Her tears stopped as if turned off at a mains. ‘How much?’
He relaxed. Money always talked. ‘Say five hundred? That’s a bloody sight more than it’ll cost you to get the job done. On one condition. You have stopped working for me as from tonight. I don’t want to see you again.’
She gave a sly smile. ‘You’ll have to see me to give me the money.’
Damn her! Bertram thought. If he could be sure she was setting him up, he’d tell her to go to hell, but she could be telling the truth. ‘I’ll need a couple of days, and you’d better phone in tomorrow and tell Cissie your mother’s ill and you’ll have to give up your job, or some excuse like that, otherwise she’ll wonder why you haven’t turned up.’
After he dropped off Brenda – round the corner from her house in case her father really was on the warpath for him – he drove slowly home. He had got out of it rather neatly, but why had he been so stupid as to offer her so much? She would likely have been satisfied with one hundred, and his father wasn’t going to be pleased about having to stump up another half grand.
Bertram was in luck, however, Richard had more worrying things on his mind that night, and wrote out a cheque for five hundred pounds without even asking why he needed it.
Having been certain that Richard would be so disgusted he would have nothing more to say to her except to tell her that she no longer had a job, Phoebe was astounded when he came to her the following morning and said, ‘Will you come to dinner at Huntingdon tonight? We have a lot to thrash out and both my father and Bertram will be out.’
Her mind was not on her work that day; it was too occupied in wondering what they had to thrash out. He knew that she had once been a prostitute, and that Tam was in prison for manslaughter, so he wouldn’t want to marry her now.
Richard kept her in suspense until they had eaten the meal the housekeeper served, then, after saying that he wanted no interruptions, he led Phoebe to the drawing room. ‘I expect you’re wondering why I brought you here tonight,’ he began, ‘and, to be honest, I’m not too sure myself.’
Her heart plummeted. He must have regretted not telling her what he thought of her before. ‘Go on then, Richard,’ she said, quietly. ‘I deserve all you’re going to say.’
An expression of pain crossed his face. ‘First of all, I must tell you that I understand why you lied about your husband’s victims. You had not wanted to bring Cissie into it, and I admire you for that. However, as you no doubt gathered, I was struck dumb by the other things you told me, although I felt like taking you by the scruff of the neck and throwing you out. What did you hope to achieve by deceiving me? Did you expect me to marry you after you told me you were free? Did you plan to take all my money and then look for another fool to fleece?’
She had let him go on, her head bowed in acceptance of his anger, but now she looked up. ‘It had nothing to do with your money, Richard. I love you.’
‘Yet you didn’t tell me the truth about your past life – not until I dragged it out of you.’
‘I knew what would happen. I knew you wouldn’t understand what despair and hopelessness can drive a woman to do, and you don’t know what it’s meant to me to have a man treat me so gently, so lovingly.’ Wiping away a tear, she stood up. ‘I’m sorry if you think I made a fool of you, because I didn’t mean to. I know I’ve hurt you, and that’s the last thing I wanted to do, so I’d better say goodbye and leave.’ She was anxious to go before she lost control of herself altogether.
‘Not yet!’
She waited reluctantly to hear what other accusations he had to fling at her, but he seemed to be struggling with his own emotions. At last he said, his voice so low that she had to strain to hear it, ‘Oh, Phoebe, I’m torn apart. You have no idea what this is doing to me. I even considered suggesting that you be my wife in everything but name, but I couldn’t insult you like that. Oh, I know you’ve done that kind of thing before,’ he added as she opened her mouth, ‘but I can’t ask it of you. It is against my own morals.’ He lapsed into silence again, as if searching for a compromise, and when he spoke, it was almost as if to himself. ‘I wonder if it is possible for us to go on as before?’
Phoebe held her breath. Why was he prolonging her agony? He must be disgusted at what she had done, so why didn’t he tell her straight out that he was finished with her? Or had he not made up his mind yet? Maybe it would be best if she made it up for him. ‘I think I should leave, Richard,’ she murmured. ‘I should have told you before, and I know you’ll never be able to forgive me for being what I was.’
