by Fleur Beale
‘It’s not something that would remotely interest you.’
I left her alone with her bright flowers and went inside to invite myself to dinner at Dad and Iris’s again. Only a few months ago I’d have eaten a burger under a bridge rather than be anywhere near my stepmother. Life’s a bucket of surprises, that’s for sure.
I was still seething about Mum when I got there, but when I spat it all out, Dad laughed fit to split his operation open. ‘It’s a share club. They were big a few decades ago, but Clarissa’s stuck with hers like a dog with a bone. She’s right into all that wheeling and dealing, and to give her her due she’s damn good at it. It’s never made her happy, though. Now, come and tell me what’s happening at work.’
I fired up their computer and showed him the photos I’d put on Facebook of Maurice’s nativity figures.
‘Waste of time,’ he snapped. ‘You can’t charge this out. All those hours with nothing to show for them.’
I swung round to eyeball him. ‘Just like those tables we’re giving away for less than cost, for example?’
He glared right back at me, then deflated. ‘Okay. You’ve made your point.’
‘Dad, listen. There was no work for Maurice and Alton, but I didn’t want them to hang about feeling useless. I told them to make toys with the docked ends. Maurice made the nativity scene. I know it’s not what you’d have done, but I couldn’t see what else to do.’ I didn’t mention Alton’s rep trip, or tell him about the miniature table — there was only so much the guy could take.
He sniffed and patted my hand. ‘You’ve got a good heart, Bess. A good head, and a good heart.’
Iris rolled her eyes at me, but she was smiling.
We’d just finished dinner when there was a knock on the door. It was Alton, looking fit to burst. ‘Sorry to barge in, but I figured you’d be here, Bess. We’ve got another order! A coffee table with drawers. Cautious interest from the other places.’
I beamed at him. ‘Fantastic. Was it your table that made the difference?’
‘Yeah, I reckon it was. Satherthwaites — they placed the order — the boss there said the design was right. Clean, classic and modern was what he said.’
We sat there, grinning at each other while Dad and Iris looked bewildered.
‘Have you told the men?’ I asked.
‘Not yet. No time. Had the kids’ school barbecue tonight. It’s all been full-on.’
‘We’ll tell them now.’ I reached for the phone, and caught Dad’s eye. ‘Alton made a miniature—’
‘It’s in the car. I’ll show you.’
Dad cleared his throat. Iris hid a smile behind her hair.
Alton came back, removed the table from its carrying case and put it in Dad’s hands. We all watched as he turned it over, looked at it from every angle — then finally smiled. ‘Beautiful. Top-class work. Well done, Alton. One of Eddy’s designs, is it?’
‘Yep. He’s got the eye. He’s good.’
Dad sighed. ‘No lathe work though.’
Alton kept quiet.
I said, ‘Bernie seems to think Jason will work out.’
Dad perked up again. ‘I’ll put Eddy in charge of the design side from now on. Can you talk it over with him tomorrow, Bess?’
‘You’ll probably hear him from here,’ I said. ‘He’ll be that excited.’
Alton stood up. ‘Home time for me. By the way, Bess, I got the tablet. It’ll be all fired up and ready to go by the morning. I’ll bring it in first thing.’
‘What tablet?’ Dad asked, as soon as Alton had gone. He looked furious all over again. ‘Have you been wasting money on one of those rubbishy computer pad things?’
Iris sighed. ‘Sit down, Charlie. This is the twenty-first century. You might need to dabble a toe in the water of the electronic age.’
‘We didn’t have brochures to take around—’ I began.
‘There are a stack of them. In the filing cabinet under B. For brochure.’
‘Well, I didn’t know that. And anyway, Dad, it’s no good trying to get firms to buy the old designs. We’re still trying to sell off those tables. Eddy drew up some of his designs, we put them on the tablet. He and Alton used that instead of brochures.’
Iris sat on the edge of her chair, ready to wrestle Dad into this century if she had to, but he sat shaking his head, and there was even a hint of a smile. ‘Well, well. Knock me down with a feather. Different times, different methods. I can get my head around that.’
‘Just give you a century or two?’ I asked.
