by Lynda Page
Glen’s eyes were fixed on the young woman’s face. So his and Julia’s beautiful baby girl had grown up into this very attractive young woman. She had Julia’s eyes, her bow-shaped mouth and the same colouring. Her pert nose she had inherited from his own mother. Glen couldn’t see anything of himself in her at that moment, but there had to be something. It was a pity her manner wasn’t as appealing as her outward appearance. He couldn’t help feeling, though, that he had encountered her somewhere before.
Aware the man was standing staring at her, Cait jerked up her head and snapped, ‘Are you deaf? I told you to go away and come back when it’s more convenient for me.’
Her rude retort snapped Glen out of his trance. ‘I really need to talk to you, Lucy.’
She scowled at him, bemused. ‘Lucy! Why are you calling me by that name? My name is Cait . . . Caitlyn . . . but it’s Miss Thomas to you and don’t you forget that. I could sack you for such insubordination. Whatever the problem is, speak to your foreman about it. Now, if you don’t leave as I asked, you will be looking for another job.’
Glen was furious that Nerys had taken it upon herself to change Lucy’s name. Julia and he had agonised over numerous choices for their beloved new baby, wanting to find the one they felt suited her perfectly. They’d felt happy that they had. Before he could stop himself, he retaliated. ‘If you carry on sacking people at the rate you are, then very soon you’ll have no staff left, young lady. Is that how you believe the boss of a company keeps the staff in line – by threatening them with the sack should they act in any way you don’t like?’
Cait was startled by his unexpected harangue and couldn’t help but defend herself. ‘My mother instilled in me the fact that familiarity breeds contempt. She owns this company and I’m running it the way I know she would, keeping the workforce in their place and earning their money.’ She jumped up from her chair then, eyes darkening thunderously, and wagged a warning finger at him. ‘What right do you think you have to come in here challenging me? If you don’t leave now, I’ll have you thrown bodily off the premises.’
Glen was busy thinking. So Jan was right again and his daughter’s abrasive, self-important attitude was all down to Nerys. What a good actress that woman was to have kept her true nature so well hidden from him. Sheer guilt for being blindly sucked in by her and allowing this state of affairs to happen flooded him. Without thinking he blurted, ‘I have every right to speak to you in any way I feel fit as I’m . . . I’m . . .’ Then his nerve completely failed him and he ended up saying instead, ‘I’ve come to help you as a friend, Miss Thomas. Believe me, you need a friend right now.’
She laughed mockingly. ‘I have enough friends of my own, thank you very much, so I certainly don’t need the likes of you . . .’ she flashed a derogatory look over him before adding ‘. . . an odd job man as one.’
He shook his head sadly. ‘I’m surprised you have any if you treat them the way you do the people who work for you.’
Cait’s eyes narrowed darkly at what she saw as his impertinence. Reaching over to the intercom on the desk beside her, she smacked her hand down hard on the button and yelled, ‘Miss Trucker, get in here now and bring some strong armed men with you. Miss Trucker, are you listening to me?’ Receiving no response and thinking, Where the hell is the woman when I need her? she shot out from behind the desk and went over to the door. She yanked it open and yelled down the corridor, ‘Miss Trucker, get in here now.’
Glen realised that strong action was called for if he was going to get his daughter to listen to him, and time wasn’t on his side. In a commanding tone he told her, ‘Shut the door, sit back down and listen to what I have to say to you. It’s in your own best interest.’
Cait spun round and stared at him, speechless. She made to retaliate in her usual manner but was stopped by her instincts screaming at her that this man was putting his job at risk in order to get her to listen to what he had to tell her, so whatever it was it must be important. She really ought to hear him out. As she silently made her way back into the office to retake her seat behind the desk, it struck her that she should feel extremely wary of being alone in here with a man she did not know, but strangely she didn’t. Fixing his eyes with hers, she snapped, ‘Well, what’s so important then?’