‘What you were,’ he corrected her, ‘and I don’t condemn you, not now. I only feel pity that a woman as young as you were should have had to resort to prostitution.’ He gazed at her mournfully for a moment, then said, ‘I lay awake all last night trying to visualise my life without you, and I couldn’t. Besides, it was as though you had been talking about another Phoebe, not the one I’ve grown to love with all my heart.’ He stopped with a groan. ‘Oh, my dear, you’re a part of me now, a vital part. If I lost you, I wouldn’t want to go on living. I’m pleading with you now to divorce your husband so that I can make you my wife.’
The entreaty in his eyes made her want to cry out, ‘Yes, yes, Richard,’ but she couldn’t. ‘I’m scared of what he’ll do,’ she whispered. ‘I told you he’d a temper, and when he gets the papers telling him about the divorce, he’ll want to kill me, and he’ll break out of jail. He doesn’t know where I am, but I’m sure he’ll find me.’
‘Your address would be on the notification.’
‘Oh!’ she gasped, in dismay. ‘I can’t chance it, then.’
With a low moan, Richard came across to her and took her in his arms. ‘I’m not getting any younger, you know.’
‘Neither am I. I’m thirty-nine.’
‘And I’m fifty-six.’
He kissed her then, a kiss that told her far better than words how deeply he felt about her, and unable to hold out against him any longer, she said, ‘All right, Richard, I will divorce him.’
He held her so tightly that she could hardly breathe. ‘My darling, I’m so happy I could – oh, I just don’t know what I could do. I’ll give you my solicitor’s name and address, and he’ll make it as easy for you as he can.’
When Bertram came in, he frowned when he saw Phoebe. He had never liked her – he had the feeling she could see right through him.
‘I’m glad you’re home,’ Richard smiled, ‘so I can tell you our good news. Phoebe has done me the honour of promising to be my wife. You may not be aware that she isn’t a widow, but I have persuaded her to divorce her husband, and we’ll marry as soon as she is free, which should not be long.’ He eyed his son quizzically. ‘Aren’t you going to congratulate us?’
Bertram’s eyes were hard. ‘Congratulate you?’ he burst out. ‘For letting a common spinner take my mother’s place? If that woman’s moving in here, I’m moving out.’
‘You’re a grown man, Bertram, don’t act like a child,’ Richard said, adding peremptorily, ‘Apologise to Phoebe.’
‘You’ve a hope! If you think I’ll stay here and watch you making a fool of yourself with this – with this gold-digger, you’re right up a gum tree. What Mother left me comes to me when I’m twenty-five, and that’s only a couple of months away, so I can buy myself a house. I won’t need you.’
His face now as suffused with anger as his son’s, Richard said, ‘What your mother left you won’t last long at the rate you spend. I can guarantee that within a few years you’ll be crawling back here asking me to get you out of another fix. You’re a waster. A complete waster.’
‘Well,’ Bertram sneered, ‘it’s good to know what my father thinks of me, but you haven’t much room to speak, have you? You’ve been carrying on with this . . .’ He turned to Phoebe and spat out, ‘You trapped him into it, you bitch!’
When he slammed out, Phoebe burst into tears. ‘I can’t go through with it, Richard. Not if it means causing trouble between yo
u and your son.’
‘Please, Phoebe, don’t change your mind because of him.’
‘Your father’ll likely think the same as Bertram.’
‘My father thinks the world of you, my dear.’
At that moment, the door opened and Old Dick himself came in, hesitating when he saw Richard with his arms round the weeping Phoebe. ‘Maybe I’d better go out again?’
‘No, it’s all right, Father. Bertram’s been saying some rather nasty things about Phoebe and she’s a bit upset.’
‘That boy needs his arse kicked,’ the old man declared, at which even Phoebe gave a tight little smile.
‘We’re going to be married as soon as she is divorced, and when I told Bertram, he said . . .’
The old man gave a snorting laugh. ‘You don’t need to tell me – he hates the idea of another woman taking his mother’s place. Never mind, lass, you’re a better person than Lydia ever was – her and her lah-di-dah family. She looked down her nose at me for calling a spade a spade, you know. Oh, I maybe go a wee bit far at times, but me and you’ll get on fine. You’ll not go into a fit of the vapours if I happen to let off some wind.’
