Ring in the New

by Phyllis Bentley

  ‘He loved me better than he loved Chuff.’

  He remembered his curt refusal to enter Morcar’s beloved Syke Mill, and mourned.

  ‘One should be kind to people while they’re alive,’ he reflected. ‘Afterwards it’s too late.’

  The service concluded, and the coffin was carried from the church.

  4

  Will

  After they had committed Henry Morcar’s body to the flames—the crematorium was a cold, empty, varnished sort of building and the service was to match, thought Jonathan; he was reluctant to prefer the Anglican ceremony, but in fact did so—the family party strove to eat an admirable luncheon at Stanney Royd and then gathered in Morcar’s den to hear his will.

  Susie had suddenly become very talkative over lunch; her face was flushed, she related anecdotes, and at times even laughed at them. Jonathan well understood the rising hysteria which this indicated, but Chuff, he saw, was displeased, and Mrs Mellor and his mother in their different ways also showed dissatisfaction. When the party quitted the table Susie suddenly left them and ran away upstairs. Jonathan contrived to slip after her, unobserved, and caught her at her bedroom door.

  ‘You must come down, Susie.’

  ‘I don’t want to.’

  ‘You must, Chuff will be hurt if you don’t.’

  Susie sighed, but went down meekly.

  Jonathan perceived that Nat Armitage and Mrs Mellor had disappeared.

  ‘Shall Mother and I withdraw, Chuff?’ he said.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Chuff irritably.

  They grouped themselves about the lawyer, Jennifer and Jonathan in silent accord taking a more remote seat than the rest.

  Morcar’s testamentary dispositions were, except for a few small items, simplicity itself, and, thought the lawyer, thoroughly fair and what was to be expected. The very considerable residuary estate was divided into three parts. Chuff inherited one third, Susie another third; the remaining third was divided between Jennifer and Jonathan. Considering the various relationships involved, and the events of Morcar’s life, it seemed a good arrangement. But after he had announced the bequests of a handful of Syke Mill shares to the works manager, Nathan, and a pension to Mrs Jessopp—which were both well received—he noticed, as he had so often noticed on these occasions, that the principal beneficiaries did not look too pleased. Only Mrs Armitage appeared quite contented. Jennifer was indeed grateful to Morcar, not only for his allocation to her of the income from a specified sum, which she had more or less expected, but for his benevolence in giving her the independence of the sum outright. But Susie looked blank and cross; being under age, she would be subject, until her majority or marriage, to her brother’s administration for some years; she knew nothing about money, but wished to be responsible only to Jonathan.

  On the other hand, Jonathan wore a look of cold distaste.

  ‘I don’t want any Morcar money,’ he said irritably to himself. Tm not related to him. I don’t believe in the capitalist system of inheritance. I can make my own way. But I suppose I’d better keep my share, in case Chuff loses all the rest, trying to manage Syke Mill—which is all too probable. I needn’t spend the money,’ he thought, brightening. ‘I can save it up, keep it for Susie when she needs it’

  Chuff fixed his eyes on the electric clock on the mantelpiece in an attempt to keep cool, but in fact he was crimson and frowning. The largest number of Syke Ordinary shares were his; Jonathan and Mrs Armitage had none, but only investments, impeccable though perhaps less lucrative, outside textiles; Jennifer had a few Preference, Susie of course a large proportion of both Ordinary and Preference. Chuff understood that his grandfather’s wealth lay very largely in his mills and machinery, and that this source therefore had to be tapped to provide for Susie. He regretted this but accepted the necessity; he would try to buy them out one of these days, though no doubt he would have to sell Stanney Royd to do it. But it was not this which maddened him. No! It was Jonathan’s situation.

  ‘If he marries Susie, and of course he will, he’ll get control of her third as well as his own sixth. He’ll have more of grandfather’s stuff than I shall.’

  He tried to quell this mean thought, but could not, for he was furious.

  ‘There’s one good thing, even if only one, about all this,’ said Chuff mournfully as he drove Ruth home that night. ‘That new ring road is off, for the time being anyway. I shan’t have to see Syke Mill pulled down and find somewhere else to go.’

