”

  Joseph laughed, jovially. “Good Lord, of course not, my boy. I have little enough time to give my Etta such little treats myself. Delighted. Absolutely delighted.”

  Molly stared at him in disbelief. Adam, as on the day before, had not sat down. Molly suspected that, with his damaged leg, it was an action that he could not yet manage with his customary ease. He leaned now behind Etta Forrest’s chair, his hand on the chair back, his long fingers just brushing her shoulder. The young woman leaned a little towards him, eyes bright, a faint flush of colour in her pale cheeks. Molly could sense the attraction between them. Surely Joseph Forrest could not be so blind that he could not? Doting he might be; stupid, Molly already knew, he was not. Yet as he gazed at Etta his face showed nothing but pride and utter happiness. My God, thought Molly, the things love can do to us. She darted a look of pure dislike at Adam, who took it, unperturbed. She stood up, putting her glass on the desk.

  “Not going, surely?” Adam asked politely. “Please don’t let us chase you away. Not before you’ve got all the information that you came for—?” The double meaning in the words was for no one in the room but Molly.

  “I came to finalize some of the details of the contract,” she said stiffly. “I really must be on my way now. With two businesses to run my time is very limited.”

  “Well, we’re delighted that you could spare some of it for us, aren’t we, Joseph?” Adam was laughing at her; he had not missed her tart tone, nor the flick of her glance at Etta.

  “We most certainly are.” Beaming, Joseph came out from behind his desk, his hand extended. “Delighted to do business with you, Mrs Benton,” he said warmly. “I’m sure that we’re going to suit each other very nicely.”

  She murmured her thanks, nodded to Adam and to Etta Forrest The girl looked at her with some curiosity, called out “Goodbye, Mrs Benton.”

  As the door shut behind her Molly heard Etta’s bright voice, pitched quite normally, so that it carried out on to the landing. “Good heavens! Was she serious? Does she really run a business? How extraordinary.” It was clear that the words were not meant as a compliment.

  Molly heard the sound of Adam’s voice, could not hear what he said. She slammed the lift doors behind her hard enough to jam them for a week.

  * * *

  On the day that Jack managed to walk his first half-a-dozen steps alone, Nancy had disappeared on one of her suffragette missions. When she returned late in the evening to be told the good news, she grinned delightedly. “I’ll go and see him in a minute. I’d better get changed first.”

  Molly studied her. “Yes, I should think you’d better. Nancy, what in the name of heaven have you been doing?” Nancy’s clothes were splattered with scarlet paint, her hands were smeared with it, as was her face. The hem of her dress was torn and her hair was wild.

  “Been painting the town red,” she said lightly. “Unfortunately a couple of coppers took exception and we had to climb over some railings.”

  Molly opened her mouth, closed it again as the door opened.

  “Hello, Aunt Nancy.” Kitty regarded her with astonished eyes but, typically, did not comment.

  Meg, just as typically, did. “Gosh, Aunt Nancy, what have you been up to now? You look like the wreck of the Hesperus. We just met Effie,” she added to her mother without pausing for breath. “She says she can start on Monday. I said it’d be all right. Going up in the world, aren’t we? Servants, and all—” She threw her head back and laughed. The twins grew more unlike each other with each day that passed. Meghan, tall and slender, with her mass of fair hair and clear, knowing eyes in a face that displayed her father’s strong bones, looked by far the older of the two. “Come on, Kit. Lucy’s expecting us – I told her we’d be there by four.”

  Smiling, Nancy watched them tumble from the room. “What a handful. And who’s Effie?”

  “Effie Price. You know – the family that lives on the corner of Sarah’s road? She’s coming to help me in the house.”

  “Well, it’s about time you had someone.” Nancy looked down at her ruined dress. “I’d better go and get myself cleaned up before I visit with brother Jack.”

  * * *

  His first steps taken, Jack appeared to improve rapidly. His enormous strength and stubborn determination to get completely well drove him to greater efforts each day. Within a couple of weeks of those first steps he could walk with the aid of a stick, but inevitably, he overdid it. The doctor tutted, shook a grey head. “Back to bed for a few days, Mr Benton. If you don’t get off your feet and take some rest then I’ll certainly take no responsibility for the consequences.”

  So poor Jack, seething and frustrated, had to submit to becoming an invalid again, fussed over happily by Effie Price, a tall, stringy girl with buck teeth and a soft voice who within a couple of days had made herself indispensable to the Benton household. She worked uncomplainingly, swiftly made friends with the children. For Molly she evinced a kind of astonished respect, while Jack she quite openly adored. His uncomplicated, straightforward kindness won her completely. Her own father was a shiftless, brutal ma
n as likely to cuff her as to speak to her.

  “Me Dad’s a pig,” she said frankly to Molly as she washed the breakfast dishes. “’E’s always threatening to up and go. Best thing that could ’appen for all of us, if you ask me.”

  Meg, still sitting at the table, giggled.

  It was Saturday morning and Molly was due at Danbury’s offices, where she hoped to catch up on some paperwork. She reached for her coat. “I’m sure you don’t mean that, Effie.”

  “Don’t I though?” muttered the girl with feeling as she attacked the pots and pans with more than usual vigour.

  As Molly hurried into her coat, Meg jumped to her feet, as if she had been waiting for a signal. “You said we could come,” she said.

  “Come where?”

  “To the yard. You said we could come and see Daisy’s new foal.”

  “Oh—” Molly hesitated, “—not today, love. I’m very busy.”

  “You’re always busy.” Meghan’s voice was flat. “So when? The foal will be a horse by the time we get to see it.” Her lip pouted in an expression that Molly knew all too well. “You promised.”

  “I know I did, but—” Vague feelings of guilt stirred within her. “All right. Fetch Kitty, quickly. But you’ll have to be good, and stay out from under my feet.”