‘Very glad to see you here at Packards. Are you in training at the moment? I take it you’re defending the Diamond Sculls this year?’
‘I am indeed. I don’t intend to let that slip from my grasp.’
‘Most exciting final last year. You even managed to draw some of the spectators from their champagne teas.’
They all laughed at the expense of those who went to Henley only for the social scene.
‘I know most people regard the races as an interruption to the party. One can’t really regard Henley as a serious sporting event. The river there is far too narrow to allow a fair race. But it’s certainly a very pretty setting,’ Hugo said.
‘We shall be there to cheer you on,’ Edward said. ‘I hope you’re enjoying your tour of Packards. My little sister isn’t being too much of a bore, I trust?’
‘Not at all. Quite the contrary, in fact. Your sister has opened up a whole new world to me.’
‘I’m very glad to hear it. You will have seen the famous Ladies’ Sportswear department, I take it?’
‘No, I have not yet had that pleasure.’
‘I’m saving it up till last,’ Amelie explained.
‘Well, when you have had enough of tramping round the sales floors, do come and have a drink in my office,’ Edward invited.
‘Pleasant chap, your brother,’ Hugo commented, as they made their way back down to the first floor. ‘Very useful fly half too, I believe.’
‘Yes, and he was captain of the First Eleven at school,’ Amelie said, glad to be able to say something nice about Edward for once. She did not want to be always parading the family differences in front of Hugo.
They walked through Ladies’ Outerwear.
‘There,’ Amelie said, pride suffusing her voice. ‘There it is. My very own brainchild.’
She pointed to the archway, which was decorated with tennis racquets, cricket bats and summer greenery.
‘Most attractive, and very original, too,’ Hugo commented. ‘It’s as if it’s a small shop within the big store.’
‘You have it exactly! That’s just the effect I want to achieve,’ Amelie cried, delighted.
She showed him round the department, pointing out all her favourite innovations, but her mind was only partly on the task. For Isobel Brand was no longer behind the counter. There was another girl in her place. Hugo insisted on buying some gloves for his sisters. Miss Higgs came forward to serve this obviously very important customer, but Amelie stopped her, calling for one of the shopgirls to attend Hugo and drawing Miss Higgs aside.
‘Oh, her,’ Miss Higgs sniffed, when asked about Isobel. ‘She’s gone and left us all in the lurch, she has.’
‘Whatever do you mean?’ Amelie asked.
‘Just upped and left, she did. Went back to Trent Street in the middle of the day ill, then went out for the evening and never came back. Not a word to anyone.’
Amelie could not believe it.
‘Are you saying that you don’t know where she is? Have no enquiries been made? She might be ill. Something dreadful might have happened to her.’
‘Just what everyone said, Miss Packard. Plenty of enquiries was made, I can assure you. Police and everything.’
‘But Miss Phipps? Does she not know?’
‘Never even told her. Worried out of her mind, she was. Then a week ago, what do we get but a note saying as she’s found other employment. Just like that. Never heard anything like it in my life, I haven’t. Nobody walks out on Packards like that. Disloyal, that’s what I call it. And after all we’ve done for her.’
Amelie was shocked. Isobel Brand was the last person she would have thought would have left like this. She had been gently brought up and knew that one did not abandon one’s obligations. And beside that there was the personal angle. She had been so grateful to get the job in the first place, and even more grateful to be restored to it when Edward sacked her. But in spite of that she had gone without a word of explanation. It was indeed disloyal.
‘Why was I not informed of this before?’ Amelie asked.
Miss Higgs looked uncomfortable. ‘You’ve – er – not been in for a while, Miss Packard,’ she pointed out.
With a jolt of guilt Amelie realised that this was true. She had rushed in to the advertising department a couple of times recently, but she had not been here to Ladies’ Sportswear for well over a fortnight.
