by Anna Jacobs
Her stepmother and Mrs Rathley didn’t notice because the horrible man chose his moments carefully.
She suddenly realised that she hadn’t checked whether there was a lock on her bedroom door. Bother! If there wasn’t, she’d have to find some way to stop it being opened. No, he wouldn’t try to come into her bedroom unless he was sure she was the sort to accept his advances. Even her stepmother couldn’t have led him to believe that, surely.
Or could she? Had Edna been complaining to him about her unladylike behaviour, exaggerating, as usual? If so, he might consider her fair game, and if he thought her a poor relative, might think her afraid to speak out. Yes, of course Edna would have complained about her ‘free colonial ways’.
The dratted woman had been openly disapproving of how Jo behaved when she first married her father, only he had gently stopped her criticising his daughter. After he died, however, she had started doing so again, not exactly telling lies, but exaggerating greatly.
Oh dear! Jo wished she hadn’t come to stay here, only it had seemed the polite thing to do. Could she move out tomorrow? She might have to.
Mr Rathley’s voice cut into her thoughts. ‘Josephine, my wife has addressed a remark to you.’
‘Oh, sorry. I was just admiring your tableware. Such pretty crockery.’
Mrs Rathley smiled at her but he shot a quick suspicious glance at her, which deepened into a scowl as she added, ‘And I’m afraid that after twenty-six years of being addressed as Jo, I can’t think of myself as “Josephine” so with the best will in the world I won’t always notice that it’s me you’re talking to.’
His colour deepened to a dark red and he breathed deeply, looking angry. The dirty look he gave her seemed to promise retribution for the way she’d responded to him. That did it! She was definitely going to leave the following day.
The meal dragged on and after it ended and they left the table, Jo pretended to yawn. ‘I hope you’ll excuse me, Mr and Mrs Rathley, but the travelling has exhausted me and I can hardly keep my eyes open. Goodnight, everyone.’
She could still hear his voice when she stopped for a moment at the top of the stairs to the second floor. My goodness, he did speak loudly!
‘You’re right, Edna, she is an impudent young madam and needs teaching a few manners, not to mention respect for her betters.’
Betters, indeed! He was an arrogant snob – and probably far worse than that, from the way people talked about him or reacted to his name.
When she got up to her room, the first thing Jo did was check for a key. There was none, nor was there a bolt. What on earth was she going to do?
The house had electric lighting even upstairs in this part used by inferior persons, so she did a quick tour of the other bedrooms, flicking light switches on and off. When she found a room that did have a key in the door lock, she breathed a sigh of relief and moved her things there without asking permission or informing the maid.
She didn’t understand why she felt so unsafe about going to bed. She’d disliked the way he looked at her when they first met, and several times since, but other men had done that. Only, there was something particularly nasty about Clarence Rathley that made her unusually wary and her father had taught her always to listen to her instincts, especially where men were concerned.
She left the curtains half open, not liking to be in the complete dark in a strange room. The bed was comfortable enough but she tossed and turned, sleeping only lightly. Suddenly she was jerked fully awake by a noise outside her door. Sliding quickly out of bed, she saw the door handle turn and heard the door bump against its frame as if someone had tried to open it.
Anger filled her. She wasn’t going to put up with that in silence, so she called out, ‘Whoever is out there, I’m holding a heavy candlestick and will be ready to hit you over the head if you break into my bedroom.’ For some reason she didn’t use his name, though she was quite sure who was trying to get in.
There was silence, but the door handle turned back into its normal position and didn’t move again. She tiptoed across to the door and thought she heard the faint whisper of footsteps moving away and then yes, that was definitely a stair creaking.
Surely she wasn’t the only one to have heard him come upstairs? But if she’d called for help, she wondered whether the maids would have dared come to her aid.
Unable to get to sleep after that, she started thinking what to do in the morning. It would look bad if she simply left the house without a good excuse but she could place no reliance on her stepmother supporting her. However, Jo didn’t feel safe staying here, so she’d just have to go anyway. She wouldn’t be staying long in the area, so what did it really matter?
As the first pale shades of dawn lit the morning sky, she slipped out of bed and went to stand by the window and stare out. There was a lovely view over the moors.
Maybe she should just leave the town altogether and not look for her relatives.
Would that be cowardly or sensible?
4
W hen he left the station, Nick followed the boy he’d hired whose noisy, rattling handcart easily carried the two heavy suitcases. That would be well worth paying sixpence for, even with a short walk to Willcox & Selby Motors.
‘Stop here for a minute while I check it’s the right entrance!’ Nick studied what must once have been the front garden. It was covered in asphalt, on which stood five used cars in a neat row facing passers-by. Todd was chatting to a gentleman next to the end vehicle, an immaculate Wolseley Nine saloon. As it might be someone buying a car, Nick didn’t interrupt their conversation.
Todd winked at him and gestured towards the rather shabby-looking house standing behind the sales yard, then turned back to his customer.
At the door, the lad helped lift the suitcases from the trolley, then went on his way whistling happily with the sixpence stowed carefully in the pocket of his ragged waistcoat.
