Twenty-Five
They spent a lovely evening together, talking and becoming quite close as they enjoyed a delicious dinner of tomato soup followed by roast chicken.
‘Would you like a dessert?’ he asked with a smile.
‘That was a lovely meal, but no thank you. I test and taste far more cakes and puddings than I should,’ she said, giving a little chuckle. ‘I’m so appreciative of your trust in my baking, Hugh. So good of you to agree to my suggestion.’
Taking her hand, he stroked her knuckles with his thumb. ‘Even if you can’t find the necessary paperwork, I felt I owed it to you, and to Jack. Winning round Melissa, however, might take a little longer.’
A bubble of laughter erupted from her. ‘That doesn’t exactly surprise me. You often seem very stern and ponderous too. Is it a family trait?’
He was grinning at her now, and joining in her laughter. ‘Could be, but I’m working on it. I promise I’ll be much more agreeable and tolerant in future.’
‘That’s good to know.’ Their eyes met in a compelling gaze, one that lurched her heart.
‘I admit our father could be very controlling, very much lord of the manor. Jack hated that attitude but I was still very fond of him, eager to please him and make him proud, which didn’t always work. His condescending attitude tended to diminish my faith in myself. But now it’s time to focus upon the present, instead of reliving the past.’
‘I do agree, although it is easier said than done,’ Brenda conceded. ‘Loss of a loved one is so hard to live with. It’s like having a big black hole in your life, into which you keep falling. I know we’ve both suffered anguish, as have thousands of other people. I’d like to show you something. It’s a letter I’ve received recently from my good friend Emma, with whom I was incarcerated. We still keep in touch and she is very supportive. It concerns lost children, mainly Jewish, but I can entirely empathise with their loss as I worked with them for a time during the war. Around a million have been killed and hundreds more are missing.’
‘So I have heard.’ Giving a sad little nod, he took the letter from her and began to read.
‘Dear Brenda,
I was so sorry to hear you are still having problems finding Tommy. Don’t believe for a moment that all hope is lost. I can imagine you must be in deep anguish. Do battle on, despite the difficulties. I may have some news for you but let me start by saying that people are now often taking foster parents to court, facing a long and complicated legal battle over custody. Even then the rescuers sometimes defy the court’s ruling and disappear off the face of the earth, which is heartrending even if this time it is out of love and not money. Do you remember how we suffered similar issues back in France when they’d take the money, then hand the child over to the Nazis? What selfish brutes some folk can be. And there are still so many lost children.
As you know, I’m back in France helping the OSE and have found a small boy called Thomas, currently in an orphanage here, whose parents I cannot locate. I wonder if he could be your son. I’ve enclosed a small snap of him so you can decide whether he bears any resemblance to your darling Jack.
At least the traumas I have to deal with are giving me a new purpose in life, doing what I can to help others. You must feel yours has entirely collapsed. I do hope the new job helps you to rebuild it. As far as Adèle is concerned, I’ve put out notices in various places, hoping someone might know her. Fingers crossed. I’ll be in touch if I hear anything. And do let me know if you wish to meet this boy.
Love, Emma.’
Hugh looked at her with sympathy in his eyes. ‘Good lord, I never fully appreciated how much these children suffered. Do you think this boy could be your son?’
Handing him the photo, Brenda gave a bleak smile. ‘This news did come as something of a shock, and since Tommy was a tiny baby when last I saw him, how can I know? But as you must remember Jack as a child, do tell me what you think.’
He gazed upon the picture for some time before finally shaking his head. ‘I’m not convinced. This child’s hair is too dark, as are his eyes, and he doesn’t have our nose.’
Brenda gave a resigned sigh as she slipped the photo back into the envelope. ‘That’s what I thought.’
‘You two ladies must have been through a great deal together, yet how brave she must be to still be determined to help these families. But then you too are extremely courageous, lively and good humoured, despite all you have been through. I can see exactly why Jack loved you.’
