A Woman of Courage

by J. H. Fletcher

  She sat on the bench and looked across the harbour. A distant factory whistle echoed and the scent of the roses was strong in the morning air. That scent normally gave her huge pleasure but today less so than usual: responsibility had seldom been a burden to her but at this moment she knew she was holding the company’s future in her hands and it was heavy.

  She got up. She paced across the manicured lawn to the water’s edge and back again. And again down. Emil Broussard’s return was not the only problem; Sara was insisting on being told why Hilary had decided to move on.

  Was there something wrong with the company? With her health? No, there was nothing wrong with the company and she was unwilling to admit there was anything wrong with her health either.

  ‘Why are you doing it, then?’

  ‘Because it is the right time for the company and the right time for me.’

  She had refused to say more but it troubled her that Sara had felt the need to ask. If Sara turned her down, who else was there to succeed her in the longer term, after Vivienne too decided to call it a day?

  All her life, since she had been in the position to choose her own path, the courage to accept calculated risks had been the governing factor in everything she had done. That lesson she had learnt at the Pattinsons, as she had acknowledged when she helped Tim buy the farm after his brother Brett, who’d inherited when his father died, had been killed by a boar. Courage was the key.

  1961–65

  UP THE LADDER AND DOWN THE SNAKE

  1

  The way Sean went at her in the early days Hilary was amazed she didn’t fall pregnant ten times over, but she didn’t. Half of her was sorry, half thought it was just as well. A family would be nice but later. In the meantime she had a fortune to make.

  She went at it full throttle. In three months she had made a name for herself.

  ‘Can’t believe it,’ Jack Almond told his wife. ‘No sealed roads, no nothing, and she’s selling them like there’s no tomorrow.’

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you?’ said his wife. ‘We women can do things you men can’t even dream of.’

  They’d all wondered how the customers might react to a woman doing a man’s job but it seemed Hilary’s fluttering eyelashes (to say nothing of her nous and general ability) took care of that. Whatever the reason, she was selling plenty, all sorts of people eager to respond to her sign advertising cheap land.

  One bloke tried to give her a hard time. ‘How many blocks are you in for, darling?’

  ‘Four so far.’ She gave him a look. ‘Sweetheart.’

  He laughed. ‘You must really believe in the product,’ he said. ‘Why?’

  ‘The roads are coming. The services. When they do, these blocks will all double in price. Or more, most likely.’

  ‘You sold me,’ he said. ‘But if things go wrong I’ll come a-calling.’

  ‘They won’t,’ Hilary said. ‘You come back later but it’ll be to buy more and I’ll charge you double.’

  He bought two blocks.

  ‘That’s the way,’ Hilary said.

  ‘Are you really in for four?’

  ‘Darn right.’

  Because she’d not blown her commission, like most of the sales force. Hilary Brand was going places and didn’t care who knew it.

  There were hazards in being a woman, as if she hadn’t known already. It wasn’t long before a potential customer decided he was more interested in the sales lady than the product.

  ‘You’re cute,’ she said. ‘But I wouldn’t do that, I was you.’

  ‘Why not?’ Laughing, still looking for a feel.

  ‘My husband wouldn’t like it.’

  ‘It’s not your husband I’m interested in.’

  ‘Of course not. The only thing, he’s a boxer. They call him Ironfist. The last bloke he fought ended up in the hospital. You don’t want your face rearranged, do you?’

  Which put paid to that but she still sold him a block. Born diplomat, she thought. That’s me.

  She drove to work a different way every day, door knocking in evenings and weekends, when people were at home. Cheap Land for Sale: it worked like a charm. Long hours and still longer hours. It was paying off but Sean didn’t like it.

  ‘A woman’s place is in the home,’ he said, echoing his mother, who thought there was something indecent about a married woman working anywhere else.

  She said as much to Hilary. ‘My husband told me to leave my job the day we married. Sean should have told you the same.’