THE NEXT DAY, I bought morning tea from Lisette to celebrate another order, and watched in awe as the men put away more cakes, pastries and sausage rolls than it seemed possible would fit in a human stomach. Jason sat turned with his back towards me and said nothing, even when conversation turned to plans for the day. I ignored him for a moment while I sorted out work for Alton on the insurance job.
‘We mightn’t get it,’ I said, ‘but it’s not going to cost us hugely in materials, is it?’
Alton shook his head. ‘No, not too much. It’s the time that puts the price up. Ladder-backed chairs. Fiddly. Just what I like.’
‘Good. You get started, and if something else comes in, we’ll put the chair in storage.’ I turned to Jason’s back. ‘How’s your work going, Jason?’
He shrugged and kept on with the silence. Bernie tapped him on the shoulder. ‘It looked to me like Bess asked you a question, mate.’
He grunted. I decided not to push it. ‘I’ll do the dishes today. A special favour for a terrific bunch of blokes.’ Jason could include himself in that or not as he pleased.
Clint, Alton, Eddy and Bernie carried their cups to the sink, and cleared the table of plates, sugar and milk. Jason left his cup on the table.
The little shit! This was deliberate, and he might as well have shoved a finger in the air.
Crunch time. ‘Jason, will you please bring your cup over?’
‘Do it yourself, ya fuckin’ ho!’ He stood, thumped his chair on the floor and stomped over to the door.
For one electric second none of the rest of us moved — even Bernie, who wouldn’t have been able to hear Jason’s words. Then Maurice reached out to clamp a fist on Jason’s shoulder. ‘Sit right back down, sonny boy,’ he bellowed.
‘We’ll deal with this, Bess,’ said Clint.
‘Take your phone,’ said Eddy. ‘We’ll call you when we’re done.’
I grabbed my phone and ran. Behind me, I heard Clint’s voice, colder than an arctic wind, say, ‘Tell Bernie what you said. Go on, shout it out loud. You had no problem saying it to Bess. You go ahead and tell Bernie.’
I had to get out of there. I just ran. I tore down the road as if the hounds of hell were after me, trying to keep his words from beating a tattoo in my brain. They hurt. How come he’d figured it was okay to talk to me like that? What had I done? Sweet bloody nothing except offer him a job. I hoped the men would shred, pickle and eviscerate him.
I ran as far as the rose gardens. The old man was there again sitting on the same bench as before. I sat down beside him, hoping he’d talk to me.
‘Lovely roses.’
‘Aye, it’s a lovely rose, the Peace.’ He sighed and said more to himself than to me, ‘The war took my brother. I look at those roses and I think about him.’
‘I’ve lost my brother too.’
‘It’s a bad thing, war.’
To steer him onto happier topics, I asked, ‘How did the Peace rose get its name?’
He’d forgotten he’d already told me the story only a few days before, but I listened properly this time, asking questions to make sure he kept talking.
Eventually, he smiled at me. ‘It’s a treat to chat to you, young lady.’ He held out his hand. ‘Name’s Wally Earl.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Wally. I’m Bess Grey. Charlie Grey’s daughter.’
A few memories meshed together in his brain. ‘Charlie Grey, eh? You’re Clarissa’s girl then. Fine woman,
Clarissa. Got a sharp brain too.’
‘You’re talking about my mother? Really? How do you know her?’
It was the small town thing again. ‘Went to school with her dad. Knew her from when she was a nipper. She’s a canny investor, Clarissa. Saved my boy a bundle with her advice.’
But just then my phone rang. Talk about being saved by the bell — I was far too gobsmacked even to attempt a reply to that stunning snippet of information. Mum, a fine woman? ‘Excuse me a moment, Mr Earl?’
It was Eddy. ‘Bess? You can come back now. You shouldn’t have any more problems with young Jason. If you want to keep him on, that is.’
Ah yes, a decision still to make. ‘Does he want to stay?’
Eddy gave a laugh. ‘Turns out he does. Really likes it. Make him sweat, is my advice. He’s going to apologise, but make him work for his job.’
‘Okay. Thanks. And Eddy, can you say thanks to the guys too?’
‘Sure thing. Don’t worry. He got both barrels from all of us. You should’ve heard Bernie. Gave him a proper bollocking. Actually, we laid it on the line, all five of us. Shape up or get out. We’re not having that rubbish in our workplace. Specially not to you.’