  This was true. At first the threat of the new by-pass to the fabric of Syke Mill was said to be imminent; in two years at most the clearance of its route would have begun. Then there was a hitch about the plans with the Ministry of Transport, and the word postponement was wafted vaguely through the Annotsfield air. Then there came a national financial crisis; priorities were now the cue, many large schemes were abandoned in face of others considered more essential. Now, it will be eight years at least, said people in the know; and presently, after another financial crisis, eight became ten. Morcar gladly, and Chuff sadly, then gave up all thought of new premises for the present.

  ‘If I’d had that to face as well, I don’t know how I should have managed; I don’t really,’ continued Chuff in the same mournful tone.

  ‘But Chuff, I don’t think you ought to feel a martyr about your Syke responsibilities,’ said Ruth, bracing as ever. ‘It’s a trust, a challenge.’

  ‘That’s what you think,’ said Chuff crossly. It was on the tip of his tongue to confide to her his vexation about Jonathan’s sixth plus third, but he was ashamed to do so, and refrained. ‘Ruth wouldn’t understand,’ he said to himself, and he felt vexed.

  5

  House and Home

  ‘I shall be off to Ormbury next week, of course,’ said Jonathan. ‘But would you mind if I stayed over the weekend, Chuff? Mother seems a good deal upset, you know. I think I ought to be near her. But I don’t want to go and stay with her at Emsley Hall, really. Would you mind?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ said Chuff irritably. (But even as he spoke, he knew.) ‘Stanney Royd’s your home, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not now, I think.’

  ‘I shall be glad if you’ll continue——,’ began Chuff.

  ‘No. It’s awfully good of you and I appreciate it tremendously. But it wouldn’t work, Chuff. You’ll be getting married, you know. A man wants his house to himself.’

  ‘Well,’ said Chuff in a tone of acceptance, feeling a sudden unexpected rush of pleasure. ‘But what about Susie?’ he growled, turning his head aside.

  ‘I shall always come to Annotsfield in the holidays—I’ll find some rooms,’ said Jonathan, adding quickly: ‘You know my hopes concerning Susie.’

  ‘Well,’ said Chuff. ‘You’re always welcome here, of course.’

  Somehow the last two words made Jonathan decide that he would never enter Stanney Royd again without a specific invitation. He nerved himself to request that Morcar’s photograph of his grandmother might become his own. Chuff coloured, and looking aside, agreed.

  6

  A New Career

  ‘What exactly did Grandfather do at the mill, I wonder?’ thought Chuff as he turned through the Syke archway. ‘He was always busy, and he often sent me on errands. But that’s not the same—I don’t know——’

  He walked into the main office and found all the heads of departments, foremen, and office staff drawn up in a line to greet him. Each in his or her own way offered words of welcome and good wishes.

  ‘Jonathan would deduce their characters from this, I expect,’ he thought sardonically, observing in spite of himself how one was pompous, another tongue-tied, a third fluent, another nervously tittering. He had no idea what to say in reply, and merely repeated: ‘Thanks—thank you,’ in a rather hoarse and grating tone. As they seemed to be stuck there, unable to get themselves away, even when he had come to the end of the line, it occurred to him to mutter something about: ‘Grandfather would wish us all to carry on as
usual, I am sure,’ and was relieved to find that with an acquiescent murmur they departed.

  ‘And where do I go from here?’ he wondered, stalking through into the inner office.

  For the last year or so he had occupied a small table and chair in one corner of this room, not too far from Morcar’s large desk, his grandfather often swinging his revolving chair and stretching across to hand him a paper or a pattern. From habit he made towards this familiar corner now. But the sight of the empty chair suddenly brought home to him painfully the fact that he would never see his grandfather again, and he missed him, not as the head of Syke Mills or even as a grandfather, but simply as a person, and he grieved. The big desk was laden with a considerable batch of business correspondence, arranged in neat piles according to subject and urgency. He took a tentative step towards it, but could not bring himself to sit down in Morcar’s chair. He was glad he had not done so when he was interrupted at this point by Nathan, who, naming one of their large retail tailoring customers, remarked that their pieces (a considerable number) were due to go out to them tomorrow.