Her eyes glazed over as yet again she revisited the past. ‘We spent a wonderful few months in Paris; the sun shining, flowers blooming everywhere. We’d walk around the narrow cobblestoned streets and gardens in Montmartre, or sit drinking coffee, so relaxed and happily enjoying ourselves.
‘Then war was declared and it was one night when we were at the cinema, watching a Maurice Chevalier movie, when we heard the first explosions. We cuddled up close and didn’t let it bother us. But when we came out we found the streets deserted and the sky filled with streamers of light. A man came running over to tell us there was an air raid going on and that we should get into a shelter. We ran for cover, oddly enough giggling as if it were some sort of joke. Only later, when we walked home and found a house bombed and some people injured, did reality dawn. It was then that he asked me to marry him. “We might not have much time left, my darling, so we’d best stop worrying about not having any money and get married right away,” he said. And so we did.’
Brenda went on to talk about their wedding; how his mother had loaned her a beautiful tiered gown of cream silk. ‘The most beautiful garment I’ve ever worn in my life. After the service the three of us enjoyed a wonderful meal together at the Hôtel Ritz, again at Camille’s expense. She was so sweet and generous. Once the Germans occupied Paris that building was taken over by the Luftwaffe, of course. By then we’d been married for over six months. We’d had no honeymoon but spent every possible moment we could together, until Jack joined the Resistance. After his death I gave birth to Tommy in November 1940, again with your mother’s help.’
He listened to her tale enraptured, giving a sympathetic little smile. ‘I hope you eventually do find your son.’
Folding the letter up, Brenda stuffed it into her bag. ‘As you said, Hugh, we need to focus upon the present and put the past behind us. The war is over and we must live with the consequences of it. It’s time we changed the subject. Let’s talk business instead.’
She felt deeply grateful that he’d at last been willing to listen to her story, even if there were still some facts about her internment she hadn’t yet told him. Now they happily discussed details of sales over coffee, agreeing on which cakes were proving to be the best sellers and others which could be added in due course to the company’s list. ‘No meringues or cream cakes,’ she said. ‘Not yet. But the Lancashire Parkin, Eccles cakes and others I’ve listed here have sold well, as have the individual Christmas puddings.’
‘The list will obviously change from season to season, but I think this one will work well for the winter,’ he agreed.
‘And I would like to do a bit of rearrangement of working hours and conditions,’ she said. ‘Do you trust me enough to allow me to do that?’ She met his grey-eyed gaze, her heart pumping with excitement as she saw how his mouth curled into a bewitching smile.
‘I think women are much better at organising such routines than men are. So yes, set out your plan and we’ll talk it through.’
They drove back largely in silence, as with Carson at the wheel they were cautious about what they said or did. Sitting beside Hugh on the back seat Brenda was all too aware of the warmth of his closeness, and felt his hand slide over to capture hers. As they stepped out of the car, he waited until Carson had driven off. Then pulling her into his arms he kissed her, this time with more passion, his heart vibrating against her rib-cage. Brenda’s heart soared with joy, the sweetness of him running through her like fire, making her respond with eager desire. Someth
ing strange and wonderful had happened to them today and she so wanted it to go on.
When the kiss ended he opened the door to lead her into the hall. ‘Goodnight,’ he softly murmured. ‘Sleep well.’
Flushed from his kissing, she slanted a teasing glance up at him. ‘I might not manage to sleep a wink after that. But thank you, it’s been a wonderful evening. See you tomorrow.’
That night she suffered no nightmares, only dreams of love, feeling a surge of relief that in spite of all the assaults she’d suffered in the past from men, she still felt the need for love. But the man who was kissing her in the dream was not Jack.
*
The next day Brenda began to make a list of necessary improvements to the daily routine of the women bakers, for whom she was now largely responsible. Their first task each morning was to check the orders required to be baked that day, then weigh out the necessary ingredients. After that they would prepare the dough and mix the ingredients for the buns, cakes or puddings. By early afternoon they would clean the kitchen area, as hygiene was of vital importance. All dishes, cake trays and utensils also had to be scrubbed and cleaned. Finally they would need to check that the right ingredients were available for the next day. Once that was done, in theory they were allowed to leave by three o’clock. More often than not they were late finishing, which irritated them enormously. Perfectly understandable, when these women had been working since six or seven o’clock.
