Sean was even winning his battle to retain American interest in London. Events helped. When a Greek Prince changed his name to Philip Mountbatten and married Princess Elizabeth, Sean and Michael put on an hour-long "CBS Special" to cover the wedding. The broadcast was a triumph - and it gave Sean an idea which was to earn him a fortune.
Sean's fees for his CBS work and newspaper columns were paid to Freddie's agent in New York. The agent took ten percent and sent half of the remainder to Freddie - thus Sean's earnings were reduced by fifty-five percent. He was paying an agent he had never met, and sharing his income with a partner who ignored him. Sean had allowed the situation to continue in the hope that it might bring about a reconciliation ... but after almost two years that seemed unlikely ... and now Sean was paying Michael as well.
The injustice began to irk, especially as he knew Freddie was prospering. Fleet Street gossip was full of praise for the magazine empire Freddie was creating in the States. Besides, that year Sean had received an early Christmas card from Ambassador Kennedy with a note attached: "Your old partner Freddie Mallon is doing well with his magazines. Of course he's Republican so he gets things all wrong, but I hear he's making a packet."
That decided Sean. He felt enormously sad to break the link, but Freddie seemed to want it that way. In December Sean formed his second company - The London & Continental News Agency Limited. The "continental news" was supplied by two freelance journalists who had quit London to work out of Paris and Bonn. By January 1948 he had renegotiated his arrangement with CBS. Seven Days was incorporated into their general world coverage, but Sean was to present a series of extended programmes on special events - starting that summer with the first post-war Olympic Games which were to be held in London. Sean's fee income from broadcasting trebled. True, not every paper in the United States renewed their subscriptions to his syndicated columns, but apart from the ten percent paid to his new agent in New York, the entire income belonged to London & Continental News.
Sean was at last fulfilling the dream which had brought him to London ten years before - he was acquiring some assets. With the sixth flat now let, Rutland Gate was yielding rents of seventeen hundred pounds a year.
"Even so," Tubby grumbled, "it will take us years to save enough to buy another property."
Sean shook his head. "You find the right place and I'll find the money."
And Tubby did, he found it in February, in fact he found two adjoining houses for sale in Great Cumberland Place. After a day spent measuring rooms and testing partition walls he forecast that the gracious old properties could be converted into sixteen flats - "But one house will cost eighteen thousand, and we might have to pay twenty for the other."
"Then there's the conversion on top," Sean said. "How much will that cost?"
The houses would cost as much again to convert. The Mallon Property Company needed seventy-six thousand pounds in cash!
Sean fairly buzzed with excitement. It was like buying the Gazette all over again. He sensed the deal before he could work it out - he just knew it was there. It was the trick with the assets, he told himself, use one lot to buy another ...
He called on bank after bank. Bankers were cautious. They had never heard of the Mallon Property Company. One pin-striped figure even said to Sean, "But you are a journalist, Mr Connors. Why not stick to what you know best?"
Sean saw eleven bankers in twelve working days. It was the eleventh who provided the finance - with a few strings attached. The bank would only lend fifty thousand, and to protect their loan wanted a charge on the houses at Great Cumberland Place and Rutland Gate. "Not only that," the banker smiled at Sean, "we shall need your personal guarantees. If anything goes wrong you could spend the rest of your lives paying us off."
Tubby groaned when he heard. "We're getting deeper into debt. Besides we need more than fifty thousand, we worked it out at seventy six -"
Sean shook his head. "Seventy-six to complete, but not to start. Even if we pay forty for the houses we'll still have ten thousand for work in progress. And if we live in a couple of rooms in Great Cumberland Place we can let our flat in Rutland Court. Rent from that and the others gives us a hundred and sixty a month. That's wages for a few men. Think Tubby, we've just got to phase it through, that's all."
Tubby was apprehensive and excited at the same time - and quite unprepared for Sean's next suggestion. "Leave Fleet Street?" Tubby gaped. "You mean work full-time in the property business?"
