by Janet Tanner
Gilbert hid a smile and straightened the papers on the table in front of him. ‘Item Five on the agenda – future development of the company. Now before I come to the main reason for the inclusion of this item I should like to recap on the position as I see it – where we stand at present.’ He paused to take a sip of water from the tumbler at his elbow and they waited, all looking at him with the exception of Max, who was doodling absently on his agenda for he considered board meetings to be a shocking waste of time and sat through them on sufferance only. Gilbert set down his glass, wiped away a droplet of water which was clinging to his moustache, and continued: ‘Our industry was one of the few to actually benefit as a result of the war. Resources were made available, the order books were full and necessity, as always, became the mother of invention. We went ahead by leaps and bounds, we saw the sort of progress in a few short years which could have taken decades to achieve in time of peace. Now that the war is over, naturally everything is turned on its head. Orders have been cancelled, we have more workers than we can usefully employ, half-built aircraft in the sheds, unwanted, and a proclivity to design fighting planes which hopefully will never again be needed in our lifetime. The situation could well be viewed as serious – many of the companies which leaped on the bandwagon and took up aircraft production during the boom years will go to the wall – some have already done so. As you know we have been fortunate enough to recruit the services of a couple of first rate designers for the Engine Division, thrown out of work when their company failed.’
‘A rash move. Extra wage packets to fill at a time like this,’ Leo snorted under his breath.
Gilbert ignored him. ‘I believe it would be a very retrograde step to draw our horns in now. I fully realise there are tough times ahead – and maybe they will be even tougher than we expect before we’re through the worst of it. But we have the advantage of working from a sound base – Morse Motors is, and has been for many years, a successful company which is financially secure and Morse Motors can still be regarded as the parent company of Morse Bailey International – the division which will be most vulnerable if things get tight. And so I firmly believe that we should take the long-term view and look upon the present difficulties as a temporary setback only. We should continue to press ahead, take steps to secure our position in the marketplace for civil aircraft and expand our interests in whatever direction is open to us.’ He paused for another sip of water.
‘Fine words, Gilbert,’ Leo said shortly. ‘But I am not quite sure yet where they are leading us. What exactly is this ‘‘expansion’’ you have in mind?’
‘I am coming to that, Leo,’ Gilbert said smoothly. ‘I am about to suggest that we diversify a little and set up a new division – with the same board as we have for Morse Bailey International, I hasten to add.’
A murmur ran around the table.
‘Diversify?’ Leo pressed. It was totally foreign to his nature to sit quietly and listen without barking questions. ‘Diversify, how?’
Gilbert spread his hands on the table in front of him. He looked around, meeting each pair of eyes in turn. ‘At the present time no-one wants to buy our aircraft. That will change, I am convinced of it, but in the meantime I have an alternative – rather an exciting one – to suggest. I propose that we create our own market. That we buy some of our own aeroplanes and set up a civil airline for the transportation of freight – and passengers.’
For a moment there was complete silence around the table. Even Max stopped doodling and looked up at Gilbert, an expression of bemusement on his mobile features. Again it was Leo who broke the silence.
‘Good God, Gilbert, I guessed you had a shock in store for us but I had no idea what it was. You are suggesting we should actually run a civil air service?’
‘I am.’ Gilbert’s voice was firm and strong now, daring them to disagree with him. ‘I believe it is the way of the future. Great Scott, it has to be! As you all know, the first mail was delivered as long as nine years ago, more for show than anything else, I agree, but nevertheless it demonstrated the commercial uses of flying. Think of the ease and the speed with which deliveries can be made over great distances!’
‘Freight, yes,’ Leo argued. ‘But passengers? Who, I would like to know, would be willing to pay to put themselves in a position of danger and discomfort?’
‘Plenty will – especially when we have had a chance to modify our aeroplanes accordingly,’ Gilbert said with confidence.
‘So. We are all to be fully employed producing aeroplanes to ferry presently non-existent passengers from A to B,’ Leo said, his tone heavily sarcastic. ‘And who is going to run this new venture? Have you thought of that?’