He sat down on the chair in front of the desk, putting his tool box to one side of him. Fixing her with his eye, he told her, ‘This is not the Dark Ages, Lu— Miss Thomas. It’s nineteen fifty-five. Unions fought for the rights of workers to be treated fairly.’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘What’s that got to do with me?’
‘You aren’t treating your workforce at all fairly. Of course, you never should have been put in charge of the company, even if it’s only until your . . .’ he had difficulty saying the next word but he forced himself to ‘. . . mother returns from holiday. Sixteen should never have been considered—’
‘I’m eighteen,’ she sharply corrected him. ‘Well, I will be in a few days’ time.’
Glen looked at her for a moment before saying, ‘No, you’re sixteen, seventeen at the end of January. I should know as I am your—’
She cut in, ‘I know when my own birthday is. I have a certificate to prove it. I’m eighteen on the twenty-eighth of December. I don’t know why you should think I’m only sixteen and my birthday is at the end of January.’
The breath left his body and he was staring at her blindly as the significance of what she had just told him registered. This young woman wasn’t his daughter after all. He felt as if someone had punched him hard in the stomach. But that meant that all the time Nerys was with him, she must have been hiding the existence of her own daughter. Why would she do that? He had a child when they had met, so why would he have had any objection to her having one? But this posed the question of just where his own daughter was. He realised that Cait was waiting for an answer and said awkwardly, ‘Oh, I . . . er . . . I must have overheard someone talking and thought it was about you.’ Then a thought struck him. ‘They must have been talking about your sister.’ There was a hopeful note in his voice.
‘I haven’t got a sister. I’m an only child.’
Again he stared at her, frozen, his thoughts desperate. The only other answer was that Nerys must have had his daughter adopted. Her promise to him to look after her while he was serving the sentence he hadn’t deserved had been just another of her lies. It had been bad enough thinking for all these years that his beloved child was being raised by the woman who was capable of doing what she had, but complete strangers . . . More importantly, the only way he was going to find out what Nerys had done with Lucy was to tackle her himself. But what if she wouldn’t tell him? His anger was running high, not at the young woman before him but at her mother for making his life a misery still after all these years. He couldn’t help but bang his fist on the table and say harshly, ‘You are far too young and inexperienced, even at eighteen, to be expected to run a company. Your mother must have been out of her mind to think you were up to keeping this place going until she returned from her trip.’
He stabbed a finger at the pile of magazines on the desk in front of her. ‘Is this how you think a boss runs a company, reading magazines while his staff do all the work and you just pocket the profits? What have you inside your head, young lady, cotton wool? As the head of this business it’s your responsibility to keep the work coming in and deal with all the problems that arise. And, most important, do all you can to make sure your workforce is happy. And you don’t achieve that by willy-nilly putting controversial rules in place without union agreement first, or by passing all your work on to others who are neither skilled enough nor paid to do it and who already have enough on their plates doing their own jobs. As for sacking those who happen to look at you in the wrong way . . . You might believe the myth that bosses sit on their backsides all day long with their feet up on the desk, taking the occasional tour around just to remind the workforce that a beady eye is being kept on them, but a myth is
all it is.
‘A boss should work harder than any of his workforce, roll his shirt sleeves up when the going gets tough and do all he can to ensure he has work for them every day. That’s how he gains their respect and loyalty. Now listen to me, young lady, the workforce have had enough of your behaviour and aren’t going to take any more of it. You risk ruining the company and losing them their jobs. The final straw was the fact that you never showed your face at the funeral yesterday.’
‘I can’t see what difference that made. I didn’t know Reg Swinton,’ she told him defensively.
He gazed at her incredulously. ‘Reg Swinton had worked for your mother for many years and done a splendid job of running her company. You should have dropped everything to show your respects to him. The staff who attended were extremely embarrassed by there not being any appearance by the owner’s representative. I can’t imagine how let down Mrs Swinton felt. A union meeting was called this morning and a vote was held on what action should be taken to put a stop to your nonsense.’
