Tuppenny Times

by Beryl Kingston

  ‘I’m an old dog to learn new tricks,’ he admitted. And then he felt shamed to have been pushed into such a confession. ‘Come now. Why do we talk so foolishly, when we’ve a wedding to arrange?’

  She ignored that, setting her feet on the fender and picking up the poker to rake out the fire. ‘Mr Teshmaker tells me you could change the name of the firm were we to marry.’

  ‘Perish the thought,’ he said, teasing again but feeling that this was beginning to look like a battle of wills and that he ought to give all his attention to it. Surely she wasn’t going to refuse him. Not after all his effort in that theatre.

  ‘But you would have legal rights to all my money and all my property, would you not?’

  ‘Aye, I daresay. What of it?’ Trying to speak lightly.

  ‘I will tell ’ee what of it,’ she said looking straight at him, poker in hand. ‘You could spend every penny, so you could, and me powerless to stop ’ee.’

  ‘Nan, Nan,’ he said, trying desperately to charm her, for he could see his hope of a rich marriage falling away like the spent ash dropping into the grate between them. ‘How could ’ee think such a thing?’

  ‘Very easily,’ she said, returning the poker to its hook, ‘having seen your accounts.’ And as he looked puzzled, ‘Mr Teshmaker has kept an account of all the monies you’ve begged and borrowed from my firm over the years. ’Tis a formidable sum.’

  The sudden knowledge that she knew about his extravagances struck a chill into the centre of his brain, despite the warmth of the brandy. Would she scold?, he wondered, looking at her ruefully. She’d have every right to. But she didn’t. She sat still and formidable watching him, like a commanding officer, or Mr Chaplin when he was about to dismiss a groom.

  ‘A man must live,’ he tried.

  ‘So must a flea, they say. But not on me.’

  ‘That’s deuced hard, my charmer.’

  ‘That’s the truth.’

  There was a long pause while he frowned at the fire, and she watched him, loving him still but almost unmoved by his distress.

  Then he tried another gambit. ‘You do not love me,’ he said, looking pitiful.

  It was a crushing disappointment that she laughed at him. ‘Oh, I love ’ee well enough,’ she said. ‘That en’t the point. I could love ’ee well enough whether we married or no. The point is, what should I gain if we were to marry? You en’t like to be faithful, you’ll allow. You’d be gadding about the country half the time pursuing other women. You’d spend all my money. You’d run up debts for me to pay. What would change?’

  It was necessary to make her some sort of promise or he would lose her. And how would he pay his debts then? ‘I would change!’ he said, holding up his head to look her full in the eye.

  She put back her head and roared with laughter, teeth gleaming in the firelight. ‘How of the old dog, eh?’ she said. ‘No, my dear, you wouldn’t change. Nor would I wish it, for then you would be other than you are. You wouldn’t change and neither would I. We en’t the marrying kind, neither one of us. You have itchy feet, my dear, and I’m a woman of business.’

  It was true, he thought, looking at her as she sat, straigh-tbacked and determined, before the fire. She was a woman of business and a very fine one. As great in her own sphere as the redoubtable Mr Chaplin was in his, and now he came to think about it, a very similar creature. It was odd that he hadn’t seen the similarity before. But until this moment he’d never thought of her as anything other than a mere woman, handsome, headstrong, passionate, to be loved when he would, left when he would, like all the rest of her kind. Had she been a man, he thought, I would have recognized her power a deal sooner than this. Nan Easter, woman of business. What a chance I’ve missed.

  Thoughts and emotions shifted inside his head like a kaleidoscope muddled by brandy. He realised too that he was going to have to accept defeat from this woman, that somehow or other he had lost his advantage. He had stayed away too long and made too many mistakes. But at least the knowledge brought a return of grace and honesty. ‘You will not marry me,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ she said, and although she was rejecting him, and they both knew it, she spoke kindly, ‘I will not. I have a fine family to lead and a great business to run and the truth of it is they’re a deal more important to me than any affair, even one as pleasurable as ours has been.’ And the truth of it was as clear as the cold light over the frozen Thames. It was her family that held her affections now, and the great firm she had founded that took her attention and roused her energy.