And there appeared to be other problems. She could see it in their faces as they worked. Yet it was vital that these women be content with the work and how the system operated. Brenda decided she needed to investigate, and during one dinner hour began to ask them how they were finding things, and if anything needed adjusting. When the question was met by silence she turned to the young woman she’d met in the main kitchen on her first visit to the factory.
‘I remember you saying that it was so hot working in the kitchen that you needed to drink a lot of water, whenever you got the chance,’ Brenda asked. ‘Are you saying water is not always available?’
Glancing across at the man seated at the next table who was in charge of the kitchen, she gave a little shrug. ‘We sometimes get one eventually, if we ask often enough. Although one lady didn’t and fainted, banging her head on the side of a table.’
‘Goodness, that doesn’t sound right,’ Brenda said, giving a slight frown. ‘Surely water should be there for whenever you need it. I’ll look into that,’ and she made a note on her pad. ‘Are there any other problems?’
A woman edged nearer to join in the conversation. ‘This factory being so large, we have to walk up and down those bloody stairs to the stock room endless times every day just to collect the necessary ingredients. Wears us out.’
‘I’d noticed that,’ Brenda admitted.
‘Aye, and a friend of mine fell down the stairs as she struggled to carry a bag of one hundred weight of flour. Even the equipment is too big and heavy for us women to lift. The mixing bowls are huge, and the tables upon which we work are far too high, so it’s not easy to roll out the dough comfortably. This place was set up for men, not women.’
‘Aye, that’s right,’ another woman said. ‘Having stuff stacked on a handy shelf would make our lives a lot easier.’
The list was growing. Even time off for lunch or a visit to the lavatory didn’t seem too good either, being somewhat restricted. The washing facilities were very male orientated, and there was a shortage of toilets. In view of Brenda’s memories of the internment camp, she was most sympathetic about such complaints.
Speaking to Hugh later in his office, she pointed these problems out to him.
His response was slightly derisory. ‘Women always like to grumble.’
‘That’s not quite fair. All of this baking should be carried out in a room specially converted into a brand-new baking kitchen, with all the right equipment and special ovens for the task.’
‘Unfortunately, that is not possible.’
‘I perfectly understand your reluctance to take out a loan when you’re already in debt, but the production schedule is something of a problem since we have to share the main ovens. Cakes, parkin and fruit loaves are kept waiting for hours because the ovens are full of biscuits. That does them no good at all. I agree that items which are quick to bake should be done early in the day, but fitting everything in is becoming well nigh impossible. I cannot persuade the chaps in charge to agree to accommodate us. So, ideally we do need our own kitchen.’
‘I’m afraid we don’t have the necessary funds to do such a thing, so the ladies will just have to put up with reality. It’s profits that count at the end of the day, otherwise they’d all be out of a job.’
‘How can we achieve the necessary profits if production is not working properly? You should look upon it as an investment in the future of the business. These women also have to be quite tough. The equipment they use is far too heavy,’ she reminded him.
‘They all seem pretty fit and strong to me. As for you…’
Her eyes focused upon his chiselled chin and the way his mouth lifted into an impish grin, but she kept firmly to her point. ‘Bakery life is hard. Are you deliberately being difficult?’ she challenged him, hands upon her hips. ‘Workers’ requirements should be listened to and their needs taken into account.’
Giving a burst of laughter, he put his arms around her to pull her close. ‘I love engaging in conversation with you when you’re in one of your feisty moods. It’s such fun.’ His grey eyes darkened as he lowered his head to capture her mouth with his. A tremor of excitement flowed through her, her skin seeming to flare with desire at his touch.
‘Behave! There might be somebody watching,’ she said, quickly freeing herself, cheeks flushed. ‘Can we concentrate on what I’m saying, please?’
‘Of course, I beg your pardon. I’m just finding you completely irresistible.’
