The Courtyard

by Marcia Willett

  ‘Oh yes!’ said the boy, putting down his spoon and beaming at Mrs Ridley, who was going out with a loaded tray. ‘That was smashing! May I stay up to see the New Year in?’

  ‘No,’ said John.

  ‘Yes,’ said Gillian simultaneously and they both burst out laughing.

  ‘Please,’ begged Jack, sensing Gillian’s partisanship. ‘I never have been allowed to. All my friends do.’

  ‘House rules,’ said Nell firmly, unwilling to let Jack be the pawn in a game between Gillian and John.‘When you’re a guest you obey the rules of the house. You’ll have to ask Mr Morley.’

  Jack leaned forward to look at Henry who had just got up to open the door for Mrs Ridley and seemed rather nonplussed by the powers suddenly attributed to him. He recalled the days of his youth and decided to compromise.

  ‘Bed as usual. Then you can get up just before midnight for a glass of champagne and to see the New Year in. How’s that?’

  He looked at Nell anxiously, hoping that he hadn’t rocked any domestic boats and saw that she was smiling. So was John.

  ‘You’ll sleep right through it,’ he said to Jack.

  ‘I shall wake him up,’ said Gillian over Jack’s protestations to the contrary and with a provocative smile at John. ‘Don’t worry, Jack. You shall have your champagne.’

  ‘Gillian’s nice,’ said Jack, waving furiously through the back window as they drove away. ‘I like her. You like her too, don’t you, Dad? I could tell.’

  ‘Yes,’ said John, after a moment. He slipped a glance at Nell who was staring ahead. ‘Yes, I like her. I like them all.’

  ‘I’m glad we’re staying on the way back.’ Jack settled into the small space left for him in the loaded car. He opened the paper napkin that Gillian had slipped him and saw with pleasure several of the chocolates that had been put on the table with the coffee. He slipped one into his mouth and sucked contentedly. ‘I like them all, too. But I like Gillian best.’

  John slipped another glance sideways. He took his left hand from the steering wheel and laid it over Nell’s clasped ones.

  ‘I like Mum best,’ he said.

  ‘Oh well.’ Jack’s voice sounded rather sleepy and he nestled into his quilt that Nell had tucked into his corner to make it as comfortable for him as she could. ‘That’s different, isn’t it? I don’t count Mum.’

  Eight

  THE PARTY AT NETHERCOMBE set the New Year off to a good start. Henry sold a second cottage, albeit one of the smallest ones, in the Courtyard and John and Martin sold two properties which enabled them to pay some of their creditors and earned them a breathing space. John’s volatile spirits rose and he was able to believe that things were going to pick up at last.

  Nell, relieved by this improvement, now started to worry very seriously about Gussie. There could be no doubt that she was going without things that were important to her health and she looked thin and haggard. When she mentioned, quite casually, that she’d been looking at smaller flats, Nell took fright. She could guess how much Gussie would hate living in quarters even more cramped than those she presently occupied and realised that her fears were quite justified. But what to do about it? She knew quite well that, even if she and John were in a position to do anything substantial to help, Gussie would refuse it. As she pursued her daily round, Nell’s thoughts were busy with this problem and, when Gussie fell ill with flu, Nell finally took matters into her own hands and telephoned Henry.

  ‘Nell. How nice.’ His voice was so warm and friendly that Nell felt her courage rising. ‘Are you all well?’

  ‘Well, we are, Henry. But Gussie isn’t. She’s got flu.’ His expressions of distress encouraged her and she hurried on. ‘Oh, Henry, I’m so worried about her. Oh dear. This is so difficult to say but … the thing is, I don’t think she’s managing very well. You know? Financially. She’s going without things. Food. And heat. And now she’s talking of moving into a bedsit. Just one room and a shared bathroom. She’ll hate it so much. And now she’s ill and there’s no food in the place and it’s freezing. I put the heat on when I’m there but I know that, after I’ve gone, she drags herself out of bed and turns it off.’

  Nell stopped and took a deep breath. Her voice seemed to echo on and on in the silence but at least she’d managed to say it all. She waited for Henry’s reaction.

  ‘Nell, this is dreadful,’ he said at last. He was obviously quite shocked. ‘I knew nothing about it. Somehow I just assumed that she was perfectly all right. How ill is she? Not in any danger?’