Cait gasped. ‘That wasn’t a fire drill going on in the yard but a union meeting!’
He eyed her, stunned. ‘You didn’t take the trouble to go and investigate, to make sure just why all your employees had downed tools? You just assumed you knew. A proper boss would know everything that’s going on in his factory before it happens. You have such a lot to learn if you ever want to manage a business successfully, Miss Thomas. Anyway, the union representative and shop stewards will be paying you a visit very shortly to deliver you their ultimatum: either you step aside and someone more qualified is put in your place until Mrs Thomas returns or the workers are downing tools until you do agree to their terms. If the strike goes ahead, the repercussions for the company could be irreversible and there’s more than a probability that your mother will return from her trip to find she has no company any longer. Now you were the cause of this present situation and only you can put a stop to it before it’s too late.’
Cait was far too shocked by what had been said to offer any response. She sat staring blindly at the man before her, trying to digest it all.
But getting no reaction from her whatsoever, Glen took it to mean that his words to her had fallen on deaf ears. His effort to make her see the error of her ways and put matters right was just a waste of his time. Grabbing up his tool box, he stood up and walked out, pulling the door shut behind him.
As she heard it shut, a rush of sheer panic filled Cait. Emotions were raging through her: humiliation, shame, hurt, anger, but none of them was as acute as the fear filling every fibre of her being at the thought that her mother could return to find Cait’s irresponsible actions had resulted in the ruin of her company. Her ambition to show her mother she was a daughter to be proud of would not come about if she didn’t heed that man’s words.
Jumping up from the chair, she bolted to the door and ran out into the corridor.
Glen, feeling utterly helpless and deeply saddened that he had failed in his attempt to make Nerys’s daughter see reason, was about to descend the stairs when he heard a shout.
‘Mister . . . Mister . . .’
He turned his head to see a frantic Caitlyn Thomas beckoning him back. He stared at her. Did this mean she had after all taken on board what he’d said to her and was prepared to try and put a stop to the strike? Full of hope, he hurriedly retraced his steps.
She had disappeared back into the office by the time he got there. He followed her inside and looked at her expectantly. She was standing by the desk, wringing her hands. ‘Mister . . . Oh, please, my mother can’t come back and find I’ve been responsible for ruining her business. You must help me stop that happening. I’ll make it worth your while. Twenty pounds . . . thirty . . . whatever you decide. But you must help me.’
Glen was appalled that she felt she needed to bribe him to help her but, conscious that the delegation would be descending on them any minute, he asked, ‘You’re prepared to agree to the union’s demands then?’
She nodded her head vigorously. ‘Yes, you go and tell them that.’
Glen shook his head. ‘That’s for you to do, not me, Miss Thomas.’
Cait looked horrified at the thought but they had no time to debate the issue as there was a loud knock on the door. They both looked across at it. Glen then glanced at Cait’s fear-stricken face and said, ‘It’s up to you now. Just remember, though, that the men need to feel you’re sincere in what you say, so no high-handed attitude.’
She gulped as she turned back to face the door, hesitating for a moment before she called out, ‘Come in.’
She immediately felt intimidated by the four middle-aged men who entered the room to stand just inside the door, eyes fixed on her. She dearly hoped they could not see that she was shaking.
Harry Owens was among the delegation and noticed Glen who had moved to stand over by the window. He looked surprised. ‘What are you doing up here, man? You’re not working, I hope, in light of what’s going on?’
All four men were looking at him suspiciously. He thought it best not to divulge the true reason he was up here as they could see that as interfering with union business. He lied, ‘I was up here having a look at the radiators and left my tool box behind to attend the meeting. I was just collecting it.’
They all seemed happy with that explanation and it was the union representative, Alf Bisson, who told him in an authoritative tone, ‘Well, you can leave now as we’ve private union business to discuss with Miss Thomas.’