‘But if I sack him, we don’t have a finisher.’
‘You’d find us another one. Plenty more fish in the sea.’
And on that cheerful vote of confidence, he disconnected.
I turned back to Wally. ‘I’ll tell Mum I met you. Thanks for talking to me.’
‘My pleasure, young lady.’
He’d forgotten my name already. I walked back to the factory, not hurrying. The longer Jason had to worry about his job, the better.
Chapter Eighteen
CLINT LOOKED UP from his workplace near the door when he heard me come in. ‘You okay, Bess?’
‘Yeah. I am. Thanks to you guys.’
‘He’s got some growing up to do, has young Jason. Go into the tearoom. We’ve told the little sod he’s got to apologise. He’s got to mean it, and he’s got to say it in front of all of us.’ He frowned, but looked me square in the face. ‘We’ll be in the cart properly if you send him down the road, but we’re all with you if that’s what you decide.’ He gave a snort. ‘We tore strips off him. Watch out for the blood on the floor.’
I went into the tearoom. The dishes had been done, the bench was immaculate. The men came in and sat down. Half a minute later, Bernie marched in, followed by Jason who seemed shrunken, either from the bollocking he’d had or fear for his job. It could have been both.
He didn’t sit down. He stood at the end of the table with his head down.
‘The floor’s yours, boy,’ Bernie said. ‘Make sure you speak up. I want to hear if you’re worth training.’ Bernie had never, as far as I knew, called Jason a boy before. That would sting.
‘Sorry.’
‘Louder,’ Bernie ordered. ‘And you’ll need to do a sight better than that. I’m warning you.’
Jason cleared his throat. He even made split-second eye contact with me, and his voice was loud enough for Bernie to hear him. ‘Sorry.’
I didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t end up with the whole show in a worse mess. The men kept their mouths shut too, so we sat in silence, watching the prisoner squirm. It was painful.
After a year or seven he said loud enough for Bernie to hear, ‘Sorry I dissed you. Bernie — he says real men show respect. He says I gotta change my attitude.’
Such a long speech deserved a reply. ‘Do you want to keep working here?’
He ducked his head — possibly a nod.
‘How do I know you won’t swear at me again?’
He got busy twisting his hands. ‘Dunno. I just won’t.’
I sat there, watching him squirm while I tried to work out the next step. At last, I turned to Bernie. ‘D’you think we can trust him?’
Clint repeated the question.
Bernie took his time. ‘I’d like to think so, I really would. I’d like to think I’m not wrong in believing he’s a decent person at heart. It’s up to you, Bess. You’re the one he treated appallingly.’
More silence from me, more shuffling and hand-twisting from Jason. The others all looked impassive.
‘Jason,’ I said eventually, feeling as if I were picking my way through a lava field, ‘my father was going to come in on Friday. If he liked your work, he was going to offer you the job.’
Jason lifted his head briefly. ‘It’s good here. I won’t … diss you again.’
Let him sweat. ‘I can’t take that risk. Not without seeing some proof.’ I frowned in the interests of not letting him off the hook too easily. ‘It’ll be up to my father to decide. I’ll give you the rest of this week, and next week, to show me you can behave appropriately. If you can do that, then my dad will come in on Christmas Eve. If he’s happy with your work and your attitude, he’ll offer you the job.’
‘Are you going to tell him?’ He sounded belligerent. Still a way to go, Jason my friend.
‘Am I going to tell him that you called me a fuckin’ ho? Of course I’m going to tell him. He has to be sure you won’t insult every female customer who comes here to order furniture. I’m not impressed so far. You’ll have to do better than this if you want the job.’
I stood up. I’d had enough of him. I doubted he’d last through seven days of politeness. I nodded my thanks to the men, and took myself off to Dad’s office.
Why was my life so goddamned complicated? I felt like yelling and kicking things. Jason, for starters, right into the middle of next century.
I picked up the new tablet and logged on to Facebook. Nothing from Hadleigh. I messaged him: WRITE TO ME. THIS SILENCE IS PATHETIC.
I sent it before I could change my mind.