  ‘Surely they’re ready?’ said Chuff, alarmed.

  ‘They’re being baled now,’ said Nathan with satisfaction. ‘I was wondering whether they’d like some early, like. This afternoon, you know? Show them we’re on the job.’

  Chuff at once, without thinking, sat down in Morcar’s chair and drew the telephone towards him. After some preliminary skirmishing with, secretaries—‘I ought to have asked Ruth to get him for me,’ he reflected—he found the voice he knew.

  ‘Henry Morcar, Limited,’ he said.

  ‘Yes?’ said the voice. It sounded cold and preoccupied.

  ‘C. H. F. Morcar here,’ said Chuff firmly.

  ‘Oh!’ said the voice, becoming suddenly much warmer. ‘May I take this opportunity to express my personal condolences about your grandfather, Mr Morcar—I represented our firm at the funeral, as I daresay you observed. I’m exceedingly sorry. I had a great respect and a strong personal liking for Mr Henry Morcar. He was a great man. A very great loss to the whole textile trade.’

  ‘How much longer is this going on?’ thought Chuff, anguished. ‘About your pieces due tomorrow,’ he said aloud.

  ‘Oh’ said the voice, cooling again. ‘Aren’t they ready?’

  ‘Oh, certainly,’ said Chuff. ‘They’re baling now. We just wondered whether you would like a few in advance, this afternoon.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said the voice in a reflective tone. ‘No, I hardly think so. All arrangements are made for their reception and allocation tomorrow. They’re baled as we asked?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Chuff, though he had no idea whether this was so. ‘We shall always comply with your instructions——’

  ‘Good,’ said the voice coldly.

  ‘Our relations, I hope, will be just as before.’

  ‘I hope so indeed,’ said the voice, and rang off.

  Somehow the phrasing of this remark disheartened Chuff; he thought it had a doubtful ring. He went down to the warehouse at once to enquire about the baling, and was greatly relieved to find that it was proceeding according to plan. The warehouse foreman was vexed to find this in question.

  ‘We always follow our instructions in this department, Mr Chuff,’ he said reproachfully. ‘Mr Morcar always trusted us to follow our instructions.’

  ‘I’m sure you do,’ said Chuff. ‘It’s just that—naturally—I’m very anxious at present that everything should go well.’ (How disgusting of me to play on the loss of grandfather in this way, he reflected.)

  The foreman, however, was soothed and nodded in agreement, and at this moment their talk was interrupted by the arrival of Ruth in a hurry, who announced that the Mayor of Annotsfield was waiting to see young Mr Morcar.

  ‘Good heavens!’ exclaimed Chuff, moving off quickly. ‘What on earth for?’

  The Mayor of Annotsfield was exactly what the irreverent youthful Chuff expected West Riding mayors to be: short, stocky, bald, with a decided West Riding accent. He began by offering condolences about Morcar’s death, which by this time were beginning to rasp Chuff’s nerves.

  ‘How does the mill feel without him, eh?’

  ‘Empty,’ barked Chuff.

  ‘Aye! I’ll bet it does. And what are you going to do about it?’

  ‘How do you mean?’ said Chuff.

  ‘Well, who’s going to be your chairman?’

  Chuff, astonished, was silent.

  ‘Or are you, happen, thinking of a merger?’ Chuff remaining silent, the Mayor continued: ‘I’m a York-shireman, and I believe in putting my cards on the table. You hold the controlling majority of Syke shares, I make no doubt. Harry will have tied it all up safe. Mergers is all the trend nowadays. Of course I don’t pretend my firm is anything like Harry Morcar’s—whose is? But it’s reputable and prospering—as far as anything can prosper under this government—and I think we should do well together. My son’s double your age; you wouldn’t clash. How do you feel about a merger betwixt us, eh?’

  ‘No,’ said Chuff.

  ‘You’ve got other plans in mind. Well, that’s that, then,’ said the Mayor, rising. ‘You don’t mind my mentioning it, do you? No harm done, eh?’

  ‘None.’

