The agent gave them details of the monthly rent required, and Grant said, "It is far too high for a house in this state, and there are too many improvements required before we could consider renting it."
"Well, the owners are living in London, and they would prefer to sell it, if that interest you…"
"What are they asking?" said Grant, putting on a brave face before his wife, who was looking most dejected.
"About four thousand, but I think they'll take a fair offer."
"I'm sure they would. Thank you for your time, we'll let you know," said Grant, ushering April and Joyce out of the property.
Little was said on the way back to Joyce's home, as the three of them were most disappointed. Without a substantial deposit and a better salary, he could never afford it, and on top of that there were all the renovations it would require. "Best forget it, and look for a small flat," he thought.
Fresh tea was made and they sat in the sunlight sitting room chatting about the cottage. Joyce and Grant were in deep easy chairs on either side of the marble fire place, while April sat close to Joyce on the wide sofa between the chairs. They'd barely started drinking the tea when the door opened and Cyril's beaming face looked in at them.
"Ah, a full house I see." He came into the room and walked over to Grant with his hand outstretched, "You must be Grant, if I remember right," he said, shaking hands before sitting on the sofa close to April. He turned to her, saying, "And this little lady must be April."
April held out her hand and he took it into his large paw-like hand kissing her fingers and saying, "It is good to meet you, April, I've been hearing about your house-hunting quest from Joyce. Was the cottage around the corner in King's Road suitable?"
Grant saw his wife blush at Cyril's attentions, especially as he still held her hand, and to smooth things over he said, "It is a bungalow with a lot of potential, but far beyond our reach at the moment."
Joyce poured Cyril a cup of tea, and he released April's hand to take the cup. "Just what I need; a lovely cup of tea to settle the dust."
"It could be a lovely place, but needs far too much work on it," said Grant, keen to control the conversation. "We'll just have to keep looking, I guess."
"Don't give up," said Cyril, not taking his eyes off April. He patted her knee and said, "If you keep searching, you'll eventually find just the right place; I'm sure." His hand rested upon her knee and he took up the cup of tea with his left hand, all the time looking and smiling at April.
"Are there many properties available in this area?" she said, seemingly not sure what to say, and looking a little uncomfortable at this attention.
Grant saw her glance at Joyce for direction, but noticed that Joyce just smiled and nodded for her to relax.
Cyril said, "You'll have to ask Joyce about that, I'm afraid. She'll have a much better idea, and can tell you the best areas to look. Where are you living now?"
"We're living with my mother at her house in Leeds."
"Good grief, that's a long way and a terrible journey. There's so much traffic on the road these days, it's quite dangerous to drive all that way. There's talk of a motorway, but that won't happen for a long time."
They sipped on their tea, and finally Cyril settled back on the sofa, still close to April, but without a hand on her knee. He turned to Grant and said, "I understand you're with Granite Insurance, selling their new pension programmes. How's it going?"
"Quite hard so far, but I'm very hopeful about the prospects."
"Why are you working over this part of the country, if you're living in Leeds?"
"Well, the company want to open an office over here, if I can get some local customers to start the ball rolling."
Cyril turned back to April and said, "Do you know much about Stockport?"
Joyce stood up and said to Grant, "Help me with these dishes and I'll make a fresh pot and get some cake, while these two chat."
He packed the dirty cups on the tray, and followed her out to the kitchen.
"Put the cups in the sink and rinse them out, while I sort out the cake."
"Cyril seems quite taken with April, don't you think," said Grant, looking closely at Joyce for her reaction. He was quite worried about the big man's attentions to April, and even more worried about the way she preened herself and seemed to glow in the light of his warm courtesy towards her.
"Take no notice of it at all; he means nothing by it, I can promise you. He is very fond of young women and I'll talk to both you and April about it later, but meanwhile pay no attention to him and his over-friendly behaviour at all."
"If you say so, but I'm not sure I like it."
"Don't worry about the attention he's paying April, it's harmless, I tell you. If you want to worry about something, worry about the attention you're not giving me, after all these years."
His head spun around, his hands and arms covered in washing suds, "What do you mean, I'm not…" He voice tailed off as Joyce came and stood right before him, her large bosom pressed against his chest.
"Exactly, you're not paying me attention, like you used to – remember?"
"Joyce, that was years ago, and I was just 17-years old. It's different now."
She leaned forward and kissed him hard and long on the mouth. With his hands all wet and soapy and his back pressed up against the sink, he had no way of stopping her and when her hot tongue eased between his lips, he wasn't sure he wanted to. He felt an immediate erection harden and so must have Joyce, because she pressed her body into his, saying, "Now that's more like old times, and proves you wrong. It's not different now—we're just a little older and much wiser, that's all."
He felt her move away and he quickly turned back to the sink, scrubbing away at the dishes and wishing that kiss had never happened. He dried the cups and saucers and re-laid the tray, which was now burdened with a large chocolate cake.
Joyce opened the door for him saying, "Don't drop them, big boy," as she smiled and winked at him.