She looked up at him, finding his dazzling smile equally entrancing. Something was most definitely happening between them, an emotion she found difficult to justify. Was her attraction to Jack’s brother a good thing or entirely wrong?
‘I’m fully aware of the lack of satisfaction within the ranks, having suffered from a recent strike,’ he said. ‘Do whatever you feel is necessary to make life more comfortable for our workers, particularly the women, as you understand their situation and requirements much better than I, a mere male, could ever do. And I will look into the question of converting one of the old work-rooms into a new kitchen, and provide a more accessible stock room.’
Meeting his gaze with a relieved smile, she nodded. ‘That would be wonderful, and most generous of you, Hugh. It’s good to see that at heart you are indeed a kind man after all.’
‘Just as you are a delightful, hard-working lady, happy to put the needs of others before your own, and honest to the core. I think we’re coming a little closer to understanding each other, don’t you?’ He kissed the tip of her nose, then chuckled as she walked staunchly away, notepad in hand.
Twenty-Six
Melissa sat in the solicitor’s office and demanded he support her decision not to allow this cheat of a woman to become involved in the family business, explaining how it could damage her children’s inheritance. She felt desperate to rid herself of this harlot, so surely this fellow could help. There were other issues besides money, but as some family matters needed to be kept private, she didn’t say a word about them to Fairhurst.
‘Since she has no satisfactory proof of her identity or whether she really was married to my brother, why would I agree to that?’ she haughtily remarked. ‘She’s just a piece of baggage looking for a pot of cash.’
Clearing his throat, Mr Fairhurst took off his glasses to give them a brisk polish. Then slipping them back on again, blinked at her with his faded grey eyes. ‘We did our best to find the necessary papers but they’ve gone for good. Even in this country many archives have been damaged or destroyed and documents lost. However, Jack did name
her in his will as his wife, and left her shares in the company, so it could be that any protest you make would be deemed inappropriate in the circumstances. You have no more proof that she is lying than Miss Brenda has to prove she’s telling the truth.’
Melissa felt as if she’d been slapped in the face. How dare this fellow say such things to her? ‘You’re sounding as bad as Hugh. Are you seriously claiming you prefer to believe this charlatan rather than me, despite having worked for our family for years? Quite outrageous! My husband would most certainly have something to say about that attitude.’
Giving a mincing little smile, he quickly apologised. ‘We can try looking into the issue again, if you wish, milady, but can offer no guarantees.’
Glancing up at the wall clock, as if she really hadn’t time for all this nonsense, she pulled on her gloves. ‘There’s no need for that. I appreciate you’ve done whatever is necessary. Just make it clear to my brother, whom she’s now attempting to seduce, that without such proof she can be given no rights or shares in the family business, or take any part of our inheritance.’ Now she forced crocodile tears to form in her eyes, and pulling a handkerchief from her bag delicately dabbed at them. ‘You should be aware that she has also attempted to offer favours to my husband.’
‘Goodness!’ The family solicitor looked quite shocked by this news. ‘Are you sure about that?’
Melissa gave a melodramatic little sigh, blinking hard to make the tears slide down her cheeks. ‘I heard her talking to him out on the landing one night, opened the door and saw how she’d wrapped herself into his arms. There is no doubt about it, she is a harlot of the worst quarter.’
Not for a moment would Melissa admit that it was actually her husband she’d seen clenching the girl in his arms, kissing and fondling her while the chit firmly resisted, and thumped him off. But then it wasn’t the first time she’d seen Gregory paw a girl, particularly when drunk, as he’d been on that occasion. She’d just turned eighteen when she married him, naively believing he worshipped and adored her, when in actual reality he was probably only after her money and status. She’d done everything she could to excite and please him, as she had the other night when she suspected he’d paid that chit a visit, but to no avail. He was a real man-about-town, a philanderer of the worst degree. So why should she not use everything in her power to rid herself of this madam? Melissa decided she would do whatever was necessary, no matter what the risk.
Always In My Heart Page 20