Cait inwardly froze. They were telling that man to go . . . she didn’t even know his name yet she felt he was the only ally she had. She didn’t feel she could do whatever she had to without knowing he was nearby, lending her strength. ‘Whatever is said in this office will be common knowledge when you go and report it back to the rest of the workforce so it’s of no consequence if he stays,’ she announced, inwardly quaking. Then, desperate to get this over with before she lost her nerve, and reminding herself of Glen’s words of advice to be careful of how she addressed the men, she took a deep breath and in a pleasant and sincere tone said, ‘I’m . . . I’m sorry . . . very sorry for the way I’ve been acting. I admit I wasn’t thinking straight to believe I had what it takes to run this company. I was just trying to help my mother out while she’s away, that’s all. I’m sure you can all appreciate that.’
She paused for a moment to draw breath before she continued. ‘All the new rules I’ve put in place, well, you can forget them. And the men I sacked are reinstated. I’ll do my best to find someone else to run this place as a matter of urgency, so if you’d just bear with me until then . . .’
The men all looked astonished, her apology and her behaviour the last things they’d been expecting.
Alf Bisson, a militant at heart, was not as happy as the other three that a strike had been averted. In all the years he had been union rep for this company, he’d only had what he perceived as petty problems to deal with and had been looking forward at long last to showing the workers that he was more than a match for the hierarchy. He was annoyed that this young woman had thwarted him. Another chance like this to show his mettle might never come his way again, considering that this company in all its history had never had a strike. Reluctantly he said, ‘Well . . . er . . . right you are then, Miss Thomas. We’ll take this back to the staff and get their vote on it.’
As soon as they had departed, Cait let out a huge sigh of relief and said to Glen, ‘Did I do all right?’
He smiled at her. ‘More than all right, Miss Thomas. You should give yourself a pat on the back. That couldn’t have been easy for you.’
‘No, it wasn’t, but at least now my mother isn’t going to return from holiday and find her business in ruins. How much do I owe you?’
He frowned. ‘Owe me?’
‘For helping me?’
‘But I don’t need paying. I was only too glad you did let me help you or I dread to think what the consequences might have been.’
She loo
ked most surprised. ‘Oh! If ever I’ve got anyone to do anything for me before, I’ve always had to make sure it was worth it to them.’ Then she remembered all the things he had said to her so bluntly and her bottom lip began to tremble, tears to prick her eyes. ‘You said some horrible things to me.’
She was obviously very upset by his remarks, but if she was expecting him to apologise for what he had said to her then she would wait a long time. ‘What I told you were some home truths, Miss Thomas. I couldn’t see any other way to get you to take notice than to be brutally honest. And a bit more advice . . . If you carry on the way you are, turning people away from you with your manner towards them, then you’re going to end up a lonely old woman. Unless, of course, that’s what you want for yourself, so you purposely treat people with disdain, to stop them getting close to you for some reason?’
Cait was stupefied. No, she certainly didn’t want to end up alone. But she was only taking her lead from her mother and she wasn’t a lonely old woman. She frowned, confused. Something struck her. The man had just said that by acting the way she was towards people, she was in fact pushing them away. She hadn’t realised that; had always assumed she should speak to people like that because her mother did. But was it just her mother’s way of informing other people not to try and get close to her? Her life was complete the way it was and she didn’t need anyone else in it? Now Cait thought about it like this, it made sense as her mother never made any effort whatsoever to make friends or even acquaintances.
A vision of her parents rose before her then. They would sit side by side on the sofa, chatting and laughing together at their own private jokes, not sharing them with her, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was sitting in an armchair nearby. They lived in their own little world that no one else, except under exceptional circumstances, was allowed into. And that was the way they liked it. In the light of this realisation, Cait now knew that all her efforts to regain her mother’s affection and be allowed into their inner circle had been a total waste of time. There were two people only in that circle and no room for any more, not even her, no matter what she did. Maybe her parents had not planned to have her in the first place, she’d just been a mistake, and the mementoes in that box in the safe were not hers at all but her mother’s from when she was a baby.