  ‘Not if she keeps warm and eats properly. I wanted to move her in with us but she wouldn’t hear of it. The doctor goes in every day.’

  There was a pause. Nell held her breath.

  ‘If I were to drive up to Bristol tomorrow, would she be well enough to travel back to Nethercombe with me?’

  Nell closed her eyes with relief, thanking God that it hadn’t been necessary to suggest it herself.

  ‘If she’s wrapped up cosily and there’s a warm bedroom waiting for her.’ Knowing Nethercombe it was essential that this must be emphasised. ‘She mustn’t have temperature changes. Straight out of the car and into bed and I should think she’d be OK. I could check with the doctor. Anything must be better than that freezing little flat.’

  ‘Then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll ask Mrs Ridley to get the bedroom sorted out. Don’t worry. We’ll look after her between us.’

  ‘Oh, Henry, that’s wonderful. I’ve been out of my head worrying about her.’

  ‘I should have thought about it myself.’ Henry’s tone indicated that he was put out with himself. ‘I’ve been so taken up with things, the Courtyard and so on. I feel very ashamed. May I come to you first tomorrow and perhaps we could go round to see her together?’

  ‘That’s a good idea.’ He was making it very easy for her to protect Gussie’s independence. ‘She’s given me a spare key so that she doesn’t have to keep getting out of bed and I’m doing her shopping and cooking for her.’

  ‘That’s incredibly kind of you.’

  Nell laughed. ‘You haven’t tasted my cooking. And, Henry, don’t tell her that I phoned you. Listen. I shall go round to see her in a minute. I go in every morning and then again in the afternoon. Telephone whilst I’m there. As if you were phoning her just out of the blue. Then she can think it’s all your idea and won’t think I’ve been interfering or telling tales.’

  ‘That’s very thoughtful.’ Henry still sounded rather chastened.

  ‘Rubbish. I’m very fond of Gussie. And what about this bedsit business?’ Nell grimaced to herself. He would think her an interfering cow. ‘Sorry, Henry. I really don’t mean to nag. I’m just so worried about her.’

  ‘Well, stop worrying,’ said Henry firmly. He was quite confident now. ‘I shall do what I should have done ages ago. I shall ask Gussie to make her home at Nethercombe. She loves it here and there’s plenty for her to do, to keep her happy. Mrs Ridley will be delighted to have her here.’

  ‘But will Gillian?’ The words were out before Nell could stop them and she gave a tiny horrified gasp. ‘Sorry, Henry. It simply isn’t my business. I think it’s the most wonderful thing that could happen to Gussie. Although I shall miss her terribly.’

  ‘Well, you’ll have to come and see her very often. We should all be delighted to have you here.’

  There was a genuine note of welcome in Henry’s voice and Nell smiled to herself. What a dear he was.

  ‘That would be lovely. Now, if you’ve got a pencil I’ll tell you how to find me.’

  She gave him directions, told him to give her half an hour to get round to Gussie’s and, replacing the receiver, gathered up her belongings and hurried out.

  A FEW WEEK LATER, Martin dropped his bombshell.

  ‘Getting out?’ John stared at him in disbelief. ‘How do you mean? You can’t just give it all up.’ His voice rose a decibel or two. ‘What about me?’

  ‘Listen, John.’ Martin had been preparing himself f
or this moment. ‘The writing’s on the wall, I’m afraid. I thought that things might straighten out this year but it’s not going to happen. We’re too small to survive. Perhaps if we were in a country town and had rented properties on our books, or if we’d been established for years and owned this property, it might be different. But we jumped on the bandwagon at the last moment and I’m afraid it’s a question of last on, first off. There’s no shame in it. A lot of offices bigger than ours have had to shut their doors.’

  ‘Wait a minute.’ John looked dazed. He passed a hand over his face. ‘Do you mean that you’re just going to walk out? What about all the bills?’

  Martin shrugged. ‘What about them?’ he asked easily. ‘Can’t get blood out of a stone, can they? I haven’t got anything. Neither have you.’

  ‘I’ve got the cottage at Porlock Weir.’

  ‘Ah yes.’ Martin turned away. He pursed his lips and whistled tunelessly. ‘Well, I’m afraid that it may have to go, old boy.’