  He stood up and looked down at her, his face extremely handsome in the firelight. ‘If we do not marry,’ he said, trying his last gambit, but this time with dignity, ‘then we must part. We cannot go on as we are.’ If she wouldn’t marry him he would have to find some other woman who would. In Ireland, perhaps, with his brother. But certainly not in London where his debts were known. ‘I shall go to Ireland. We shall not see one another again.’

  It did not pain her to accept it, even though until that moment she’d had a vague hope that they might continue their affair in the old style. But what was there to continue? It was over and best acknowledged so. After all the passion of their long affair, they were both so calm at its ending.

  ‘You will tell your family,’ he said.

  ‘Before the victory ball at Bury on Saturday. They should all be told at the same time, I think.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That is best. Should I be there too, think ’ee?’

  ‘If you wish. Annie would take it kindly if you were, for I told her in my letter that you would attend, don’t forget.’

  ‘Aye, so you did,’ he said, numb with brandy and sadness. But it seemed to him that her letter had been written years ago, in some other life, before he lost her. Whatever other women he might find to love, he thought, there would never be another like his incomparable Nan.

  They looked at one another in the firelight for a long, bitter-sweet moment.

  ‘I shall return to my club for a day or so,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘That is best too.’

  He saluted her, as though she were an officer. He couldn’t have explained why, but it seemed a fitting thing to do. Then he left her.

  Chapter Forty-One

  ‘There’s something afoot, Mr Teshmaker,’ Billy said happily when he and Johnnie met up with their old friend the next morning. ‘He came back last night and then went straight off to Goosegogs. Wasn’t in the house more than half an hour. That don’t look much like a wedding to me. What do ’ee think?’

  ‘The signs are certainly auspicious,’ the lawyer agreed, showing them their mother’s letter. ‘I am invited to join you at a victory party at Bury this Saturday, and no mention of the marriage, as you see.’

  ‘And yet she is so happy,’ Johnnie said, remembering his mother’s bustling exuberance at breakfast that morning. It didn’t make sense.

  ‘Wait, watch, say nothing,’ Cosmo advised. ‘We may learn more at Bury St Edmunds. When do you travel?’

  ‘On the ten o’clock on Saturday morning,’ Billy said. ‘Shall you ride with us?’

  Nan couldn’t wait to get to Bury. She was teeming with energy, her brain filled with burgeoning plans for the future, her hands perpetually busy. She did all her work at twice her normal speed, walking so quickly that nobody could keep up with her. By midday on Friday she was packed and ready to travel.

  The weather matched her mood exactly. It was one of those fine spring days when the world is suddenly full of colour and movement, the blue sky heaped with fat steam-clouds visibly scudding past, the grass on the river-bank green and shimmering, limes and planes uncurling new leaves, and all about her a babble of spring voices, thrushes tremulous, robins flute-clear, a flock of finches flying like darts, chi-chi-chi. Oh, it was a grand old world!

  Her travelling companions were as excited as she was and, like her, had come prepared for a riotous journey, with claret and brandy and spiced h
ollands a-plenty. Even before they left London they were treating one another like old friends and by the time the coach came rocking in to Angel Hill they were singing patriotic songs in a cheerfully inebriated chorus.

  ‘Good bye, Mrs Easter dear,’ they called as she set off through the crowded square. ‘Good luck to ’ee. May you prosper in all your endeavours.’

  ‘No fear of that!’ she called back. With the war over and trade bound to pick up and no spendthrift to hold her back, she could hardly fail.

  Angel Hill was full of her old friends, out to take the air and see the sights, for Bury was in celebratory mood and a state of extreme excitement, every street crackling with bunting, the balcony of the Athenaeum draped with Union Jacks, balloon-sellers bouncing their wares at every corner and a military band playing at full and cheerful blast on the hustings in front of the Angel Hotel. Little Miss Pettie declared she couldn’t hear a word anyone was saying, but wasn’t it grand? And the Mayor declared it was ‘Capital! Capital! Capital!’ And Mr Cole who kept a bookshop in the Buttermarket and was usually the quietest of men, was in such an emotional state he couldn’t answer her greeting for blowing his nose and coughing.

