Janet Woods

by I'll Get By

  A cold wind circled her legs and body with a whiplash rattle of fallen leaves. The world seemed to shiver . . . and had an air of waiting.

  Because she was curious as to what a man like Rennie would give a girl like her as a birthday present, she opened the little box and aimed the thin gleam of her torch on it for a moment. She smiled. She’d got her star – in the form of a small twinkly diamond that dangled from a mother of pearl, crescent moon brooch set in silver. It was so very pretty.

  Meggie made her first wish on them both. ‘Bring Rennie back safely. And when you do, make him realize I’m not too young for him, unless you think I am, I suppose.’

  She heard the clank of metal bones and the breathless chuff of the train as it pulled out with Rennie on board, taking him to God-only-knew what hellhole he was destined for. ‘Just make sure you look after him,’ she said.

  She jumped when a wet nose touched her knee. It was the black curly-coated retriever who owned the Elliot family. ‘Shadow, what are you doing here? Did you follow after me?’

  ‘No, but Luke and I did.’ It was Adam’s voice. ‘We didn’t want you to have to walk home alone in the dark all by yourself.’

  ‘Thank you, that’s thoughtful of you . . . I appreciate it.’ Though she’d rather have been left with her solitude and the soft blanket of night sky after the busy clamour of the day. She wondered if they’d overheard her conversation with Rennie, or had seen him kissing her. Either way it didn’t matter. She was grown up, and at last she felt grown up.

  She would take the job with Andersen and Stone. Rennie was right. It would give her an insight into the business, and was an opportunity not to be missed. And if it turned out that Rennie would never be more than a friend, so be it.

  Nine

  Meggie was glad to leave the hospital with its air of emergency, where everyone walked the corridors at a hundred miles an hour, and telephones constantly rang. Stretchers rushed here and there with squeaking wheels, and with patients hidden under bloodstained sheets.

  Everybody except herself was so efficient, and looked it. In her element, Meggie’s aunt was every inch the authoritative ward sister in her starched apron, cuffs and hat with its knife-edged creases. Very different from the ethereal figure she presented at home.

  Meggie had been slapped down on the very first day by a woman nearing retirement age. ‘Don’t leave the files there, put them in the cabinet as soon as they come back. You do know your alphabet, don’t you? Dearie me . . . what are we being sent these days. Schoolgirls?’

  ‘Every problem is practical by nature and nothing is left for the imagination of a lowly clerk to wrestle with, unless I happened to book two patients into the same bed,’ Meggie told her aunt, thankful that she hadn’t.

  Leaving had been a relief.

  She felt more comfortable here at the legal office. They recognized and respected her intelligence, and that she needn’t be told twice what to do.

  Meggie eyed her territory with proprietorial interest. She buffed the desk with beeswax until it resembled polished toffee and installed her own aspidistra in a brass pot she’d found in the yard and polished to a gleaming shine. Soon the waiting room looked professional and welcoming.

  Within a week she’d sorted out the files, mastered the typewriter, ordered some office supplies, and discovered where the law books were kept.

  She took to the job in the legal office like a duck to water, and ran around being indispensable to everybody.

  It began to occur to her that Constance Stone’s impression of vagueness was a front for a mind that was as sharp as a recently honed carving knife. Mostly she did the desk work and research.

  When she’d been interviewed by Constance, Meggie had received a look that had peeled off any pretensions she might have absorbed about legal work in general, taking in everything about her from her head to her shoes. ‘Rennie told me you intend to study at Girton College, Margaret.’

  ‘I can afford the first year, I think, thanks to a legacy.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘If I can’t afford a second year I shall have to cram everything into my one year. It will be hard, I imagine, but I learn quickly.’

  Constance’s nod was accompanied by a little grin, but not one of disbelief. ‘I trod that path myself. I’m sure you’ll find a way if you want it enough, though you’ll have to sacrifice a large part of your youth, when you should be married and laying down the foundations of a family . . . then it’s all put aside.’

  ‘Yes . . . I’ve thought of that, of course.’