‘You should have sent a message,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry, Miss Packard. I wasn’t sure that you wanted to be bothered with it. I’ve made sure the department hasn’t suffered. Staffing sent us a new girl and she’s shaping very nicely. Better than Miss Brand ever did, if I might say so.’
‘Oh – good. Yes, thank you, Miss Higgs.’
She asked after the various lines and how they were selling, nodded her satisfaction and made a note to make sure some overdue deliveries were pursued. But the mystery of Isobel Brand nagged at her. She was frowning over it as she left the department.
‘Is there something wrong?’ Hugo asked.
‘Yes – that is, there is nothing seriously wrong with the department, just the odd problem, but that’s easily dealt with. It’s one of my shopgirls I’m concerned about. There’s something that just doesn’t ring true. Do you mind if we go to Baby Linens? I’m afraid there will be nothing much to interest you there, but I need to speak to someone.’
‘I am entirely at your command.’
Daisy Phipps was free when they reached Baby Linens. Amelie beckoned her over and asked what she knew about Isobel’s whereabouts. A wary expression came over Daisy’s face. Her eyes flicked from Amelie to Hugo, standing discreetly to one side, and back again.
‘She – er – she’s found another place, Miss Packard.’
‘I know that, Miss Phipps. The question is, whatever made her leave Packards suddenly? She can’t have had a character reference, we wouldn’t have given one to somebody who walked out like that. What sort of a place is it that she’s gone to?’
‘It’s a – a very good one, Miss Packard, and it come up sudden, like.’
‘But doing what, precisely? Miss Brand was living at Trent Street, wasn’t she? That was one of the reasons she wanted to work here, because she had nowhere to live.’
Daisy Phipps avoided her eyes.
‘It’s a living-in job, Miss Packard. A – er – companion, like.’
‘So she just left, without a word? I thought better of her, Miss Phipps. I have to say, I feel rather disappointed in her.’
Amelie couldn’t understand it at all. Being a companion, presumably to a crotchety old lady, was a horrible job, very badly paid, and probably with hardly any free time.
‘I’m sorry, Miss Packard.’
‘You cannot be held responsible for her,’ Amelie said. But there was something very odd about Daisy Phipps’s attitude. ‘Are you sure there isn’t anything that you haven’t told me?’
‘She – she wasn’t very happy here,’ Daisy Phipps said.
‘Not happy?’
‘No, she wasn’t really cut out to be a shopgirl.’
‘Are you happy here?’
Immediately, Daisy’s face lit up, losing whatever defences she had been putting up before.
‘Oh yes, Miss Packard, I love it. Only I’d rather be back at Ladies’ Sportswear.’
Amelie smiled. It was nice to know that Daisy was still loyal.
‘I would rather you were there as well, Miss Phipps. You were my best shopgirl. I hope I shall be able to do something about it in the future.’
Daisy was delighted. Amelie left, still feeling troubled. There was something there that was not right. She had the distinct impression that she was being lied to all round.
‘Have you managed to find out what you wanted to know?’ Hugo asked.
‘Not entirely,’ Amelie admitted.
‘Is it important?’
‘I suppose not.’
After all, she was not responsible for Isobel Brand. But despite know
ing this, she still had the nagging suspicion that somehow she should be involved.
‘Have we seen all of Packards now?’
Amelie looked at him, tall and handsome, waiting just for her, and immediately shelved the problem of Isobel Brand.
‘I believe we have, but it’s taken rather longer than I imagined. It’s nearly half-past one.’
Hugo seemed genuinely surprised. ‘Is it really? I had no idea.’
‘Do you have time to come and meet my grandfather?’ Amelie asked anxiously. ‘Or have you a luncheon to go to?’
Unattached young men, she well knew, were very much in demand for luncheon parties, which tended to be overloaded with females. Many hostesses issued open invitations to them to call in for the midday meal whenever they cared to.
‘My time is entirely yours. I should be honoured to meet Mr Packard.’