Sean nodded. "You'll have to if we get Great Cumberland Place. This job will need full-time supervision."
Tubby frowned. "I'll need something to live on. That will make a dent in -"
"No," Sean said firmly. "London & Continental will cover your wages. We can pay it back from the property company later."
Finally Tubby agreed. He grinned wryly, "Just so long as you don't take a wife."
Sean was a long way from that. There had been no one since Val, and no time to look since teaming up with Tubby. It was different from his partnership with Freddie. Life with Freddie had been fun; parties galore, dressing for dinner, wining and dining with the wealthy. Now Sean rarely attended a party, and when he did it was only for a story. However there was no time to look back - especially when the Mallon Property Company bought the two houses in Great Cumberland Place for £37,000.
By the end of April 1948, Sean and Tubby and Michael O'Hara were living in three dusty rooms in Great Cumberland Place - dusty because both houses were covered in pulverised mortar as partition walls were demolished.
Sean and Michael came home every night, changed into old clothes and busied themselves alongside Tubby. They did much of the heavy work themselves, labouring at night so that the skilled men on the payroll would make better progress by day. Never had Sean's nickname the Irish Navvy been more apt.
Yet stories and interviews poured forth from London & Continental News as furiously as ever. When David Niven married a beautiful Swedish model at the Chelsea Registry Office, Michael O'Hara was on hand to record the scene. When a carrot-haired American comedian named Danny Kaye brought the house down at the Palladium, Sean was backstage with a microphone. Gossip and hard news, social and political events, London & Continental News told the world what was happening in London.
Sean's finger was always on the pulse. He tried to look into the future. He wondered what Britain would be like in ten years. The whole world was changing - including the British Empire. The Indian continent had already gone, divided into India and Pakistan to accommodate religious differences - Burma had become an independent republic outside the British Commonwealth, Ceylon had acquired full dominion status - even the African countries wanted greater freedom. Sean interviewed a succession of black Africans as they trudged in and out of the Colonial Office. He remembered Val's old boss, Herbert Morrison, saying - "Independence for African countries would be like giving a child of ten a latchkey." Africans were supposedly so unsophisticated that self rule would not be attained for generations. But when Sean interviewed men like Kwame Nkrumah from the Gold Coast and Jomo Kenyatta from Kenya he wondered how long they would wait.
Meanwhile in Britain itself the Attlee Government pressed on with reforms. Not everyone was pleased. In fact it was Sean Connors who broke the news about Earl Lloyd-George, the fifty-eight-year-old son of the former prime minister. "I'm leaving England for good," he told Sean, "this British Government is the most inefficient since the Stuarts. I'm going to America to seek life, liberty and happiness, which cannot be found in England today."
One day Sean planned to go to America too ... but first he would conquer London. Maybe it was no longer Harmsworth's London, it was a city of restrictions and shortages ... but it remained forever London and was still in many people's eyes the greatest city in the world.
Kate O'Brien was quite sure that London was a great place. She and Jenny adored it and had come to know it well.
To Kate's surprise and Aunt Alison's satisfaction, Glossops had turned out a success. I
n a sense it offered Kate the best of all worlds ... school itself, easy access to Aunt Alison at Highgate, and a sanctuary from her guardian. She had been terrified by his reaction to her on her return from the United States. After all he was central to her future, he controlled her future. If he disliked her so much ... she shuddered at the possible consequences.
That apart, life posed few problems. Glossops had lost its terrors by the end of the first term. Kate and Jenny rode, played indifferent tennis but, thanks to the Moraine County Club, played excellent golf, and generally settled into the school.
With Lord Averdale away in Africa Kate spent half-terms and holidays at Highgate with Aunt Alison ... which was how the girls discovered London. Aunt Alison took them everywhere ... films, theatre, the ballet, exhibitions, the Tower, museums and monuments - "You can't have an opinion on what you don't know," Aunt Alison said firmly, adding a chuckle, "and what you don't know won't be worth having an opinion about by the time we finish."