She couldn’t laugh, as he had no doubt expected, but he had certainly made her feel much better.
In his room, Bertram was pacing the floor in fury. So many weeks had passed since Cissie had scared the shit out of him by hinting this might happen that he’d come to think it had blown over. Taken by surprise, he hadn’t been able to stop himself. Tonight’s debacle had probably ruined any chance he had of getting a penny of the Dickson money. No man could have made a better job of doing himself out of his inheritance than he had.
It was too late now to do anything as far as his father was concerned. His old man knew him too well to believe any apologies he made, so that was out. And he would have to leave now he’d said he would; he wouldn’t climb down over that. Still, if he kept to the straight and narrow long enough for Dickson’s Supplies to show a whacking great profit, he might get round Old Dick, though giving up his women and gambling would be an awful sacrifice to make. He may as well be dead!
He perked up suddenly. Never say die! It would take time for Phoebe to get her divorce, maybe long enough to let him talk Cissie into marrying him. She was the only one of his acquaintances his grandfather would approve of, and she wasn’t one of those clinging-vine types. He could probably mould her into shape as a suitable wife for a successful businessman and a suitable mother for the heir to the family fortune. If that didn’t send him soaring up in his father’s – and his grandfather’s – estimation, nothing would.
Lighting a Sobranie, Bertram stretched himself flat on the bed and tried to work out a plan of action. The first thing would be to find himself a place to live; not anything fancy because he’d only need it until his house was ready, the house he intended to have built with his mother’s money. He would hire an architect to draw up plans to his specifications – a house worth calling a house, something that would outshine his father’s or, at the very least, equal it.
He went straight to Cissie’s desk the following morning. ‘I don’t know what you must think of me,’ he said, trying to look ashamed. ‘I’ve been acting like a spoiled brat. I was hurt because you said you didn’t love me, and I’ve wasted so much time. Can you forgive me?’
‘Yes, of course I can,’ she smiled, her heart speeding up with joy.
‘I realise now that people can’t love to order.’
She looked at him shyly. ‘I didn’t say I could never love you, Bertram.’
His eyes lit up. ‘You mean . . . you could?’
‘I could,’ she smiled.
So far, so good, he thought, picking up the telephone as soon as it rang. ‘Dickson’s Supplies . . . What? . . . Oh God! . . . How bad is it? . . . Yes, I’ll come straight away.’
The blood had drained from his face when he laid down the receiver and turned to Cissie. ‘My grandfather’s been in an accident, and Father says it’s very bad.’
‘Oh, Bertram, I’m so sorry! Is there anything I can do?’
‘I don’t know how long I’ll be at the hospital, and that’s our date knocked on the head.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Off you go, I’ll hold the fort here.’
A dishevelled and very anxious Richard met him in the hospital corridor. ‘The doctors don’t hold out much hope.’
‘How did it happen?’
‘As far as I can gather, he stepped off the pavement in front of a bus. I wish I’d paid someone to look after him during the day, he shouldn’t have been out on his own. He was inclined to be doddery at times.’
Just then, the doctor came out of the private ward. ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do,’ he said, sadly, ‘it’s just a matter of time. We’ve given him something to deaden the pain and you can go in for a few minutes.’
Bertram followed his father, not knowing what to expect, and the sight of the lacerated face and the head swathed in bandages made him feel ill. ‘Bertram and I are both here, Father,’ Richard said, gently.
The one uncovered eye swivelled round. ‘Silly bugger,’ the old man said, faintly.
For one awful moment, Bertram thought that his grandfather meant him, but the feeble voice went on, ‘Never saw that – damn bus.’
Richard leaned forward. ‘Don’t try to talk, Father.’
‘Not long . . . time’s come . . . keep Phoebe . . . happy.’
‘I intend to. Please rest now.’
The eye tried to focus on Bertram, but the effort was too much, and in the next second it had glazed over. The doctor who had been standing by stepped forward and lifted the old man’s hand to check his pulse. ‘He’s gone, I’m afraid,’ he said, sympathetically.