Glowing, Amelie led the way up to the top floor and along the corridor to her grandfather’s offices. His secretary, as always, was unwilling to let them through.
‘Mr Packard is extremely busy today, Miss Packard.’
Amelie turned on her most winning smile. ‘Oh come along, Archer, you know that Grandfather is always pleased to see me.’
Amelie was on the point of simply walking past him and into the inner office when Thomas himself emerged.
‘Amelie!’ He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her cheek. ‘I was thinking only this morning that it was too long since I last saw my favourite grandchild.’
Amelie could not resist a brief glance at Archer, who was looking deliberately bland.
‘You’re quite right, Grandfather, it is too long. But now you see I’m trying to make up for it. I’ve not only come myself, but I’ve brought a friend with me. May I introduce Mr Hugo Rutherford?’
The men shook hands, Thomas giving Hugo one of his appraising looks.
‘I have just spent a most enjoyable morning touring your store, sir,’ Hugo said. ‘Your granddaughter appears to have a remarkable grasp of affairs here.’
‘She does indeed. Very clever girl, my Amelie. Very sharp. And what did you think of Packards?’
‘That it lives up to its claim to provide the best range of goods at the most favourable prices.’
Thomas laughed. ‘Very good, young man. You’ve done your homework, I see.’
‘One thing did strike me, sir. There do seem to be a fair number of foreign-made goods on your shelves. Could not all your needs be supplied by British or Empire companies?’
Thomas looked at him with new respect. ‘That was well observed. Yes, it concerns me that we have to stock foreign goods. Once upon a time practically every manufactured item in the store was British. That was when we were the workshop of the world.’
Hugo looked surprised. ‘Can we no longer lay claim to that title?’
‘Not exclusively. The United States and even the Continental countries are beginning to catch up with us now. I regret to say that some of their products are both better and cheaper than ours, and as I aim to stock the best at this store, we are forced to import.’
‘Why do you think this is, sir? A lack of ability or enterprise on our part, or laziness, maybe?’
‘It’s certainly not a lack of ability. Complacency comes into it, though. I think possibly we’re so used to leading the world that we cannot believe that anyone else can come anywhere near challenging us. But these are heavy matters to discuss standing in my outer office. I was about to go down to the restaurant for luncheon. Would you both care to join me?’
They sat at the table in the restaurant that Thomas always used, at the top end, where he could observe all that was going on and, when eating alone, eavesdrop on the conversations around him and find out what his customers were saying about his store. The discussion that had started in the office was revived, and the decline of the British workman and the threatened rise of socialism deplored. Amelie had not had her mind so stretched since she had left school. It made a very welcome change from the inane small talk that passed for conversation at most Society events.
‘There seems to be an alarming decline in the British race,’ Hugo said. ‘We rule over the greatest empire the world has ever known and yet there is something wanting at its heart. Your generation, sir, produced great soldiers and explorers and statesmen and men of enterprise like yourself. My own seems somewhat lacking in comparison. I think you were right when you said that complacency has crept in. We are all far too pleased with ourselves, and we don’t see that something needs to be done, or we shall no longer be the pre-eminent nation.’
‘Perhaps we’ve had things too easy for too long. There are some people who say that we need a war to shake us all up,’ Thomas said. ‘Personally, I don’t agree. Bad for trade and disastrous for all you young men.’
‘It would be the ultimate test, though.’
‘What, to get killed?’ Amelie cried.
‘No, to pit oneself against an armed enemy.’
‘Better to stick to sport. You’re a sportsman, aren’t you?’ Thomas asked.
‘I aim to be, sir.’
‘There you are, then. Test yourself against all those foreigners in that. Far better way to prove who’s the superior race.’
When Thomas stood up to leave, he held out his hand to Hugo.
‘It’s been most interesting talking to you, young man. You must come and visit us at Tatwell. I’ll ask my wife to send you an invitation.’
‘Thank you, sir. I should be honoured.’