It was exhausting but fun.
In the spring of 1946, Kate had a wonderful surprise. Her brother Tim called at the school. It was the first time she had seen him since 1939. He wrote in advance, saying he was being sent to London to see Uncle Mark's lawyers, and if he came to Glossops could they meet? Kate gave the letter to Miss Jenkins and explained the circumstances - and Miss Jenkins not only gave her permission to see him but excused her from wearing school uniform.
He was very grown up, but not so grown-up that he didn't go pink when some of the girls stared at him as he waited in the hall. Then Kate came down and introduced Miss Jenkins who said Kate must be back by six o'clock - after which they went to Windsor for the day, just the two of them.
"We've written eighty letters to each other," Kate said. "I counted them."
She felt nearly as shy and awkward as she had with her guardian and she blushed beetroot red which was so stupid. He's my brother, she thought - he's the only real family I have in the world, yet he's a stranger.
His hair was dark brown, chestnut with auburn tints. He seemed very serious. He walked normally, without any hint of a limp. She almost asked about his bad legs but decided against it.
"Jenny wanted to come," she told him, "but Miss Jenkins wouldn't let her."
They walked out of Windsor and along the river for a while. Conversation was so stilted that Kate became tongue-tied at times. Then the rain started and they ran back to the High Street.
"We could go to the British Restaurant if you like," she said.
The restaurant was awful. They shared a table with an elderly lady and her grandson. The child knocked over a bowl of soup and splashed everyone. The place was so crowded that people walked up and down with their trays waiting for seats.
Kate whispered, "I've only been here once, with Jenny. It was quite empty -"
"It's always busy on Thursdays," the grandmother grumbled. "I'm here every Thursday, it's always the same."
"Oh," Tim and Kate said together.
Afterwards they went back to the riverbank and sat in a shelter, staring at the swans. She asked about his accountancy exams and Ulster, and if he knew when their guardian would be back from Africa.
Tim said, "I think he'll be away for ages. From what I can make out we've been robbed left, right and centre."
She noticed the "we". He used it whenever he spoke of Ulster, very secure in his relationship with their guardian, and quite positive about the future - "Brackenburn will be rebuilt and we shall all live there."
"For ever?" she asked. The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
"Well of course, silly," he said. "That's always been the plan, for as long as I can remember."
"But you're seventeen," she said, blushing furiously again, "I mean, if you were to marry -"
"Marry? I don't think Uncle Mark intends either of us to marry."
"Oh."
The future seemed more muddled than ever. In one sense she felt relieved. If Tim were always there she might be spared the disapproving looks of her guardian.
He became quite talkative after that, telling her about Ulster - past, present and future. It was her birthplace but it sounded foreign. Uncle Linc had hated Belfast - "a goddam slag heap", he called it, but she kept that from Tim. Besides Tim was too excited about the future to listen. He expected to be appointed General Manager of Averdale's one day and after that go into politics. He would sit at Stormont and help run the country - "I might even end up as prime minister," he said proudly.
"And I'll run Brackenburn. I'll be your housekeeper."
"Not housekeeper - hostess, Kate."
It sounded very grand. She rather liked the idea until she remembered her guardian's scowl.
Gradually the talk flowed - they were less like strangers, more like pen-friends, she thought - it was impossible to think of him as a real brother - at least it was before he frightened her to death by talking of the Killing at Keady.
Kate was too terrified to take it all in. She had been told that her parents had died in an accident. But murdered! "How horrible," she whispered. "How positively awful..."
"The IRA did it," Tim said grimly. "Uncle Mark blames a man called Riordan but that's not right. Riordan carried me down to the stream. He saved me in a way. It was another man, big, with jet black hair and fierce blue eyes, I'd know him anywhere. I used to dream about him night after night. By heavens, if I ever get my hands on -"
"Don't," she pleaded. "Please don't Tim, it's too awful."
