by Lynda Page
And then a really awful thought struck her. Having seen the way her mother was with her father, and not having any other couples in her life to judge by, she had assumed that that was the way all women should behave to their men. So when she’d been asked out by a boy she liked the look of, she had always emulated her mother’s behaviour in every way. But suddenly she realised that just because her father was content to have a woman who devoted herself to him, did not mean to say that every man did. It was obvious to her now that Neil hadn’t.
A wave of great sadness overcame her then. Why couldn’t she have had parents who at least took the time to offer her some guidance in life, instead of leaving her to her own devices? Then maybe she wouldn’t be in such an awful mess now. And suddenly she didn’t care about putting the money she’d taken back into the safe, as what did it matter if her mother discovered she’d been snooping? What would she do to Cait? Throw her out, that’s what. Well, she’d already done that. And it wasn’t as if she would miss her parents’ loving arms around her and their support because you never missed what you’d never had, did you?
She didn’t realise that she was crying until Glen asked her, ‘Are you all right, Miss Thomas?’
Cait shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘Not really,’ she uttered. ‘This is all so awful. I feel so . . . so . . .’ The floodgates opened then. Sobbing, she told him, ‘I lied to you. I haven’t got lots of friends. I haven’t got any. I don’t want to end up a lonely old woman. I want people to like me and want to be my friends but I don’t know what to do about it.’ She raised her head then and looked at him imploringly. ‘Help me, will you? Tell me what to do to make people like me.’
His heart went out to her then and he dearly wanted to go to her and put his arms around her, give her a comforting hug. But that wouldn’t be the right thing for him to do. She was, after all, the daughter of the owner of the business and he a mere worker. He felt very uncomfortable with this situation. It was one thing, putting a young woman right on her mishandling of the business, but quite another dealing with a distraught one who needed advice on how to change herself into a better person. Women were better at this sort of thing anyway. He vehemently wished Jan were here now as she’d know how to handle this. But she wasn’t and he couldn’t leave the distraught girl without offering her some sort of help.
Glen said, ‘It’s not easy changing the habits of a lifetime, but if you really want to then the best advice I can offer you is to remember always to treat people in the way you would wish to be treated yourself. Then you won’t go far wrong. Another thing is to take just a second or two to think before you speak, so that to the best of your knowledge what you are going to say isn’t going to offend or hurt someone, and also the manner in which you say it.’
Cait seemed to digest his words of wisdom for a moment before she flashed him a wan smile. ‘I’ll remember, I will.’ She could see a battle before her, though, constantly having to watch everything she said and did in order to become the better person she wanted to be. And how was she going to convince all those who knew the old Caitlyn and gave her a wide berth unless they had no choice that she wasn’t that selfish person any longer, and make them give her a chance to prove it to them? And how on earth was she going to look her parents in the eye now that she had had her eyes opened to the fact that they had no love for her, only for themselves?
She suddenly felt a desperate need to return home, pack her things and go somewhere far away, another town where no one knew her and where she could make a fresh start. She could take the rest of the money from the safe to set herself up with a home and she felt sure she wouldn’t have much trouble getting another job. But then to turn her back on the business, leaving the staff struggling to keep it going without any guidance, would not be trying to make herself a better person, would it?
She gave her wet eyes a wipe with the back of her hand, sniffed and then looked at Glen for several moments. It didn’t feel like it at the moment, considering what she was facing, but in the future she knew she would owe this man a debt of gratitude for the risk he had taken today in coming to tackle her. She looked at him quizzically for a moment as several things about him didn’t seem to sit right. ‘I can’t understand why someone like you is just working as an odd job man,’ she queried.
‘It’s as good a job as any.’
She eyed him searchingly. ‘You look and dress like an odd job man would . . . but . . . well . . . I can’t put my finger on it, but I can only say you seem to know more about the running of a business, and certainly how to handle the union men, than I’d have thought an odd job man would. You certainly dealt with this situation as if you’ve handled similar ones before. You speak well so I know you’ve come from a good background. I might only be young and inexperienced in the ways of business but I haven’t got so much cotton wool in my brain . . .’ she flashed a quick smile at him when she said that, to let him know she was making light of what he’d accused her of earlier ‘. . . that I don’t know when I’m in the company of someone who is better than they’re making out they are. How did someone like you end up being an odd job man? And what is your name, by the way?’
Glen stared at her blankly. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her the whole truth as that would run the risk of breaking a young girl’s heart by informing her that the kind loving person she doubtless considered her mother to be was in fact a con artist, and the lifestyle she herself was living was all based on the proceeds of trickery. It wasn’t fair that he lie to her either. He’d been very fortunate up to now that the people he had come across in the company either weren’t aware of its history or, if they were, hadn’t considered that the Glen Trainer who used to own the company and himself were the same man. He dearly hoped this situation would remain the same until he was ready to leave. He doubted Nerys would have told her daughter the truth of how she’d come to own Rose’s so felt he was on safe ground telling Caitlyn his name and the diluted version of how he came to be working here.