Nick heaved the suitcases into the house and left them in the hall. Since his brother’s friend was still talking earnestly to the customer, he strolled round the place, finding it larger than you’d guess from outside, with four big rooms on the ground floor, two on either side of the central hall and two behind them. One rear room was a large kitchen with a scullery, pantry and storeroom at the far side of it.
He went back, noting that the front room to the right of the entrance was used as an office and shaking his head at the untidy piles of papers on the desk. He couldn’t operate like that, always preferred to have everything neat and tidy.
Upstairs he found four bedrooms, a small box room and a very old-fashioned bathroom with a gas water heater over the end of the bath. One of the front bedrooms contained a single bed, with blankets and sheets folded in a neat pile at the bottom end. The room also contained a huge, old-fashioned wardrobe and a chest of drawers, both empty. As the other bedrooms had beds with thin flock mattresses on them and no blankets or sheets to be seen, he assumed he’d be using this one, which overlooked the row of cars.
He went downstairs again and out into the backyard, mainly bare earth with a path made of uneven slabs of stone, some cracked, with weeds sprouting here and there. It had a coal store and old-fashioned outside lavatory, and a gate leading out into a laneway between the backyards of two rows of houses.
He peeped into the lavatory, where he found a small shelf with a candle and box of matches standing ready on it, and some torn pieces of newspaper neatly threaded on a string hanging from a nail at one end of the shelf. He grimaced. His grandfather had had a convenience like this. Damned cold in winter, an ordeal in rainy weather.
Still, he needed to use it. Afterwards Nick went back into the house, hearing Todd’s voice coming from the office at the front, and the deeper voice of the customer.
His friend poked his head out. ‘I thought I heard you come in, Nick! Can you spare us a minute or two?’
‘Yes, of course.’
As he went inside the office, Todd gestured to the stranger. ‘This is
Mr Slater, who is buying the Wolseley from me but who needs some driving lessons before he takes to the roads. I told him he was in luck, because you’ve just arrived in town and are offering a special rate for your first customer.’ He cocked one eyebrow and winked without the customer noticing.
‘I am indeed,’ Nick said at once. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Slater.’
As he shook hands, excitement rose in him. He had not only been making plans for setting up his own driving school for years and saving every penny he could to buy a suitable car, but had even visited a branch of the British School of Motoring in a nearby town to see how they did the job. This organisation had opened branches in many English towns over the past two decades, so it stood to reason they must be doing things well.
He’d pretended to be making enquiries about taking driving lessons from them and had found out that these cost ten shillings an hour. When he said this was a lot of money, the man had assured him that the lessons were well worth that, since they covered all necessary basic skills. Further questions produced a printed list of what they undertook to teach customers, which included starting the car engine, controlling the vehicle, changing gear and giving the necessary hand signals, as well as hints on driving safely once their pupils were turned loose on the roads.
He hadn’t gone as far as booking a lesson, didn’t think he could pretend not to know how to drive, because he’d been doing it for ten years, ever since he was eighteen.
A few weeks after that visit he’d been lucky enough to obtain a job as instructor in a small driving school nearby, whose owner had more customers than he could handle on his own. During his year working there Nick had found he enjoyed sharing his skills with others and was good at it – and the owner said he was, too.
However, he had his own views of what was needed and intended to cover more than the basic skills necessary to drive a vehicle. To his mind, it was essential to be able to interact with other traffic, yes, and with pedestrians. And that took practice.
Of course, driving in a small town like Rivenshaw wouldn’t be as difficult as it would in a busy city. But you could never be quite sure what other drivers would do, let alone where you’d be driving, so you should be prepared. A lot of people had been killed on the roads in the past few years, the accidents often caused by pedestrians’ lack of understanding about how fast cars could go or by drivers’ lack of skills in handling a vehicle in busy traffic. And there were still plenty of horse-drawn vehicles and bicycles on the roads you needed to be careful with. Yes, a lot to cover.
Now that it was likely some sort of driving test would be made compulsory by the government, Nick hoped this would be a good time to start a business of his own. When Todd had made him an offer of help via his brother, who must have told his friend about his efforts, he’d snapped up the chance to make a real start.
He realised the customer was still waiting for an answer. ‘The standard price of lessons is around ten shillings an hour everywhere, sir, but as you’d be the first customer in my new business, I’d offer the lessons to you at seven shillings and sixpence for the first five hours – which is usually enough to get most people driving safely.’
The man frowned. ‘That still seems rather expensive. Have you had experience of teaching people to drive?’
‘Oh, yes. I worked for a small driving school in the Midlands until recently.’
‘It’s a lot of money for only an hour’s work.’
‘If you consider my expenses before a client even gets into my car, you’ll see that my charges are reasonable. I have to cover the cost of buying my own vehicle and providing petrol, not to mention paying higher insurance fees for the vehicle because of the greater risk of learners having accidents.’
‘Ah. I never thought of all those.’
Todd joined in. ‘And since you’ll be spending a lot of money on your own car and you won’t want to damage it, Mr Slater, I’m sure you will want to learn to drive safely , so for several reasons, it will be money well spent. My friend here is a very capable chap or I’d not be recommending him. It’s only because you’re his first customer that you’re getting a discount. It’ll be ten shillings an hour for everyone else from now on.’