  At the corner of Abbeygate Street she paused in her progress to look down the hill towards her house, and the sight of it reminded her of Annie and Beau and little Jimmy. I will buy him a balloon, she thought, and she turned back to the balloon-seller at once. ‘A red one,’ she said, pointing to her choice, which was bobbing like a live thing in the centre of the pack.

  But the red balloon was even wilier than she was. The moment it had been disentangled from its restraining companion, it slipped its string, caught the next strong gust of air and went floating off uphill, above the roofs and chimneys of Abbeygate Street, lilting and dancing as it went, blood-bold against the blue sky.

  The balloon-seller was most upset. ‘I’m sorry ma’am,’ he said, fumbling with the strings. ‘An’ the very one you was wantin’.’ But Nan wasn’t sorry at all. She was watching the balloon’s escape with a marvellous sense of release and fellow-feeling. That’s just like me, she was thinking, set free, cut loose, going up and up wherever the wind takes it. Oh, there’s no stopping it. And she watched its erratic upward progress with delight.

  ‘’Tis downright vexation, so ’tis,’ the balloon-seller said, watching his little profit disappear. ‘Dratted thing!’

  ‘That’s a free spirit,’ Nan told him laughing. ‘That’s progress, that is. Now find me a tame one for my little grandson. I’ve a busy day ahead of me.’

  And so it was, marvellously, rewardingly busy, with meats to buy for her victory dinner, and rooms to prepare for all her visitors, to say nothing of a ball-gown to alter and two local shops to visit. And the next day she woke early to the sound of hammering and got up to find that the May Fair was being erected in the square outside her bedroom window.

  ‘What sport!’ she said to Bessie, who came into the room almost at once in answer to the bell. ‘A Victory Ball, a family dinner and a fair on top of all. Jimmy will love it.’

  ‘An’ so will young Tom,’ his mother said. ‘I never know’d such a boy fer the swings.’

  ‘Two sets this year,’ Nan said with approval. ‘And a coconut shy, look ’ee there.’ And a merry-go-round and beer tents and gin tents, and stalls selling everything from brandy balls and oysters to bootlaces and horse brasses. ‘What could be better?’

  The rest of the day passed in a bustle of excited preparation, with meats to roast and puddings to boil and pies to bake and the whole house spiced with the aroma of cooking. Annie and her family arrived in the middle of the afternoon and of course little Jimmy had to be taken to the Fair at once. He was still on the swings with his grandmother and Pollyanna and young Tom, when the London coach came rattling into the square with Johnnie and Billy and Mr Teshmaker aboard. By now there was such a crowd and so much noise in the square that conversation was quite impossible.

  ‘I will tell ’ee my news at dinner,’ Nan called down to them from the swing. ‘Look after Mr Teshmaker, boys.’

  ‘Is Mr Leigh to join us?’ Billy called back, but the swing had already taken her out of earshot.

  Neither his brother-in-law nor his sister knew the answer either, although as Annie pointed out, the table had been set for eight, so it looked likely. And, sure enough, twenty minutes before the meal was due to be served, the gentleman galloped in to Angel Hill in fine style on a new bay mare. ‘And who bought that for him, I should like to know?’ Johnnie said to his brother as they watched the arrival from their bedroom window.

  ‘’Twill be a wedding present, sure as fate,’ Billy said gloomily. And he went down to dinner quite melancholy.

  But it was such an excellent meal, with five full courses and elaborate sugar fancies between each and every one, and a plentiful supply of good wines, that he cheered up almost at once, especially as the talk was all of family and business, and he and Johnnie were petted and praised for their part in the new expansion. They dined well, enjoying one another’s company, and Mr Leigh cracked jokes and filled glasses and kept the conversation flowing in his usual easy way. It was over two hours before the butler arrived with the port and brandy to finish the meal and still not a word had been said about the wedding. Annie and Bessie looked across at Nan for the signal to withdraw.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘We will all take brandy together today. ’Tis a special occasion and I’ve special things to say to ’ee.’

  So the brandy was poured and the port passed and her family exchanged glances with one another and then looked at her and waited.