He was pleased to note that his erection had gone as fast as it arrived, and strode into the sitting room with some confidence. This soon subsided when he saw Cyril and April snuggled together at one end of the sofa. She was giggling at something he'd said—or done—and didn't even look up at Grant as he placed the tray on the coffee table in front of the sofa.
Joyce eased into her chair, and began pouring teas and said, "April, would you be a dear and cut the cake."
"Yes, I'd love to. It looks absolutely delicious."
"Give Cyril a large slice, it's his favourite."
"And mine," she said, smiling up at Cyril as she passed him the plate and fork. She cut a piece for Grant and he noticed she didn't even look up at him as she slid it over along the coffee table, but kept her eyes on Cyril. She giggled at the chocolate crumbs on his mouth.
"Just look at him, Joyce, he's just like a little boy," she said, chuckling away. She reached for her napkin and wiped his mouth, saying, "Who's a naughty boy, then."
Grant sipped his tea and nibbled at his small piece of cake. Looking up he saw Joyce gesturing surreptitiously with her hands, indicating he also had some crumbs on his mouth. He laughed and said, "I have chocolate cake on my face too, do I? April, do you think you can wipe the crumbs from my face?"
He saw her frown at his words and when she looked over at him he noticed her face harden and her lips tighten. With forced humour and a grim smile she said, "That's not chocolate on your face, darling, you're covered in lipstick."
CHAPTER 7
Luckily, everybody laughed at April's comment about the lipstick and so the tension was eased. The two women cleared away the dishes, and Cyril laid out his chessboard and encouraged Grant to have a game.
"It's interesting that you're getting into the pensions side of the business," he said, moving a pawn to k4 as his opening move. "I'm working on the small business tax returns for this district, and I can tell you in confidence that very few of them have any kind of pension scheme for directors or em
ployees."
"That's crazy, because look at the tax breaks they would get, never mind the additional benefits," said Grant, moving a black pawn to k5 in response.
"What companies have you approached, so far?"
"Well, I've not had much luck in Stockport, although to be fair, I've not really started here yet. I've a company in Oldham that I met yesterday, and they seem quite keen."
"How would you like them to agree to your proposals?"
Grant looked up as Joyce and April returned. Joyce took out her knitting and the two started chatting about wool, so he turned his mind to Cyril's question.
"I'd be over the moon, but they want to think about it and I don't think they're in any hurry to start, even though they are aware of the enormous benefits."
"Who's the decision maker?
"I've been speaking to the MD, Ron Robertson, of Robertson Mills in Oldham, and others on the board, but he has the final say."
Cyril put down his knight without making a move. "I know Robertson. He was in my office only a few months ago, and I helped sort out a major tax problem for them. Do you have his phone number with you?"
"It's in my brief case, in the car."
"Go and get it, I've got an idea."
Cyril followed Grant into the hall, and took the business card when he returned. "You go and chat to the girls, and I'll give Mr. Robertson a quick call."
Grant went back to the sitting room, closing the door before sitting down. The two glanced at him, but didn't speak as they were too busy with knitting patterns.
As he sat there, wondering what Cyril was saying on the phone, and hoping he would come in with some good news, he looked at his wife. The only words she'd spoken directly to him since the lipstick episode, was when they were alone for a few minutes and she said, "I'm disgusted with your behaviour, Grant, and want to see some marked improvement in the next few weeks."
He dutifully hung his head, saying, "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but Joyce kissed me and I couldn't…"
"That's enough; you can stop right there. It's always somebody else's fault. Yesterday morning you blamed my mother for kissing you, and now you blame Joyce for kissing you. What are you—a man so attractive that women throw themselves at you?"
"No, not at all, but I…"
"Grant, from what I've seen today, and on other days, you are more to blame than anybody else. You lead on my mother, and now you've started on my new friend, and I tell you it has to stop. Right now, okay?"
He could see that further protestations of his innocence, or arguments would be useless, and his best plan was to agree, so he said, "I'm sorry it's upset you, sweetheart, I promise it will never happen again."
"What also annoys me no end," said April, who dismissed his apology with an angry wave of her hand, "Is that you seem to be going after women twice my age. What is it, don't you love me anymore?" She dabbed a handkerchief at her eyes, which welled up with large tears as she looked right at him and said, "Don't you find me attractive; the way you used to when we first married?"
"Of course I do, darling, I guess it's just the pressure of work."
"Well, that's another thing you better sort out very soon, before our whole world collapses in ruin. We're living with my mother, driving hours each day in the car, and spending money instead of making it, and I'm fed up with it all." The tears gushed again, but when he went to console her she pushed him away and rushed out of the room.
He watched her now, chatting about knitting with Joyce as if she hadn't a care in the world. Through the door he could faintly hear Cyril's deep voice on the phone, and he crossed his fingers, hoping for a rapid change of luck that would change his life.
Cyril's voice rose, then went quiet. The women stopped their chatter and as the door opened they all turned to look at Cyril. His face was stern as he closed the door and took his earlier seat next to April, ignoring the chessboard on the coffee table. He patted April on her knee and said, "Everything is going to be alright, so hide that frown and put a smile on your face."