Mr Slater nodded reluctantly. ‘Well, when you put it that way, I see what you mean. I’ll definitely take a few lessons with you, Mr Howarth. Anyway, I understand I’ll need to show I’ve taken some instruction before I’ll be allowed to buy a driving licence at the post office.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘That will cost five shillings just for a piece of paper! The government must be making a lot of money from motorists.’
Nick knew the signs: this man wouldn’t be an easy pupil. ‘Well, at least the Highway Code book costs only a penny, sir. You have got one?’
‘I bought one yesterday.’
‘You should read it very carefully before you get into a vehicle, then you’ll know what to expect.’
‘Yes, yes. I’ll read it tonight.’
Todd added slyly, ‘Think how wonderful you’ll feel once you’ve learned to drive and are free to go where you please at the drop of a hat, Mr Slater. Little outings into the countryside or across the Pennines into Yorkshire.’
The customer’s expression brightened. ‘Yes, indeed. I must say my wife and I are looking forward to that.’ Then his smile faded and he sighed. ‘She’s even talking about learning to drive as well, but I’m not sure women should be allowed to. They’re much too excitable. What do you two gentlemen think?’
‘A lot of women drove during the war,’ Todd said. ‘They even drove large vehicles, lorries and buses, which are much more difficult to handle, and did it as well as the men, too. And we in the forces were glad to have them doing it, I can tell you.’
Nick could see from Mr Slater’s expression that this didn’t help much. ‘If they’re carefully taught, women are perfectly safe on the roads, I promise you, sir.’
Todd added quickly, ‘I’ve heard that there is a lady intending to give driving lessons to other ladies in our town, which will be much more comfortable for all concerned.’
‘My goodness! Just imagine that! Wait till I tell Mrs Slater! She can be very headstrong when she wants something, but if she’s carefully taught, well, it may be all right, as you say, Mr Howarth.’ He turned back to Todd. ‘Now, I’ll just write you a cheque for the car.’
Hiding a smile, Nick left them to it and went to put the kettle on. Ten minutes later he heard the customer leaving.
Todd came to join him in the back room. ‘I’ve had that man fussing about the car for well over an hour today, even though it’s a Sunday. I had to come in specially for him. He came to inspect the car yesterday and stayed just as long, but he likes to be fussed over. I thought he’d never come to the point. He’s been going over and over the same ground with his questions. If he’s such a ditherer, I reckon he’s the one who’ll not make a good driver, rather than his wife, so I don’t envy you teaching him.
‘I’ve taught ditherers before. I’ll manage.’
‘Yes. Your brother said you had a good reputation as an instructor. Anyway, Slater’s coming at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon for his first lesson.’
Nick looked at him in dismay. ‘But I haven’t bought myself a car yet.’
‘I said I’d find one for you and I have done. You won’t get a better bargain than this one, I promise you. It’s waiting for you in the workshop. I’ve been checking the engine over carefully, and haven’t found a thing wrong with it. It’s a Ford, a Model A saloon, made in 1930, and it’s hardly been driven. Good as new, it is.’
‘How much?’
‘Nothing till you start earning.’
‘I can’t accept that.’
‘Why not? I know you’ll pay me back in time; you’re Stan’s brother. Look, lad, you’re better having a bit of money behind you at first when you start a business. You can pay me once you’re more settled.’
They haggled for a few moments then Nick gave in. His brother’s friend wa
s determined to help him set up. He’d find a way to repay his companion for this generosity one day, though.
Todd patted the upper pocket in his jacket. ‘I’m looking forward to paying this cheque into the bank after all the patience it took to earn it. When I’ve had my cup of tea, we’ll try out your new vehicle.’
Nick would rather have gone to look at it immediately, because he wasn’t buying the car until he’d tried it out, even on such favourable terms. He’d had a little van until recently and it had been a good runner. He’d sold it to an eager friend in Leicester before he came here, because it wouldn’t have been suitable for teaching driving in. But he’d loved that van.
Todd took a mouthful of tea and waved one hand at their surroundings. ‘The house is rather old-fashioned, I’m afraid, Nick lad, but you can bring in any furniture you please and you can use the other front room as your office, if you like, as well. There’s plenty of room in it for a clerk.’
‘I shan’t be able to afford a clerk at first. I’m not certain how I’ll manage the bookings. Maybe take bookings in the evenings.’
‘No, that won’t do. You’ll lose opportunities that way. I’ve been thinking about it. How about we share the cost of a woman to do our paperwork and make appointments for your driving school as well as sorting out my mess? I definitely need help in my office. What do you think?’
‘It sounds like a good idea.’
‘And you can definitely share the cost of her wages.’
Nick nodded, relieved. He didn’t want to feel like a charity case. ‘I must pay some rent, though.’
‘Well, I’d rather you paid it in kind. Three ways, actually. First, you know enough about cars to deal with queries when I’m not here. People come knocking on the door at all hours, and you can contact me at home if it’s urgent. Second, I reckon it’ll help my sales if I have a driving school on the spot. And third, the cars will be more secure overnight if someone’s living here.’