  ‘This will be the first time we’ve had a client as an employee working here, you know. It will not, of course, negate the administration fee. I will be handling your estate in conjunction with your guardian. Have you met Rennie’s father?’ She turned when Meggie shook her head and called out, ‘Come out of your cave and meet Margaret Elliot, Robert. You as well Cousin Ambrose.’

  There was an air of combined intellectualism lingering about them, like the smell of oregano, parchment and mahogany stirred into one brew. Their eyes were astute, spotlighting her in their collective gaze. The stare was prolonged, as though they were examining a new specimen of humankind, and she did her own examination of them, wondering if cultivating a legal-type stare would get her anywhere.

  ‘Hmmm,’ they both said together.

  ‘Hmmm,’ she said back.

  Constance gave a dry and dusty laugh. ‘Gentlemen, you won’t stare her down so you can abandon the double act. I’ve already tried it. Now, hasn’t anyone got something more sensible to say besides hmmm?’

  One of them cleared his throat, which was a signal for the other one to say, ‘Hello, my dear.’

  Robert Stone displayed a marked resemblance to his son, and was just as straightforward in nature, she thought. Rennie would look like Robert when he was older – neat, upright and gruff. His hair was iron grey with lighter streaks, and his smile was cautious until she said, ‘Rennie looks a lot like you,’ and then it came out like the sun, so she couldn’t help but respond with a smile of her own. ‘He has your smile, as well.’

  Robert made a courtly bow over her hand and kissed it. ‘Good looks have always run in the Stone family.’

  ‘They didn’t reach me.’

  Cousin Ambrose was long-faced and silver-haired, and wore side whiskers. He looked as though he might be part of a barbershop quartet, for he was flamboyant for a man leaving middle-age behind, dressed as he was in checked trousers, yellow shirt and a pale jacket over a waistcoat the colour of a billiard table. He wore a cravat with a gold horseshoe pin, and had cat hairs on his jacket. Introduced as Cousin Ambrose, that’s all anyone ever called him, except when he was with a client.

  Both men were silks; which meant they were KCs; which in its turn meant they were King’s Counsel. They took precedence in the office hierarchy.

  ‘You’re Rennie’s girl, the one with a good mind he told us about?’

  Constance interjected. ‘No, Cousin Ambrose. Margaret is one of our clients, and because he knew we needed someone for the office, Rennie asked us to accommodate her. She’s with us to gain experience in legal office work. Pamela is Rennie’s girl.’

  ‘Oh, I thought that affair was over.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘Going to be a lawyer, are you? It will be nice to have a pretty little filly frisking about the office. It will brighten up the day.’

  Meggie tried not to roll her eyes. ‘I’m not Rennie’s girl but we’re friends. And I don’t frisk, I’m afraid. I’m much too young for Rennie, in fact, he’s already said so.’

  ‘Then he’s a fool.’

  Constance chuckled. ‘Rennie was always sensible about such matters. He can be a stuffed shirt at times, also like his father. Now gentlemen, we must get Margaret an assistant who can answer the phone and see to the files. If Margaret is going to learn anything useful in her time here we need someone to do the less important tasks while she assists us.’

  Along came Ella Richards, middle-aged and no-n
onsense, who rearranged the working space to suit herself and took the most comfortable chair as her own by right of age. She moved Meggie’s pot plant to the corner where it immediately became the depository for the clients’ cigarette butts. Neglected and forgotten, it eventually died and was thrown out into the yard, again by Ella, who muttered, ‘I’m not paid to be a gardener or keep that ruddy great lump of brass clean.’

  Ella was very efficient and brisk on the telephone, and she bossed the cleaner around so the corners were kept clean and the window sills free of dust. Ella provided everyone with tea twice a day, and the occasional biscuit when the black market allowed.

  Constance Stone worked mostly on matters that could be settled out of court, so was usually at hand, if needed. Rennie had handled the solicitor’s duties and his mother had stepped into his shoes.

  Meggie was appreciative of the fact that the woman shared Rennie’s news with her, and his occasional enquiry as to her own progress. His love always went to Pamela, and Constance made sure she knew that. He always hoped that little Miss Elliot was proving useful.