  Hilary only smiled but her mother-in-law had not done with her.

  ‘And still no baby,’ she said. Again and again she said it; a proper grouser, that one. ‘Why did you marry him if you didn’t want a home and a family?’

  ‘To save on the rent,’ said Hilary.

  It was a joke but Mrs Madigan decided she meant it. ‘I rue the day my son got involved with you,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Hilary said. ‘We’ve bought our own house, remember? We’re doing all right.’

  Three bedrooms, too. Bigger than anything you ever had, Mrs M. On a big block we can develop later.

  ‘For the moment,’ Mrs Madigan said.

  ‘That’s right.’

  For the moment she was forging ahead – not that Mrs Madigan would ever admit that.

  Mrs Madigan spoke to Sean and Sean spoke to Hilary.

  ‘Why can’t you be nice to her?’

  ‘When is she ever nice to me?’

  ‘I hate rows,’ he said.

  ‘It’s our marriage, not hers,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you tell her to back off?’

  She was beginning to see that Sean wasn’t game to do it. It made her uneasy but she refused to acknowledge it. I’ll put some ginger into him yet, she thought.

  She told herself she loved her husband. She wanted them to be happy together, to have children together, but it would be when they were ready for them, not simply to suit her bloody mother-in-law.

  She had no intention of giving up on the real estate business. It felt right, the timing was right, she knew she was good at it, she was convinced that the property business offered her the best chance to find what she had already said was her highway to the stars.

  It was her husband, her future and she would wage war against Mrs Madigan and anyone else who tried to take them from her. Let no one doubt it.

  2

  She worked harder than ever. Mostly it was to get ahead in her chosen career but there were days when she forced herself to run faster and faster simply to drown out the doubts that were coming more and more to poison her mind.

  She wanted her husband to be strong, to stand up for them both against his mother’s endless nagging. She wanted him to tell Mrs Madigan to butt out of their lives – she would never do it voluntarily – but the old hag had done such a good job emasculating her husband and son that Hilary was coming seriously to question whether Sean was up to the job.

  ‘I love you but you must stand up to her too,’ she said. ‘I can’t do it alone.’

  ‘I will.’

  But he did not and Hilary’s doubts grew stronger by the day.

  Sean had no doubts, or so he said. ‘We are one. United. Now and always.’

  Hilary did not want that. She was coming to see that Sean wanted her to have no will to be anything but his. ‘I have to be free.’

  She implored him to understand. He did not. He wanted his wife to be a prisoner, which meant being a prisoner of her mother-in-law too.

  ‘I’ll drink poison first,’ she said.

  Increasingly she was having reservations about bringing a child into a marriage where she could not be free but once again Sean had no doubts. He wanted a child and wanted it now. She heard his mother’s voice in his constant demands.

  ‘Not yet,’ she told him. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Not good enough for you, am I?’

  And again she heard his mother’s voice.

  Dear God, she thought. What am I going to d
o?

  3

  Jack Almond was impressed by her performance and said so.

  ‘You mean it?’

  ‘Would I say it if I didn’t?’

  She took a deep breath and grabbed what she hoped was an opportunity. ‘Any chance of a partnership?’

  A blank sheet of paper had more expression than Jack Almond then. ‘You’re here five minutes and you want to talk partnership?’

  ‘I’m good. You just said it.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean you’re partner material.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because my wife wouldn’t like it. And because I said no.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Don’t push your luck, Hilary.’

  ‘But I am good,’ she told Sean that night. ‘I’m the best he’s got. He told me so himself.’

  ‘What did you expect?’ Sean said.

  ‘I expected more.’

  ‘From an old Jew like him? Where you been all your life?’

  Things had cooled off between them recently. This had suited Hilary – she had never reached the heights her instinct told her might be scaled if only they got things right – but tonight she needed him, if only to reaffirm her belief in herself and the future.

  ‘Come here, baby…’

  Willing him to get it right, clenching her eyes as she fought for the release that she could sense but never quite reach.