‘Yes,’ Gilbert said, ‘I do have someone in mind – the person who suggested the idea to me in the first place. And I must say I think she will make an excellent job of it.’
‘She?’
‘Yes. The person I have in mind is Sarah Gardiner.’
Again there was a moment’s surprised silence and in it Gilbert took the opportunity to assess the impact of what he had said on the members of his board.
Max’s face, predictably, was unreadable – the features which had once been so expressive now conveyed only sadness and a vague disinterest in anything which did not directly concern him or his designs. Joe Isaacs too was an unknown quantity. He looked thoughtful, assessing the pros and cons of Gilbert’s suggestion with all the thoroughness that made him a good accountant. He is deciding what should go into the debit column and what the credit, Gilbert thought.
The reaction of the others was much clearer, however. Adam’s broad grin showed a measure of amusement, whilst Alicia looked thunderstruck. Perhaps outrage was the only word to accurately describe her expression as she sat stiffly erect as if her father’s words had turned her, like Lot’s wife, into a pillar of salt.
Adam was the first to speak. ‘I congratulate you, Gilbert – or perhaps the congratulations should go to Sarah. I had a feeling when I was with her this morning that she had something up her sleeve – she looked like the cat who got the cream, and I thought it couldn’t all be due to her acquitting herself so well on her first flight at the controls.’
‘Hmm. She is not proposing to pilot her airline as well, is she?’ Leo enquired coldly but inwardly he was ablaze with anger. What in hell was Gilbert thinking of to entertain such an idea for a moment? At best the project was a risky one, but to set a woman to run it … an upstart like Sarah at that … well, it was folly in the extreme.
‘Sarah would do anything to make an exhibition of herself,’ Alicia said. In her own way she was as furious as Leo at the suggestion – why did her father have to fawn over Sarah so?
‘That is ridiculous and you know it,’ Adam said sharply. ‘Sarah does not even have her ‘‘A’’ grade Private Pilot’s Licence yet – she would need a ‘‘B’’ licence in order to fly for hire or reward, and they don’t grow on trees. One hundred hours’ solo flying, mechanical theory, meteorology and navigation, altitude and night flying, not to mention crosscountry flights of not less than two hundred miles – it will be a long time before Sarah qualifies for that. Not that it would surprise me if she does it eventually,’ he added wickedly for he could not resist goading them a little.
‘But she could run a company?’ Leo demanded.
‘She has had a good deal of experience over the last few years, and she covered for Lawrence very satisfactorily when he was ill.’
‘Lawrence!’ Leo said rudely and drew an annoyed glance from Gilbert. Lawrence might not have been the world’s most efficient businessman but one did not ridicule the dead. It simply was not done.
‘Well, I shall certainly oppose any such suggestion,’ Leo said vehemently. ‘Where do you stand on this, Isaacs?’
The little Jew tugged at his beard thoughtfully. ‘It is a risk, it’s true. We could end up in serious trouble.’
‘Exactly!’ Leo’s tone was triumphant.
‘On the other hand if we
do not move forward we could find ourselves atrophied. As Mr Morse has pointed out, sometimes to try to stand still is to find oneself slipping backwards. These are difficult times – a wrong move could be fatal. But so could an opportunity lost.’
‘So which way do you intend to vote, man?’ Leo blustered.
‘Give me a chance to make up my mind. I want to work out a few permutations …’ His pencil was busy, jotting sums on the edge of his agenda and referring back to the financial statement he had presented earlier.
‘Well I think it is a splendid idea,’ Max put in unexpectedly. ‘I shall modify my designs with a good deal more confidence if I know where the finished aircraft are to find a home. Yes, yes … and little Sarah too; the challenge will be good for her. She needs her work, just as I do …’ His eyes clouded and his voice tailed away.
‘Adam?’ Gilbert prompted.
‘I agree. An excellent idea. As Joe has pointed out, it’s not without its risks but I believe we should go all out for a place in the aircraft industry of the future.’