In something of a daze, Bertram walked into the corridor and waited for his father. ‘What happens now?’
‘I’ll have to get the death certificate before I can arrange the funeral, but there’s no need for you to wait.’ Richard’s voice broke suddenly. ‘What an awful way to go. I know you didn’t get on with him, Bertram, but I loved him. For all his faults, I loved him.’
It was the first time Bertram had ever seen a man weep, and without warning a huge lump came into his throat. ‘I . . . loved him, too.’ He was astonished at himself, but it was true. From the stories he had heard about his grandfather, they had been two of a kind, with an eye for a pretty woman, although the old boy probably hadn’t been as bad as he was. Besides, Old Dick had been a widower for over thirty years, and no matter how many women he had been involved with, he had never neglected the mill or used the profits unwisely.
Richard gave him a little push. ‘You’d better go, Bertram, I’ll see to everything.’
Unable to face going back to the warehouse, he drove home, telling Mrs Frain the bad news before going to his father’s study for a whisky. It was he who had been the silly bugger, he thought. If only he hadn’t been so damned stubborn, he would have done as his father and grandfather expected. A few years of hard work in the mill and he’d have been in clover. He’d have got half his grandfather’s money and been an equal shareholder with his father. Instead of which, he’d annoyed Old Dick so much that he’d left him nothing. Bertram Dickson, self-professed entrepreneur, had lost a fortune by his own stupidity.
Filling his glass again and draining it quickly, he felt better. All was not completely lost. His grandfather’s money would pass to his father and would still be in the Dickson family, and even if Phoebe McGregor got half eventually, there would still be quite a considerable sum for him – if he shaped up to his father’s ideal of what a good son should be. Marriage to Cissie was now a necessity – and a son to make doubly sure nothing went wrong. As her stepmother, Phoebe would make sure that Cissie’s child inherited a hefty amount when the time came.
Cissie’s heart went out to Bertram when he came back to work after the funeral. ‘I’m truly sorry about your grandfather,’ she murmured, awkwardly, and was surprised to see a musc
le jumping at his jaw. She hadn’t thought he had been so fond of the old man, but it seemed he was very upset.
‘Yes, it’s been a bit of a blow.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Any problems while I’ve been off?’
‘No, everything’s fine.’
‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you. Oh, what about that date I’d to cancel? Shall we make it tonight?’
Two days later, when they were checking over some figures together, he said, ‘I’ve found myself a house, so I’ll be moving out of Huntingdon tomorrow afternoon. I’d only be in the way there once my father marries.’
‘Maybe it’s best,’ she said.
‘I’ll be packing some stuff tonight, so I won’t see you, nor tomorrow night, because I’ll be arranging things in my new home.’
‘That’s all right. I understand.’
Once the move was made, Bertram saw Cissie every night for weeks, and although he never actually said he still loved her, she was sure that he did. When she shyly told him how much she loved him, he breathed, ‘Thank God! I couldn’t have borne it if you’d rejected me again.’
A few days later, while she was finishing work for the day, rather disappointed that he hadn’t said he would call for her later, he came up behind her. ‘I’m taking you home with me tonight, my darling. I’ve something to ask you.’
While she waited for him to lock up, she puzzled over what he might be going to ask her. Could he possibly be going to ask her to marry him? Was he taking her home with him to get her approval of the house they would be sharing?
In the car, she tried to picture what it would look like. A small cottage, perhaps, with a little garden front and back? A slightly larger house, but not as big as Huntingdon? She tried to imagine herself cooking in a modern kitchen on the latest-model gas stove, then in her mind’s eye, she saw an airy bedroom with a double bed covered by an eiderdown, and hastily turned her head away so that Bertram wouldn’t see her blushes.
‘Here we are,’ he announced, breaking into her thoughts as he stopped outside a tenement in Lochee. Noticing that she looked disappointed, he added, ‘This is only a stop-gap, and I took it furnished. It’s not my style, but at least I’m on my own, that’s why I brought you here.’
Waters of the Heart Page 17