  As for Meggie herself, she looked up references in the library, attended meetings in the conference room, sat in on the conferences and meetings with clients – where she was able to take notes in shorthand – and generally impressed herself and her lawyers with her efficiency and her ability to soak up knowledge like a sponge.

  She made good use of the library of law books.

  Sometimes she went to court with the two barristers, loaded down with files and trying to keep up as they strode through the street, wigs askew and robes ballooning behind them, as if about to launch themselves into the air like a couple of wizards on broomsticks. They certainly put on the style. She wondered if Rennie would do the same when he became a barrister. Would she?

  She loved the cleverness and the cut and thrust of the court work, but woe betide her if their papers weren’t in the proper order when they were needed, or she kept them waiting. The barristers were indeed an arrogant pair, who thought nothing of giving her a dressing down in public. But far from letting it crush her, she learned to live with it.

  Leo and Aunt Es helped her celebrate her eighteenth birthday with a fruitcake her mother had sent in a parcel, and which had disintegrated into crumb-coated sultanas and currants en route.

  The three of them stared at the brown mess that emerged from the parcel. ‘Only my sister could have managed to cook something like that,’ Esmé said, as they all stared at the heap of crumbs.

  Meggie giggled. ‘She didn’t leave it in the oven long enough to cook in the middle. Honestly . . . I’m surprised my stepfather has survived all these years on Mummy’s cooking. He’s a saint.’

  ‘It smells delicious, and doctors usually develop a cast iron stomach,’ Leo said. ‘What are you going to do with it, Meggie?’

  ‘It would be a shame to throw it away. I’ll bind it together with a couple of eggs and some milk and re-bake it. We’ll call it something else and have it with custard for pudding over the next few days.’

  ‘Flatulence pudding sounds more lively than calling it “something else”,’ Leo suggested, his juvenile humour earning him a pinch on the rear from Aunt Es.

  There were birthday cards in the parcel with notes from her brothers and stepfather, and a long letter from her mother. It contained all the local gossip. She told them that Sylvia and Chad were expecting a baby, and begged them all to be careful. It made Meggie feel quite homesick.

  Her aunt went a bit quiet at the news of the coming baby, and then, when Meggie hugged her, she kissed her cheek and said, ‘We must send Sylvia and Chad a congratulations card.’

  At the office there was a distraction when Rennie came home on leave, in early Decmber.

  The day had been unusually quiet and Meggie was alone. The lawyers had gone to their favourite Friday haunts, and Constance Stone had used the free time to catch up on her home affairs.

  Meggie had sent Ella home early, and had stayed behind to catch up on her typing, so she wouldn’t be overwhelmed by it the following week. When she heard the street door open she went through to the front office, and then stood stock still, though she wanted to leap across the room and hug Rennie tight. He looked smart in his peaked cap and uniform, and said, ‘Captain Stone at your service.’

  ‘Rennie? How wonderful to see you. Nobody is here, I’m afraid.’

  ‘You are.’

  She took a step towards him. ‘Did your parents know you were coming home?’

  He nodded. ‘I wanted to surprise you. I’m going to see my father and Cousin Ambrose at their club. I’m taking you out dancing tonight if you’ve got nothing else on. You won’t mind if Pamela and her friends come with us will you?’

  She’d rather have Rennie all to herself, but realized his time was limited. She’d met Pamela a few times since their first meeting, mostly when she came into the office to visit Constance Stone. Expensively dressed, Pamela always sniffed when she saw her and said something meaningful and obvious, like, ‘You’re still here then?’ or ‘Still hanging on?’

  ‘Don’t you work?’ Meggie asked her once, to which Pamela answered, ‘I don’t need to. Daddy pays me an adequate allowance.’

  Meggie suspected Rennie had been posted abroad and would be leaving soon, but she wouldn’t tell Pamela or Constance that.

  ‘I can pick you up at seven and we’ll go to one of the services clubs.’ His smile sent her heart thudding. ‘Aren’t you going to give me a hug, Mags?’