Turning towards Grant he said, "Ron asked that you call on him at 10:00 a.m. with the forms and they will complete the contract and pay the deposit."
Grant jumped to his feet and went over to shake Cyril's hand. "Wow, that's fantastic, thank you so very much. You just don't know how much it means to me."
He took a quick step back as Cyril turned back to April, who flung her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth. She pulled back her head to say to him, "You are a wonderful man, thank you, thank you, thank you." With each ‘thank you' she gave him another resounding kiss, to the stage where it was getting almost embarrassing.
He did not know what to do, and was so pleased when Joyce came to his rescue by getting up and going over to Cyril and put her arms around them both, and kissed them each on the cheek a couple of times. She said, "This is fantastic, Cyril. Where's that bottle of cream sherry?"
"What a great idea," he said, freeing himself from April's clutches and going over to a cabinet. He brought back an unopened bottle of sherry and four glasses, putting them before Grant and giving him a nod.
Grant soon opened the bottle and poured generous amounts of sherry into each glass, before handing them out. He stood up, raised his glass and said, "Here's to Cyril, the greatest salesman in Cheshire! To Cyril, with our heartfelt thanks."
As he replenished their glasses, Joyce said, "I think you both better stay for dinner. I'll cook something special in celebration of this success."
"That's so kind of you, Joyce, but we have the long drive back to Leeds, so I don't think we can stay for dinner tonight. Can we take a rain-check on it for another day?"
"Well that's disappointing," she said, looking at Cyril.
He quickly got the unspoken message and said, "Why don't you to stay here tonight, we have plenty of room, and we'd love you to stay for dinner and spend the evening with us."
Grant was wondering how to say no, when April said, "Thank you, that's a great idea and we accept, don't we?" She looked at Grant…
"Yes, of course, thanks so much for your kindness, you're both so wonderful to us." he raised his glass to Joyce and Cyril.
"That's settled then, you can stay the night…wait a minute, though."
The room went quiet and they looked at Cyril, wondering what he had in mind.
"Why stay just for the night? Joyce, let this young couple stay here with us until they find their own place. What do you think?"
"Of course they can, that will be wonderful!"
"Oh Joyce, Cyril, thank you so much. I do so hate that long journey, and I love it here in Stockport – are you really sure it will be alright?" said April, looking pensively from one to the other.
"My dear, it's a done deal," said Cyril with a broad smile, "You're our house guests until you find a place of your own."
"I agree," said Joyce, raising her glass to April and then to Grant, who each responded.
"Right," said Cyril, taking charge, "You girls go and arrange the sleeping arrangements, and get the dinner on cooking, while I teach this young man how to play chess."
CHAPTER 8
"This is a large house, but we've made a few changes over the years," said Joyce, as she led the way upstairs. There was a landing that ran from left to right at the top of the stairs, and she turned to the left until she came to two doors. She swung open the door on the left, saying, "That's Cyril's room. She turned to April and said, "We've had separate room since the death of our son at childbirth, some ten years ago."
"Oh, I am sorry, how dreadful for you."
Joyce wasn't sure if she meant the loss of her baby, or living in separate rooms, but didn't wait for clarification and opened the door on the right. "This is our guest room; come inside it's quite large."
The room was furnished with a soft beige carpet, bright yellow curtains and a flowery yellow cover over the double bed. It was a corner room with windows on two sides, allowing the evening sun to shine in and brighten the already
cheerful room. There were matching wardrobes with a dressing table between them along the left wall, with two small armchairs and a small table set before the window on the far wall.
Joyce looked at the smile on April's face as she took in the warm ambience of the bedroom, and was pleased with her reaction.
"This is a lovely room, Joyce."
"Well, it's yours for as long as you and Grant wish to stay," she said, ushering her back onto the passage. As they walked along she opened the door on her left next to the guest room, saying, "Here's the bathroom, with all the normal fittings." They didn't enter, and Joyce went to the adjacent door, and said, "Here's our second guest room, which as you can see has only a single bed and is a quite narrow room. It was going to be our nursery."
She looked at April, who'd become quite pensive, and she wondered what was going through her mind. Joyce went to the end of the passage and opened the last door. "This is my room, let me show you around."
April gasped at the rush of pink from walls, to floor, including curtains and bed cover, and said, "Why, Joyce, you have a beautiful room!"
"Thank you my dear," she said. Pointing to the left she said, "That side is my bathroom and dressing room, and of course this is the main part of the bedroom, but come with me." She led the way to the right, where there was a deep bay window containing a heart-shaped white dressing table with pink accessories. On the wall to the right there were two curtains held back by cord, and between them was the entrance to a small sitting room.
"This is my private area, where I sit and sew, watching the life in the avenue," she said, leading April into the room. There was a chaise longue, pink, of course, along the wall opposite the window, and she gestured to April to take a seat.
"Let's sit and relax for while, and get to know each other."
April settled into the sofa, but look nervous, so Joyce said, "I hope you're not worried by Cyril's attentions, my dear; he's just an old softie, and means no harm."
In The Name Of Love Page 4