I checked in on the girls from school. Clodagh had been to a cricket match with Giles. Giles? That had produced a string of comments, all demanding details. Clo described the match for about six replies until she wrote: He’s nice. Met him at the beach. First year uni student. Philosophy and maths. I envied her the boyfriend, her straightforward life and her firm footing in this century.
Strangely, there was a message for me from Mary Jane. MJ had never been one of my favourite people — too much of a princess — and I’d assumed she’d drop me like a hot brick once I’d left school in disgrace.
I clicked on her message. Skimmed it, then read it again carefully. Aunty Lucy’s living in Dubai. Needs a chrissy pressie to give to some big shot. Wants a unique one-off. Is the nativity set for sale?
I replied. Yes, it’s for sale. Is on Trade Me.
That, I guessed would be the last we’d hear of Aunty Lucy. Anyway, we needed more orders — and proper ones, not one-off sidelines like the nativity set. This was a furniture factory, as Dad would no doubt remind me. I rang him, deciding not to mention Jason’s antics. The poor guy could have a few more days of healing before I took the risk of sending his blood pressure skyrocketing.
‘Everything okay, Bess?’
‘Yeah, all good. We do need more orders though, and I was wondering what you usually do. To get them, I mean.’
‘I take the brochures round the shops. Haven’t been down south for a few months, what with one thing and another, but the take-up down there hasn’t been good. It hasn’t been worth the cost of going.’
I didn’t say that flashing around shiny brochures full of the wrong products could be a reason.
‘Okay. We might look at that. Anything else?’
‘Now you listen to me, my girl! We haven’t got the money for you to go tripping around the country. Sorry, kid, but that’s final. Auckland, yes. Hamilton, of course. But going anywhere else is too expensive.’
I swear I saw red in front of my eyes. Possibly it was leftover fury from the Jason episode, but in any case Dad copped it. ‘It bloody is not final. You put me in charge. If I decide we send a rep south, then that’s what we’ll do. I told you, Dad — you’ve got to let me make the decisions. And … and … bloody stop
calling me a kid!’
I slammed the phone down on the desk. Oh god, his blood pressure. I shouldn’t have yelled at him. I picked up the phone again, and it rang in my hand.
‘Bess? Just want to say — you’re right. I’m sorry. You go ahead. Do what you think is right.’
‘Did Iris yell at you?’
He laughed. ‘She’s not here, but if she was I’d have been in for a rare trimming, I can tell you.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’ I breathed out, letting the anger go. ‘Thanks for ringing back.’
‘Least I could do. You’re doing fine. Hard to accept change, that’s all. Got to get my head around it. I’m working on it. Mightn’t look like it, but I am. Have to say, it’ll be a treat to see the men on Friday. I’m looking forward to that.’
‘Can we leave it for another day or two? I’ll tell you about it when I see you.’
‘There’s a problem?’
‘Don’t know yet. It’ll depend. Tell you later.’
‘Come here straight after knock-off time.’ He hung up before I could say no, not that I would have. Another evening away from Mum had its compensations. I rang and left a message on the answerphone. The day was looking up.
At midday the men took their lunches outside. I needed to talk to them. As usual they were sitting in their favourite spot under the tree. Maurice pulled up a chair for me. Jason, for the first time ever, didn’t turn his back or curl his lip.
‘Are you all okay if I talk business? It being your lunchtime, I mean.’
‘Shoot,’ said Alton.
Jason was watching Bernie and, all of his own accord, repeated what I’d asked.
‘Thanks, Jason.’ I didn’t make a big deal of it. ‘We need more orders. I’d like a rep to go to Wellington.’ I paused, and Jason repeated it all for Bernie’s benefit without sounding sulky.
I waited. I’d go myself if I had to. But Maurice said, ‘If you took over the coffee table, Alton, I could go. Take the wife. School’s finishing today. She’d like a few days away.’
‘Sure. Happy to do that.’
I smiled at them all, making sure to include Jason, and stood up. ‘Thanks, everyone. I’ll go and make the bookings.’ I’d have liked to stay and eat with them out there in the sunshine, but didn’t want to push my luck. Jason had done well. Far, far better than I’d expected. It must have been some growling they’d dealt him.