He walked across to the window, turned his back to it, then began speaking. ‘My name is Glen . . . Glen Trainer.’ He paused for a moment with bated breath to see whether the name meant anything to her, and inwardly sighed with relief when she made no comment. He continued, ‘I’ve not always been an odd job man. I used to run a company once, a business similar to this in fact . . .’
He was stopped in his tracks by a thud on the door, the sound made by the toe of a shoe hitting it.
Cait looked over at it for a moment before she called out, ‘Come in.’ It seemed she had temporarily forgotten her new resolve. Her tone was curt.
There were fumbling sounds from the other side of the door and Glen realised whoever it was was having trouble turning the door knob. He went over, turned the knob, and opened the door to find a woman outside, attempting to balance a laden tray which she was struggling to keep steady with one hand while the other was trying to open the door. She had her head bowed, a white net cap pulled down right over her forehead to cover her eyebrows, as if she was trying to hide her face. Of course he knew it was Jan.
‘Why are you . . .’ he started to say.
Righting herself, the tray now held in both hands, her head came up and with her eyes she silenced him. Then she bowed her head again and he stood back, watching in bemusement, as she hurried with the tray over to the desk, set it down and mumbled, ‘Your tea, Miss Thomas. Sorry for the delay.’ She hurried back towards the door. Just as she passed by Glen, she lifted her head and shot him a look that told him not to talk to her and also that she was desperate to know what was going on, then she was off down the corridor.
Cait said to Glen, ‘You were telling me?’
‘Pardon? Oh, yes. The fact is that the owner died and the son sold up. The new owner decided he didn’t want a manager running the place as he was going to head it up himself. I felt I’d had enough of the responsibility of that kind of job anyway and got myself something back on a production line. It was a
huge drop in salary but I was happy to be sleeping well at night. I was ready for a change when I saw the maintenance man’s job advertised and thought I’d apply and . . . well, here I am.’
Noises from outside in the yard made him glance out of the window. ‘Seems people are returning to work.’ He turned back and walked over to his tool box. He picked it up and said to Cait, ‘Well, I’d better get back to it myself.’
She looked aghast. ‘But you can’t leave me. I mean, I don’t know how to go about finding a replacement manager like I promised the union men I would.’
‘Miss Trucker will help you with that. From the dealings I’ve had with her, she seems like a very capable woman.’
Cait sighed. And she herself hadn’t treated her very civilly. More apologies were necessary it seemed.
Glen appeared to read her mind. ‘She doesn’t come across to me as a woman who bears grudges. You’ll be fine.’
Another thought struck Cait then. ‘Oh, but wait a minute. We don’t need to look for a temporary manager to run this place. You’ve run a business. You’re qualified. You could do it, couldn’t you?’ Then she wouldn’t need to hang around here and could get on with starting her new life.
Glen hoped he wasn’t showing the horror he felt at her suggestion. The job he could do easily. The company still seemed to be running along the same lines as it had when he had owned the place, maybe a few administrative changes but it wouldn’t take him long to get to grips with those, but there were reasons why he couldn’t, wouldn’t, accept her offer, the main one being that if he were ever to head up this company again it would not be as a manager but because he owned it. And that he never would as it was highly unlikely Nerys would have her conscience pricked after all this time and hand it back to him. But the main reason was that she could come back at any moment and, if she found him running the place, all hell would break loose.
He smiled at Cait and told her, ‘Thanks for the offer, Miss Thomas, but I like the job I’m doing. I wouldn’t fancy all the responsibility of managing again. I really must get back now in case any machines have broken down. Wouldn’t do for me to be responsible for holding up production.’
Cait sat staring at the closed door for several moments after Glen had shut it behind him. She felt physically and emotionally drained and wished more than anything that she could climb into bed, pull the covers around her and sleep for eternity. But she had meant what she’d said. She no longer wanted to be the person her parents had made her into, and if she was serious about making herself into a better person she had better make a start. She knew it wasn’t going to be easy for her, Glen Trainer had told her that, but she was determined she was going to change the habits of a lifetime.
She thought of Glen again. She had read somewhere that people could sometimes appear in your life for a very short space of time, then leave just as quickly, but the impact of their visit could be significant. She knew she would be forever grateful to him for taking the risk of coming to talk to her, indebted to him in fact – but it was a debt she doubted she’d ever be able to repay.
Cait sat upright in her chair and took several deep breaths. Time to make a start. After first rehearsing what she was going to say and how, as Glen had advised her to do, she reached over to press the intercom buzzer and said politely into it, ‘Miss Trucker, when you’re free, would you please come into my office? I would like to ask your advice.’