  ‘Come on, come on!’ Panting. ‘Don’t stop, Sean! I’ll kill you if you stop!’

  No good; in her heart she had expected no better. She felt him thrusting more and more frantically, knew he was on the same old surge, unable or unwilling to slow down, to wait for her, but Sean had left her far behind and within no more than two minutes…

  ‘Ah… Ah… Ah…’

  It was over.

  Her husband lay inert, log heavy, crushing her. He raised his head to look at her. ‘Was it good for you?’

  Her lips formed a smile. ‘Wonderful,’ she said.

  Later she lay watching the darkness with Sean snoring beside her. ‘I’ll give it a month,’ she told herself.

  And did, with the same dusty answer. Again Jack said it. ‘Don’t push your luck, Hilary…’

  ‘You must have it out with him,’ Sean said. ‘He knows what you’re worth. What are you after, five per cent? That’s peanuts! Tell him if he doesn’t give it to you you’ll move on.’

  She thought about it, decided Sean was right. Partner in a real estate business… It would show Mrs Madigan, if nothing else. She had another good week. The commission was great but the prize was no nearer. She thought the air between her and Jack might be a bit cooler than before but decided to give it one more go. If you still say no I’ll have to consider my future. She tried out the phrase, decided it felt good.

  She knocked on Jack’s door, went in before he could respond.

  She put it to him, polite but firm. ‘Five per cent,’ she said. ‘Just a token.’ Now she was the one on the helter-skelter, rushing forward, unable to stop. She brought out her polished phrase. ‘If you can’t see your way to agreeing, Jack…’ She looked at him but his face was giving nothing away. ‘I’ll have to consider my future.’

  And waited.

  ‘Tell you what I’ll do,’ Jack said.

  Her heart leapt, knowing she’d won.

  ‘No need to consider,’ Jack said. ‘I’ll save you the trouble. Finish up Friday.’

  ‘What?’

  Best sales person or not, she was out.

  Oh my God.

  She went home, feeling six inches high.

  ‘He can’t do that!’ Sean said.

  ‘He’s done it.’

  ‘Don’t you believe it. It’s a try on. Come Friday he’ll have you in, tell you he wants you to stay. Why not? You said it yourself: you’re the best he’s got.’

  She worked herself up to believe it. It made sense, didn’t it? She knew she was the best; Jack knew it too. Of course he would come round, she was confident of that. Come Friday she went into the office, all smiles.

  ‘Jack wants to see you,’ his secretary said.

  ‘I thought he might.’

  She went into Jack’s office. ‘You were looking for me?’

  He handed her an envelope. ‘I think you’ll find that’s everything we owe you.’

  Hilary felt her future crumbling beneath her feet. ‘But…’

  Jack’s face was implacable. ‘I wanted to wish you all the best.’

  It was over.

  Stunned, she went home through a suddenly hostile world. What would she do now?

  4

  Mrs Madigan told her soon enough. Triumphant Mrs Madigan thought all her Christmases had come at once. ‘Maybe that’ll teach you not to be so cocky in future. Now maybe you’ll settle down and be a proper wife to my son.’

  ‘In your dreams,’ said Hilary. Of course words were cheap.

  ‘We got debts,’ Sean said. ‘Mortgage on the house; all that land you’re paying off. What we going to do?’

  Sean had never been an ideas man. No matter. Getting the push had come as a shock but already she was over the worst of it. Funny thing: she’d thought she’d be terrified but it wasn’t like that at all. She felt relief. Now she could rely only on herself. She would show them.

  ‘I tell you what I’m going to do,’ she said. ‘I am going to sleep on it. In the morning I shall start making plans.’

  ‘You just lost your job,’ Sean said. ‘How you going to sleep after that?’

  Hilary only smiled; she would sleep all right. And in bed later, when Sean decided to come on to her, she pushed him away. She had needed him the other day but not now. ‘Leave me be, Sean. Like I said, I’ve got to sleep.’