  ‘But it can’t! I told you that before. It’s Nell’s as well as mine. You know that. You can’t do this!’

  ‘It’s not me, John. It’ll be the creditors. If we close the doors they’ll be on us like a ton of bricks. I know we never had a formal partnership agreement but we’re both responsible, jointly and severally. Now, since I’ve got nothing, they’ll come to you. Nothing you can do about it. Not unless you keep the business running, of course.’

  ‘But how can I?’ John thrust back his chair and got up. ‘How can I do it on my own?’

  ‘Why not? It’s not as if either of us is qualified. During the boom that didn’t seem to matter and I don’t see that it’ll make any difference now. If I leave, you’re no worse off and it means that you’ve got more of the profits to yourself, doesn’t it? The business will only have to support one of us instead of two.’

  John stared at him. A muscle twitched in his cheek and his hands flexed, indicating his internal tension. Martin looked away from him.

  ‘I’m really sorry it hasn’t worked out. If you don’t think that you can carry on by yourself, then the only thing to do is to chalk it up to experience and try something else.’

  ‘Oh great! And that’s it, is it? Chuck my gratuity down the drain, borrow from my mother, lose everything we’ve got and then chalk it up to experience.’ John was shouting now. ‘Quite simple. No problem. And what’s Nell going to say? And what the hell am I supposed to do next?’ A thought struck him and he paused. ‘What are you going to do?’ he asked. He stared at Martin. ‘What’s your next venture going to be?’

  ‘Well.’ Martin paused. After all, John had to know sooner or later. May as well come clean. He cleared his throat a little. ‘The thing is, I’ve had a stroke of luck.’ He glanced quickly at John and away again. ‘You know that Janie and I have been having a bit of a reconciliation? Well, her father runs a very posh pub with a restaurant that’s almost famous. Janie and little Alex have been living there ever since we broke up. She works in the office. Well, her father’s lost his manager and, times being so hard and all that, he’s decided to give me a go at it. It means Janie and I can make another start. There’s no money in it but it’s a roof over our heads and so on. There may be a chance later to take over the whole thing. After all, I suppose any fool can run a pub.’

  ‘That’s what you said about estate agency. “Any fool can sell houses.” That’s what you said to me when you suggested that we become partners.’ John thrust his hands deep into his pockets, so great was the temptation to lash out. Martin was simply going to turn his back on him and walk out, leaving him to carry the can. ‘So you’re all right, then? You can walk straight into another job.’

  ‘Look, John, I’m really sorry. But it’s not my fault. I couldn’t possibly have foreseen this slump. There’s never been anything like it. Everyone’s been caught out. If you had my chance, wouldn’t you take it? Be fair.’

  They stared at one another.

  ‘Yes,’ said John at last. ‘Yes. I’d take it.’

  Martin relaxed a little. ‘It’s a condition really. The job goes with getting my wife and kid back. I’ve got no option.’

  ‘Yes. I can see that.’

  John turned away and Martin sucked in a deep breath and rolled his eyes. It had gone more easily than he had dared to hope. He looked at John’s sagging shoulders, his bowed head and remorse struck at him. Poor chap! He hadn’t got a hope in hell.

  ‘I really think that you should carry on, you know,’ he said. ‘Tell you what. Just had a thought. Janie’s dad’s loaded. I’ll tell him that there’s a few debts to be cleared up before I can get out. He wouldn’t want to think I was leaving a mess behind. I’ll see what I can do. Perhaps I could pay off the telephone bill and get the rent up to date. How about that?’

  John was looking at him with hope struggling in his face. ‘D’you think that’s likely?’

  ‘Sure of it.’ Martin laid an arm along his shoulders. ‘Get you straightened up so you can start fresh. I think you might do quite well on your own. Think what it would be like to have all the commissions to yourself instead of splitting them in half. And you always say I’m on the phone too much. You’ll probably find the bill’s half the usual amount when I’m gone.’ He gave him a little shake. ‘I really think it might work.’

  ‘Honestly?’

  The hope was still in John’s eyes and Martin had to will himself to stare into them and smile at him.

  ‘Sure of it. Tell you what. Let’s shut up shop and go down to the pub. My treat. We both need a drink.’