She could only imagine the look of utter astonishment on Miss Trucker’s face at having received such a civil message. But she imagined it correctly. It took the secretary several moments to accept that it had indeed been Caitlyn Thomas whose polite tones she had heard over the intercom and not someone playing a joke on her.
CHAPTER TWENTY
After the day he’d had, Glen felt the need for a drink stronger than tea and had gone off to the local corner shop to treat himself and Jan to a couple of bottles of beer each. He had to admire her self-control. She obviously knew that the strike had been staved off in some way and Glen knew she was desperate to hear his account of what had happened when he had paid a visit to the office today. And, of course, how he’d got on with Miss Thomas. Had he told her who he was, and if so what had her reaction been? When he returned with the beer and they were seated opposite each other in the fireside chairs, he’d be ready to tell her all.
Back at the flat, Jan vigorously wiped away at burned splashes on top of the old enamel cooker, which helped to ease the frustration slightly. She was desperate to hear from Glen how his visit to Lucy had been. She stopped her rubbing and frowned as she heard a purposeful knock on the door to the flat. That was quick, for Glen to have got to the shop and back so soon. He’d hardly been gone a minute or so. She could have sworn, though, she had seen him take his key off the hook by the door before he left. As she reached it and noticed his key wasn’t there, she assumed he must have lost it.
Opening the door, she said, ‘Challenging Roger Bannister’s record for the one-minute mile is . . .’ Her voice died away as she pulled the door fully open and saw who the visitor actually was. ‘Harry!’ she uttered, shocked.
He walked past her into the front room. Jan stood staring after him blankly for a moment. When she’d recovered herself she found him standing in the living area, waiting for her to join him. As soon as she did he said darkly, ‘So Mrs March was right and it was you she saw coming in here one night when she was visiting a needy parishioner. She knew who you were from visiting our house when you opened the door to her.’ His tone accusing, he continued: ‘While you were trespassing there recently you stole money that was intended for the needy. Money that generous people had donated, some going without themselves in order to do so. How can you live with yourself, knowing you’ve done such a despicable thing?’
Jan raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Er . . . just remind me again, Harry. That money was intended for people in desperate need, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, it was.’
‘Well, I was one of those people after you threw me out without anything more than the clothes on my back. So it went to a needy person, didn’t it?’
He looked stunned but found he couldn’t argue with that, so didn’t. ‘You took some of my clothes too.’
She gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘Because I knew someone else in dire need, and in the circumstances I didn’t think you’d mind.’ Over her shock now, Jan folded her arms, looked him square in the eyes and said, ‘So Mrs March is the name of your do-gooding friend, is it? Is that all she does for you, Harry, a few cleaning jobs around the house and cook you a meal?’
He shot her a disapproving look. ‘No need for that attitude, Janet. I won’t have you speak about Mrs March that way. I wouldn’t have managed to keep house without the help of the good ladies of the congregation.’
She responded sardonically, ‘No, you wouldn’t have time for housework, would you? Not with every minute taken up with helping the deserving.’
He ignored her jibe and said, ‘Mrs March also noticed a man coming in here with you that evening. She said that by the way you acted together, you obviously knew each other well.’
Jan scowled angrily at him. ‘Not in the way that you’re implying we don’t!’
‘So you deny you’re living together, even though there are signs of a man all over the place,’ he said, casting his eyes around, noting Glen’s slippers by a chair, the unread evening newspaper over the arm of it.
‘Actually we are living together but as friends, clubbing together to fund a place to live in because otherwise we couldn’t afford it. We sleep in separate bedrooms,’ Jan added defensively.
He cast his eyes around again before bringing them back to her. ‘How can you live in a place like this? It’s barely more than a hovel.’
‘Like this! Let me tell you, it might not be Buckingham Palace but it’s a far cry from living on the streets.’
‘I grant you that much. But it can’t be compared to the house you left.’
‘The house you thr
ew me out of and told me never to darken the door of again, you mean?’
His face tight, Harry snapped, ‘I found you in bed with another man. What did you expect me to do . . . make you both a cup of tea?’
Jan shook her head sadly at him. ‘You still haven’t accepted any responsibility for driving me into another man’s arms, have you, Harry? I’m sure God is very grateful for your dedication in serving him and I hope, like you do, that his reward to you will be a place in heaven where you can make your apologies to Keith for allowing him out on the night that he died. But in the process you’ve turned your back on the people who loved you . . . on me . . . starved me of love and affection, giving it all instead to the people you were helping while I became nothing more than a housekeeper to you.’
‘I asked you to join me in becoming a servant of the Lord, Janet.’
She said in all sincerity, ‘Oh, I would have been quite happy to do some good turns for the needy now and again, but I wasn’t prepared to give up my life to it, like you were.’ She gave a deep sigh and looked at him tenderly. ‘We used to be so close, did everything together. You were constantly telling me how much you loved me and physically showing you did too, like I did then. Where did that Harry go?’