  The next morning she went walkabout. The only business she knew was selling real estate but if she were going to set up her own operation she would need a base. Two days later she found what she was looking for: an empty shop fronting a busy road. She located the agent – luckily not Jack Almond – and found out what the owner wanted for a two-year lease. Based on her sales record with Jack she reckoned she could manage it easily enough. Even so her heart was in her throat when she signed the papers. She’d better not muck up now.

  ‘Of course I won’t muck up,’ she told herself and the world.

  ‘I need you to help me,’ she said to Sean that night.

  ‘How?’

  ‘A paint job.’

  Because the inside of the shop looked more like a rubbish tip than a real estate office.

  ‘It’ll take a week,’ Sean said when he’d seen the place.

  ‘One weekend,’ she said. ‘We’ve got to get moving.’

  ‘Can’t be done.’

  ‘Get some of your mates to give you a hand.’

  He hesitated. ‘They’ll want to know what’s in it for them.’

  ‘A free piss up. But only when it’s finished. And make sure they do it properly.’

  ‘You going to help?’

  ‘I’ve got better things to do.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like scouring the neighbourhood for deals.’

  But to begin with things didn’t look too rosy.

  Before she’d been working for Jack Almond, a well-regarded local; now she was just a sheila and an easterner at that. She could see blokes asking themselves why they should deal with her.

  I should have thought of that, she told herself. She needed a sandgroper on the team.

  She’d kept a record of all the sales she’d made, a filing box of cards giving the names, addresses and contact numbers of every person she’d dealt with. She suspected she had no right to the information but now was not the time to be picky about legal niceties. That night she sat up scouring the names and came up with a couple she thought might have potential.

  She phoned them in turn to see if either might be interested in coming to work with her but got a dusty answer from both.

  ‘Give up a paying job to come in with a mob no one’s ever
heard of?’ the first one said. ‘You got to be dreaming.’

  The second one agreed.

  ‘What you gunna do now?’ Sean asked.

  ‘God knows.’

  And with the rent to pay every month he’d better let her in on the secret pretty soon or it would be all over before it had started.

  2004

  BETRAYAL

  1

  Friendly but firm, Jennifer had told herself. But when she sat down with Anthony Belloc at the corner table in a different café all her good resolutions flew out of the window. Flustered was perhaps a better word to describe the way she was feeling.

  She put on her brightest voice while her heart went pit-a-pat. ‘I have never been here before.’

  ‘That’s why we’re here now.’

  This man was trying to make use of her and was therefore dangerous. Her life was in a state of flux. The desire she had felt for Anthony at their first meeting; the moment at the window of the hotel when she had come close to behaving so outrageously; the penthouse lunch with Mother telling her she was thinking of offering Martin Gulliver a job, saying It’s never too late if you want something enough; Davis’s contemptuous indifference on her return home and the violence of her reaction; Tessa telling her so gleefully about Juanita Santos; all these things had come together at this moment and with this man. She was driven by an overwhelming need to break through the walls behind which she had been incarcerated so long; if that meant betraying both Mother and herself then so be it.

  She shifted on her chair, feeling the flames of her hidden excitement lick higher. One could be burnt by such flames, Jennifer thought, but did not care. If Anthony Belloc were to offer to take her to a hotel at that moment she would go, and gladly. Even a one-night stand would do, she thought. It would not last – she would not want it to last – but for the moment it would offer at least the pretence of love to freshen the desert of her life.

  She had never known herself think in such poetic terms; poetry in any form had never appealed to her whereas Mother, she remembered, was always dipping into books of verse. She felt uneasy at the intrusion of such imagery into her thoughts but smiled at this dangerous man whom her husband had called a crook. He was wearing a beautifully made grey suit, a white shirt and what might be a club tie. He looked like a man who got things done. I would like him to do things to me, she thought as she sipped coffee from the cup the waitress had brought.