  He made it easier for her to overcome her sudden shyness by holding out his arms. Two steps forward and she was in them, her cheek against the rough material of his greatcoat, his breath sifting through her hair.

  ‘How are you getting on in the job?’ he asked the top of her head.

  Tilting her head back she gazed up at him. ‘It’s a mad scramble, but the silks are terribly awe-inspiring, and sometimes they’re mean to me, but I love it. I’m learning such a lot.’

  He laughed. ‘My mother seems impressed by your intellect. She said that anyone who can handle the silks like you do, gets her vote.’

  ‘I’m being voted on?’

  ‘I’m her only son . . . of course you are. She thinks there’s something going on between us. They all do. On that my parents disapprove.’

  She gave an exasperated little whuffle. ‘I told them we’re just friends on the day I started work here. Honestly!’ Her face heated a little. ‘Actually I like your mother a lot, and your father. You’re very much like him . . . a bit on the serious side but with a soft centre. Besides, you’ve made it clear that you’re not on the menu so I’ve reinforced your belief that I’m too young for you by falling in love with Cousin Ambrose instead.’

  He laughed. ‘Don’t tell him because he can be incredibly conceited at times.’

  ‘That’s half his charm.’

  He kissed the end of her nose then let her go. ‘I’ll walk you to the bus stop? I’m going that way.’

  ‘Thanks, Rennie. Just let me put these papers next to the filing cabinet for Ella and get my coat. You can lock the back door if you would. Remind your father that he’s due at the Bailey early on Monday. Tell him to go straight there and I’ll meet him there with everything he needs.’

  ‘Goodness, you are efficient.’

  They talked until the bus came, skirting around the subject of the war, though the havoc it caused was plain to see all around them. ‘I’ll see you later,’ he said, when the bus rumbled to a stop.

  I could easily love you because you’re kind and nice, even if you are a bit boring, she thought, and smiled at him. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

  ‘Hey Juliet . . . are you getting on the bus or waiting for it to turn into a balcony so Romeo can propose?’

  ‘Sorry.’ Meggie leaped on to the platform when the bell pinged for the driver to carry on. She hung on to the pole and waved to Rennie, who blew her a kiss.

  ‘Gentleman friend, is he?’ the conductor chatted while
Meggie took her seat.

  ‘Not yet. He’s waiting for me to grow up.’

  ‘The very idea. Tell him from me that if he waits too long someone else will snatch you from the cradle . . . and then he’ll be sorry. He’s not a bad looking sort, at that. A bit old for you though I would have thought, love.’ She moved up the aisle of the bus with a cackle of laughter.

  Would Rennie be sorry? Meggie wondered, and then she grinned. Nobody was twisting his arm to take her out . . . certainly not her.

  When she arrived home the house was still empty, and it was almost dark. She still got a jittery nervous feeling entering the house when it was unoccupied, and she knew her aunt did. It was as if someone was lurking there watching them.

  But then, if she couldn’t see who that someone was, then they certainly couldn’t see her either. Such reasoning failed to reassure her imagination that her logic took precedence.

  She reached for the torch they kept on the hall table and followed its thin beam, skittering across the hall into the kitchen, where she drew the blackout curtains across and switched the light on with a sigh of relief.

  There was a menu on the table for first in. Toad in the hole. Cabbage, two carrots and mashed potato. Boil enough cabbage and potato for bubble and squeak tomorrow. Bread pudding with an apple and a handful of sultanas sliced in, and Ideal milk, for pudding.

  She set the table, prepared the batter and cut up three sausages for the toad-in-the-hole. Cabbage was plentiful in the garden at the moment.

  Putting sixpence in the gas meter slot she ran herself a shallow bath; knelt in the warm water and washed her hair before sponging herself all over.

  She was in her dressing gown when Leo and Esmé came home.

  ‘Rennie’s coming for me at seven. We’re going dancing at a services club. You can come as well if you like.’

  Esmé grimaced. ‘My feet are killing me. I’ve delivered three babies, all boys, and they all decided to arrive one after the other.’