Amelie was walking on air. The two people she loved most in the world liked each other. Things could hardly be better.
33
‘I HAVE TO tell you, Mother, that it was most embarrassing to send an invitation to the young man only to find that he had already been invited by you.’
‘How was I to know that you were set on inviting him? It was your father who asked me to send the invitation.’
‘You should have told me. It made me look as if I don’t know who is coming to my own house parties.’
‘May I remind you that this is not your house yet. Your father has many more years in front of him, God willing, and in the meantime this is my house and my house party.’
Thomas hurried by the open door. The last thing he wanted was to be drawn into yet another disagreement between his wife and his daughter. The whole point of buying Tatwell had been to provide a peaceful retreat from the pressures of business. Instead, it seemed to have provided extra cause for dissention within the family. He trod carefully across the square entrance hall, trying not to make a noise on the rose-veined marble tiles. One thing at least was certain: the place was so big that it was easy to get away from the warring factions. He paused at the front door, which stood open to the warm summer air. He had been on his way to the library, but the sunshine beckoned him. He stepped outside and leant over the balustrade.
Nothing moved under the clear blue sky. The gardeners were all at work out of sight, the houseguests amusing themselves elsewhere. Even the waterfowl on the lake were motionless. Beyond it, the grass of the park was beginning to yellow from the long dry spell, making the foliage of the trees stand out more distinctively green. The peace of the scene wrapped itself around Thomas. All this was his, as far as the eye could see. The boy who had once been chased off the local landowner’s grounds by a gamekeeper with a shotgun was now a landowner himself, with gamekeepers jealously guarding deer and pheasant for him night and day. He smiled to himself, acknowledging as he never would to her face that Winifred had been right. Land, that was the key to acceptance. Since he had been master of Tatwell, there had been approaches from both political parties – Thomas did not count Labour as a proper party – and rumours of a knighthood on the next honours list.
The idea of going into politics appealed to him. The lot that were in power at the moment were a lumpen crowd, lacking in imagination. There were exceptions, like Lloyd George and that Churchill fellow, but on the whole Thomas felt that either side would bene
fit from someone like himself who knew from the inside how to run things efficiently. But even he had to admit that the moment for real greatness had passed. By his age, he should be an elder statesman, not a new boy. If he had been able to leave the shop under the care of sons, it would have been different. He could have entered political life maybe twenty years ago. As it was, he had had to keep his hands firmly on the reins and British politics had had to do without him.
He pushed any regrets away. Pining over what might have been had never been one of his faults. He had this splendid toy to play with and he was enjoying seeing it improve under his care and huge investment. The gardens were emerging from wilderness, the house was now sound and dry, and modern plumbing was being installed. Electricity from their own generator was planned. After that, the redecorating could go ahead. It had afforded him a great deal of amusement to watch Winifred’s reaction to his decree that all new furnishings must come from Packards. There was still plenty more to be done, enough to give him an absorbing hobby for his dotage. All he really needed to do was to settle the future control of Packards. He frowned, knowing that never before in his life had he dithered so much over taking a decision. He delayed it once more, by descending the sweep of stone steps and crunching across the gravel.
To the west of the house the ground dropped a little to where the new tennis courts had been laid out in the shade of two magnificent cedars. Here the stillness gave way to life and noise.
‘Out!’
‘I beg your pardon, but it was not. It hit the line, I saw the chalk!’
‘She’s right. It did.’
‘Oh very well. Fifteen all.’
Two games of mixed doubles were being played, offering a complete contrast in style. On one court Perry and three of the house party guests patted the ball about and laughed a lot. On the other, Edward and Sylvia Forbes faced Amelie and Hugo Rutherford in a match of intense effort and concentration. Four very competitive young people battled for every point, with the added edge for Edward and Amelie of a lifelong rivalry. The veneer of good manners and good sportsmanship expected of them only served to hone the needle-sharp atmosphere.
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