  ‘I have asked you all to dine with me today for a purpose,’ she said. ‘It en’t just a victory we’ve to celebrate, for I’ve things to say to ’ee that will concern ’ee, each and every one, being as we’re a family firm. You’ve heard how I mean to expand to writing-paper and pens and ink. There’s a demand for such articles already and one that’s like to grow now that the war is over. I mean to make our business grow with the demand, so I do, and far beyond London what’s more. That being so, I can tell ’ee ’twill not be long before ’tis too big for any one person to run. Too big even for me, and I’ve a deal more energy than most.’

  They smiled and laughed in agreement at that, and she noticed that Annie looked at Calverley.

  ‘So,’ she went on, ‘I been a-giving the matter the most careful thought and it do seem to me that changes will need to be made. There are some have urged me to marry and share the burden with a husband, and there was a time when I agreed to it, under duress, mark you. But I have to tell ’ee I en’t the marrying kind and that’s the truth of it. I been a widow too long and I like my independence. So what I propose to do is this. I propose to take my two sons into the firm as managers, Billy to take charge of warehousing and distribution, Johnnie to be responsible for sales throughout the country, with salaries commensurate, as you would expect. That being so, the firm will henceforth be known as A. Easter and Sons. I have given orders for the London signs to be altered as from today.’

  There was a stir about the table as people turned to congratulate Billy and Johnnie, and she paused in her speech to give them time to do it. Bessie had to kiss them both, of course, which was only to be expected, and Annie was saying, ‘Well done, well done.’ Calverley said, ‘Bravo!’ and she looked across at him and smiled, admiring his style.

  ‘You won’t regret it, Mama,’ Billy said happily, grinning at her.

  ‘I know that,’ she said, smiling back.

  Johnnie was looking extremely serious. ‘In two years Mama,’ he said solemnly, ‘I will double your profits. I give you my word.’

  And she smiled at him too, as various hands clapped in approval. And then the stir subsided and all eyes turned towards her again.

  ‘In addition,’ she said, continuing, ‘I intend to organize sales on a regional basis, with one manager in charge of each region. ’Twill take some little time, I know. Howsomever, East Anglia is well established alrea
dy. We got a capital manager for East Anglia in Mr Thistlethwaite and living right here in this very house. And I tell ’ee, I can think of no one better to handle the London trade than my old friend Mr Cosmo Teshmaker.’

  Heads swivelled at once to look at Cosmo and to her great delight she saw that he was blushing with pleasure.

  ‘You do me a great honour, Mrs Easter,’ he said, smiling gravely at her.

  ‘Squit!’ she said cheerfully. ‘I know a good man when I see one.’ And sitting opposite him was another. Dear old Thiss. Dear old dependable Thiss, grinning and approving.

  So the fortunes of the firm of ‘A Easter and Sons’ and the future of its founder were settled. And Nan looked at Calverley again, facing her at the other end of the table.

  He was sitting very still, brooding and watchful and more like a leopard than she’d ever seen him, looking round the table, gathering their attention. She realized that he was going to make a speech too.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, smiling lazily, ‘may I beg a moment of your attention?’ And they gave it, in their various ways, Thiss guardedly, Annie sadly, Cosmo with just the merest hint of triumph on his quiet face, Bessie with sympathy.

  ‘I too have reached a moment of change,’ he said. ‘My seven year contract with Mr Chaplin’s firm ran out last year, as some of you may know, and since then I have been giving serious thought to the direction my life should take. Now that this long war is finally over and Boney safely escorted to Elba by our gallant men o’ war, I feel the time has come for me to depart too. But to a more hospitable island, I promise you. It has long been my – ah – intention to leave this country and join my brother on his stud farm in Ireland – as Mrs Easter will confirm. That being so, I should tell ’ee that this will be my last night in this house, for I leave for Ireland at first light tomorrow. Eat, drink and be merry my friends, for tomorrow we part.’

  ‘Good luck to ’ee sir,’ Thiss said, raising his glass. ‘I drink to your success, sir.’

  ‘Well, as to that,’ Calverley said smoothly, ‘I feel we should all drink to the continuing success of the firm of “A. Easter and Sons.” I give you, “The Firm”, ladies and gentlemen. “The Firm”.’ It was admirably done, and watching him, Nan was suddenly torn with pity for him, because he was so handsome and he had such style and she’d loved him for so long and with such passion, and now she was rejecting him. But the future was calling to her, and much too powerfully to allow her to deny it for a spasm of pity.