‘James?’ But James’s blue eyes were dreamy. He was probably not listening at all but composing a poem, Gilbert thought irritably. Really there was little point in forcing him to sit on the board. Gilbert had hoped that after his experiences as a conscientious objector, involvement with the company might give him a new interest but it had been a vain hope. James would vote with Alicia as he always did, following her blindly. And Gilbert knew from Alicia’s expression that she was going to oppose him.
A faint smile lifted his lips. He was proud of Alicia. A woman with a mind of her own. Why had his sons not inherited those same attributes?
In spite of the partly pulled blind the sun was beaming in, making the room very hot and stuffy. Gilbert decided there was no point in delaying the issue. Every mind was clearly made up – with the possible exception of Joe Isaacs.
‘Do we want to discuss this matter further or shall we take a vote?’ he asked.
‘Vote and have done with it,’ Leo looked confident. It was not the first time he had opposed Gilbert’s will – but if he carried the day it would be the first time he had won. Usually Alicia was at daggers drawn with him …
‘Those in favour of the new company?’ Gilbert asked.
Two hands went up immediately – Adam and Max. Predictable. Gilbert waited, looking at Joe. Slowly, a little uncertainly, the Jew began to raise his hand, then, making up his mind, extended it fully. Three for.
‘And against?’
Leo and Alicia raised their hands. This time it was James who at first hesitated then followed suit. Three against. Gilbert knew a moment’s triumph.
‘Then I have the casting vote,’ he said. ‘I think you all know which way I shall use it – I would scarcely have raised the issue had I not been in favour. So.’ He smiled, a thin smile meant to forestall any suggestion that he might be crowing. ‘ If our good lady secretary would record the vote – four to three in favour of the proposed expansion – perhaps someone would like to ask Sarah to step inside. Adam – you are nearest the door. She will be anxious to know of our decision and I think she may have a few words to say to you regarding her ideas for the airline. Adam?’
He glanced around looking at the faces of the vanquished. Alicia looked furious still, her face very white in spite of the heat of the room, violet eyes flashing. No matter. A little healthy rivalry would be good for the new company. With Alicia breathing down her neck Sarah was more likely to pull out all stops to succeed. James?
James could hardly be counted as opposition. He would float with the tide. But Leo …
Leo pushed back his chair and stood up.
‘It seems I have been outvoted,’ he said. ‘ But I should warn you, Gilbert, I shall fight you all the way on this. I think we are making a big mistake – and I would like my opinion recorded. Furthermore, if the situation changes at any time I shall oppose.’
‘Oh don’t be such a bore, Leo,’ Alicia said, making it clear that the fact they had voted together on this did not mean they were allies. ‘I dare say one day you will be Chairman of this company. When you are I suppose you will have your way. Until then at least have the courtesy to sit down and listen to what Sarah has to say.’
To her surprise he did as she said. But a curious light had come into his eyes. And as Sarah addressed the meeting, putting forward ideas for the new airline, he seemed not to be listening at all.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The trainer plane banked steeply, wing tips angled so that the patchwork of fields below seemed to turn a slow graceful cartwheel, and straightened again. A small air pocket lifted and dropped it like a boat riding a gentle swell, and the breeze on Sarah’s face was soft and cool. She flexed her hands on the controls, enjoying herself. She had completed eight hours’ tuition now and Adam had said that he thought she was almost ready to go solo. ‘Just as long as you remember not to be so heavy handed,’ he had cautioned her. ‘You have a tendency to go at it like a bull at a gate. The more you try to rush things the longer it will take, you know.’