  I certainly do even if you don’t, he thought, watching John switch on the answering machine and pick up his coat. Poor sod! I give him six months at the most.

  Martin smiled confidently as John turned and came towards him. He opened the door and stood aside to let John go first. He’d been let right off the hook and he was grateful. The least he could do was buy the poor chap a drink.

  LYDIA WATCHED ANXIOUSLY AS Gillian pushed her cream cake listlessly around her plate.

  ‘I’m really sorry, darling,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t sympathise more. But I simply can’t. I haven’t got a bean till the end of the month. I could squeeze a fiver.’

  ‘Oh honestly, Mum,’ said Gillian despondently. ‘I need a hundred pounds. What use is a fiver?’

  Lydia, who could remember what it was to have secrets from one’s husband, knew better than to mention Henry’s name.

  ‘What about Elizabeth?’ she asked. ‘Perhaps she could help you.’

  ‘No chance.’ Gillian gave a mirthless laugh and sat back in her chair. ‘I’ve been warned. No more. The wedding was the last.’ She sipped her coffee and glanced round. Butlers was quite full this morning but there was no one Gillian knew. ‘She’s made it perfectly clear. The wedding’s to be my birthday and Christmas presents for the next ten years. Those were her very words.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Lydia clicked her tongue sympathetically. ‘Still. It was very generous of her—’

  ‘Don’t go on, Mum. I was suitably grateful. Anyway, she won’t help. Let’s forget it. I’ll think of something.’

  ‘Aren’t Henry’s barns selling?’

  ‘He’s sold two of them. The money all goes into doing up the remaining ones so there’s nothing spare.’

  ‘Well, I expect at the end …’

  ‘Oh yes, I expect so.’ Gillian sighed. ‘It’s now that I need it, though. Not next year.’

  ‘Perhaps your father—’

  ‘You must be joking. Look, just leave it, Mum, OK? Anything special you want to do? I’m meeting Simon at midday. He’s treating me to lunch.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Lydia looked at her daughter and Gillian looked back. A signal passed and Gillian shrugged.

  ‘Never know your luck, do you?’

  ‘And after all,’ said Lydia obscurely, ‘Henry’s put a lot of business his way.’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ said Gillian.

  When she pushed ope
n the door of Coolings wine bar an hour later, she saw that Simon was not alone. Cursing under her breath she approached the table.

  ‘Hello, Simon,’ she said and smiled at his companion as both men got to their feet.

  ‘Gillian,’ said Simon, ‘meet an old school chum. This is Sam Whittaker. This is the love of my life, Sam. Gillian Morley.’

  Gillian shook hands with Sam and slid into the seat beside Simon. Sam remained standing.

  ‘What can I get you?’ he asked, picking up Simon’s empty glass.

  ‘Oh, a glass of house red, please.’ She watched him make his way to the bar, a tall, heavily built man but light on his feet, and then glanced at Simon. ‘I need some money,’ she said without preamble. ‘I’m really stuck.’

  ‘Oh not again, Gillian!’ Simon shook his head. ‘This is becoming a habit. Your old man didn’t pay me that much, you know.’

  ‘Yes, but you got a lot of recommends out of him, didn’t you? From his farmer friends who wanted barns developed? Come on, Simon. I’m really desperate.’

  ‘How much?’ Simon looked annoyed but resigned.

  ‘A hundred.’ Gillian raised her chin a little as Sam turned to look at her from across the crowded floor. She met his gaze without expression and he smiled a little before turning back to the bar.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Simon shook his head in despair. ‘What do you do with it? Eat it? Have you ever thought of staying quietly at home?’

  ‘Not since Henry brought that old bat to live at Nethercombe. Honestly! It was bad enough before—’ She broke off as Sam came back with the drinks, relaxing back in her chair and arranging her features in a faint smile, eyes narrowed a little, enigmatically. She felt for Simon’s leg and pinched it.

  ‘Ouch! OK, OK,’ he muttered. ‘Just this once. Thanks,’ he said to Sam, who was passing round the drinks. ‘Listen. I’ve just had an idea about what you were telling me, Sam, before Gillian turned up. I’ve thought of a way that she can help you and earn some money at the same time. She’s just the girl you need.’