  The Mayor offered his hand. Chuff took it. ‘Now, take care, young man,’ said the Mayor. ‘You’ve a huge property here. And the goodwill and all. The reputation. Harry’s cloths were known all over the world. Don’t you go and throw it all away. Consult your accountants at every step. And get a good merchant banker to look after it all for you. Can’t do a merger proper, like, without a merchant banker. You’re young, you know lad, and not brought up in this country.’

  ‘I’m Yorkshire by birth on both sides,’ blurted Chuff indignantly.

  ‘I’m right glad to hear you say so, my boy,’ said the Mayor heartily.

  ‘And I took the full five-year course in textiles at Annotsfield Tech.’

  ‘Good, good. Now we’ll keep this just between ourselves?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Well, then, goodbye and good luck to you.’

  He went on shaking Chuff’s hand until the young man feared he would never get free. At last, however, he managed to open the office door with his left hand, and the Mayor took the hint and went out.

  In the main office Chuff was surprised to see Nat Armitage sitting upright on a stiff chair, rather markedly not talking to anybody. He rose as the Mayor entered and, bowing his head slightly in greeting murmured: ‘Mr Mayor,’ in a manner indicative of genuine though mild respect for the first citizen of the borough. The Mayor returned: ‘Mr Armitage,’ in what seemed to Chuff a rather sardonic tone, and passed on. Behind his back Nat made what seemed to be signals to Chuff, raising his eyebrows, moving his head towards the outer door, and so on. Not understanding what all this was about, Chuff stood still and made no move, whereupon Nat went forward, opened the door for the Mayor, conducted him down the steps and saw him into his car—which was not, Chuff observed, the official Annotsfield vehicle. Returning—he ran blithely up the steps; for his age he was in pretty good shape, reflected Chuff—Nat took Chuff by the arm, walked him briskly into the inner office and closed the door.

  ‘I wanted to have a serious talk with you, Chuff,’ he said, seating himself.

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Have you fixed a date yet for an extraordinary general meeting of Henry Morcar shareholders?’

  ‘No. Do we need one soon?’

  ‘Well, you’ll have to elect a new Chairman. It could be done in the first place by the Board of Directors, and confirmed by the shareholders, I expect. Who are your Directors by the way?’

  ‘I’ve met them and I know their names, but I don’t remember them—they aren’t anybody to matter much,’ said Chuff uneasily. ‘I’m one myself, by the way.’

  ‘Yes, I expected you would be. Mr Morcar floated when he bought Daisy Mill, I expect’

  ‘I believe so,’
lied Chuff, who only vaguely remembered what Morcar had told him of the finances of the company, for they did not interest him. He was not without sense, however, and though he had never heard the expression floated used in this way before, he guessed at once what it meant.

  ‘Who are you thinking of for Chairman?’

  ‘Can’t I be Chairman?’ blurted Chuff.

  ‘You could, of course. You own the controlling majority of shares, or rather you will do when the will’s probated; you can do pretty much what you like. But I must tell you I think it could be unwise, Chuff. You’re very young, and you weren’t brought up in the West Riding.’

  ‘The Mayor said that. I’m Yorkshire by birth on both sides,’ said Chuff. Anger drove him beyond politeness; he blurted loudly: ‘Are you wanting to be Chairman, then?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Nat coolly.

  ‘And where would I come in, then?’ shouted Chuff.

  ‘You’d be Managing Director, of course.’

  ‘Perhaps you’d like a merger, eh?’

  ‘I couldn’t honestly advise that,’ said Nat. ‘I couldn’t raise the huge sum necessary to buy out your shareholders—how many have you by the way?—and I see no reason why you should want to buy out the Armitage firm.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ said Chuff brutally. He longed with all his heart to utter aloud what Morcar had often said to him: ‘Armitages have had their day,’ but managed to hold it in.

  Nat coloured slightly, but did not move in his chair. ‘You’ve certainly got enough on your plate without adding any more,’ he said calmly. ‘Don’t decide now, Chuff; think it over; consult your accountants and so on. I would buy Jennifer’s shares to qualify, if you agreed.’