Sarah had been a little annoyed by the implied criticism. Patience, which had never been her strong suit, was required for everything – and not only in the case of the flying lessons for which she had waited so long, but also for the lengthy struggle to get her embryo airline off the ground, literally as well as figuratively speaking! It had a name, it was true – Condor Airways – and a neat little emblem in the shape of a soaring wing. It had even been able to take on the delivery of some items of freight, using one of the existing aeroplanes, and Sarah had enthusiastically arranged the details of a contract to deliver Cornish cream and freshly caught sea fish for a high-class London restaurant, and another, for the summer months only, to fly in fresh fruit, vegetables and cut flowers. But the launch of the service for fare paying passengers seemed as far away as ever.
In moments when impatience was not making her fume and fret Sarah knew that there was no way the venture could be hurried if it was to be a success. For years now the factory had been geared to building fighter and bomber aeroplanes – there was nothing even remotely suitable for the transportation of ladies and gentlemen of means. The only answer was to produce something purpose built – large enough to seat perhaps ten passengers in reasonable comfort.
The challenge this presented had delighted Max. He had been feeling aimless and curiously bereft since the declaration of peace and he threw himself enthusiastically into plans for the new ‘airliner’, locking himself up in his drawing office to ensure he would not be interrupted and remaining there for days on end. Now at last the plans for the prototype were complete and the factory was working around the clock to produce it – an impressive conversion of one of Max’s most successful bomber designs, with a spacious wooden fuselage to provide a good-sized passenger cabin and a neat enclosed flight deck.
‘Personally I don’t think that will work,’ Adam had said doubtfully. ‘Being enclosed is bound to limit the pilot’s vision – and besides, I should hate not to be able to hear the wind in the wires.’
At that time Sarah had thought the sentiment oddly romantic and out of character coming from the down to earth Adam but now as she flew the little trainer high above the rolling countryside she found herself remembering his words and knowing exactly what he meant. There was something almost ethereal about the sound, the high pitched constant hum which seemed to surround her, coming from nowhere, going nowhere, just a haunting vibration that might have been the voice of the sky itself. Oh yes, it would be sad not to be able to hear the wind in the wires. How could anyone fly without it? Knowing Max she could imagine the arguments he would put forward for an enclosed cockpit – comfort, protection from the elements, progress – but then he had never known the pleasure of actually flying one of the aircraft he designed.
Sad for Max, she let her eye wander over the expanse of countryside beneath her wing tips, the fields spread out in their patchwork of ‘the forty shades of green’, a long u
ndulating hillside, a valley golden with corn. The hedges looked like lines drawn with a thick pencil, a river glinted briefly before disappearing into a thick overhang of protective branches. And above it all, around her, the sky deep blue for late afternoon and the sun ready to dip behind the distant hills. Peace, perfect peace …
Quite suddenly Sarah caught a faint whiff of burning. She wrinkled her nose and sniffed, wondering if Adam had noticed it and if it was worth drawing his attention to it. Then, to her dismay, the engine began to race. Automatically she pulled back on the throttle. Nothing. Disbelieving, she pulled back again. Still nothing. The whine of the wind in the wires was very loud indeed and she realised it was because the engine had gone silent. She experienced a moment’s pure panic, then Adam called over his shoulder: ‘ I’ve got it.’
The ground raced up at them, the hedges taking definite shape, the thick reeds along the bank of the river visible to the naked eye. Immediately in front of them was a field of corn, tall, golden, waving gently in the teasing breeze. The wheels of the training plane seemed to skim it and Sarah braced herself. Then with a thud and a jolt they were down, the wheels locking, the nose burying itself in the corn. For a moment Sarah sat without moving, watching Adam climb down from the front cockpit and circle the plane, assessing the damage. Then she leaped up, eyes wide, close to tears.
‘What did I do?’
He ignored her, bending down to examine the undercarriage.
‘Damnation! I haven’t done that much good! What a mess!’
‘Adam – what did I do?’ she demanded shrilly.
He looked up, surprised by her violent wail of self-condemnation.
‘You? Nothing.’
‘Then what …’
‘We lost a propeller – God knows why. Come on, you might as well get down from there. I’m afraid that machine won’t be going anywhere in a hurry.’ He helped her out of the cockpit. Her knees almost gave way and he steadied her. ‘All right?’