She trembled, on the verge of tears. He slid an arm round her shoulders - then a wonderful thing happened. She felt really close to him. For the first time in her life having a brother meant something. She poured her heart out after that, overcome by guilt, confessing she had wanted to stay with Aunt Alison for ever, never to come home, never to see him again.
"And it must have been so much worse for you," she gulped. "You never even had someone like Aunt Eleanor, let alone Aunt Alison. And you had the war ... and your bad legs, and that horrible Williams man at Berkeley Square, then Uncle Mark and going back to Ulster where people get shot and killed ..."
Tears came in a flood, but Tim was patient and kind and comforting.
She held his hand on the bus going back to Glossops, glorying in the knowledge that he was her brother. He was permanent family! And she was so proud of him. No matter what the future held, Tim would be there to face it with her.
Of course she told Jenny - or rather she attempted to - but when it came to retailing Tim's story about her parents Kate found she had shut her ears to so much that all she was left with was Tim's courage under fire. Tim was a hero in her eyes. Even the prospect of living in a rebuilt Brackenburn was different now that she would share it with Tim. In fact she was quite excited, although she was careful not to hurt Jenny's feelings - "I shall have a suite especially reserved for you and Aunt Alison at Brackenburn - and Uncle Linc too if he can get leave from the Embassy."
Jenny accepted graciously, though she did have some qualms about going to a place where people killed each other, and which her father had described as "a goddam slag heap!" However she was pleased to see Kate so happy and wrote to her mother about it.
The school went to Switzerland that first summer, or at least some pupils did, to study in the kitchens of the famous chef Marcel Bonnier. Kate and Jenny enjoyed it and were proud of their diplomas, although as Uncle Linc observed afterwards, "I don't know when we'll get to taste your cordon bleu cooking, this rationing goes on for ever."
Meanwhile Kate wrote to Tim every two weeks instead of once a month as before and Tim dutifully answered. He even stopped writing such things as "I don't know what would interest a girl" and instead simply told her what was happening. He sounded lonely to Kate. His life was all work and no play. Uncle Mark was still in Africa and sounded like staying there for ages - and poor Tim just worked and studied in Belfast.
That Christmas she was able to invite him to Highgate, to spend the holiday with the Johnstones. She was
thrilled. The people she loved most in the whole world would be together under the same roof. She looked forward to it for weeks - but was bitterly disappointed when it happened. They all seemed to get on, yet somehow there was an undercurrent. Aunt Alison was positively inquisitional at times - "I can't understand Lord Averdale," she said. "He seems to expect you and Kate to live with him for ever. Surely he realises young people grow up and want lives of their own. Doesn't he expect you to marry, either of you?"
And when Tim answered, "Well no, I don't think he does, not when Brackenburn is rebuilt and we all live there", Aunt Alison arched her eyebrows. "How extraordinary," she said.
Afterwards Aunt Alison had tried to make amends, by saying, "It must have been very difficult for him, staying with a houseful of strangers."
And Uncle Linc said, "He's certainly a very intelligent young man."
But they hadn't liked him much and Kate knew it. She vowed never to mix her families again. It saddened her and was a painful warning that she might have to choose between them one day.
After Christmas came the awful winter of '47. Glossops sent half the girls back to Switzerland. "The Swiss know how to deal with the cold," Miss Jenkins said in Assembly. The girls were there for six wonderful weeks, during which time they learned to ski. It was exhilarating and exciting, and surprisingly not cold at all.
The year passed - summer spent touring Scotland with Aunt Alison and Uncle Linc, autumn at Glossops and then Christmas again. Tim wrote to say he was spending it with friends in Ulster. Kate felt glad and guilty at the same time. Glad because Yvette Lefarge was coming over from Paris for the holiday, and guilty because she suspected Tim's "friends" were an excuse to avoid potential embarrassment with the Johnstones at Highgate. But Christmas itself was hugely successful and Kate was overjoyed to see Yvette.
Ian St James Compendium - Volume 1 Page 138