by Joan Jonker
‘You are twenty-five today, Andrew, and have never had a proper girlfriend. Heaven knows there are enough eligible females around who have set their sights on you over the years, but you show no interest. And I still say you could do a lot worse than Annabel. She comes from good stock, and she would be faithful, for she adores you.’
‘Mother, when I fall in love it will be with a girl who is right for me. It hasn’t happened yet, but one day she will come along. I’m prepared to wait for that day.’ Andrew could feel a headache coming on, and rubbed his forehead. ‘Mother, I really must go now, I have so much to do. We will talk about this subject at length some time. But I promise that when I do meet a girl I want to spend the rest of my life with, you will be the very first to know.’
His mother’s voice was subdued when she answered, ‘I’ll ring Annabel and tell her you are unfortunately not able to call for her this evening, and she should accompany her parents. And Andrew, my darling, don’t mention this conversation to your father, for he has so much on his mind, he’ll think it petty.’
George Wilkie-Brook was in the smoking room of the members-only club when his son came through the door. He quickly left his chair, and with an extended arm, and a huge smile on his face, he went to greet his son. ‘Come in, my boy, come in.’
‘I’m sorry I’m a little late, Father, but there was a lot of correspondence requiring my attention.’ Andrew grinned. ‘I must tell the truth and say that if it hadn’t been for Mrs Stamford, I would still be at my desk. She really is a treasure.’
‘Would I give you anything but the best, my son?’ George Wilkie-Brook had a loud, confident voice. A voice used to being listened to, and obeyed. Not that he was an arrogant man, for he was far from that. He was very down to earth, treated everyone as an equal, and was blessed with a good sense of humour. He never boasted about his success, but his bearing, dress sense, and easy-going manner in any company were signs that here was a man of means. ‘Will you have a glass of whisky before we go into the dining room, Andrew? I must toast you on your birthday.’
‘You have a whisky, Father, but I would prefer a glass of claret if you don’t mind. Whisky goes to my head, and I don’t think Mother would be pleased if I arrived home in a state of intoxication.’
George’s laugh was hearty, and turned a few heads. ‘You wouldn’t bear the brunt of your mother’s displeasure, my son, I would! But to make sure we both escape unscathed, claret you shall have.’ He lifted a hand to summon a waiter standing nearby. ‘One glass of your finest claret, John, and the usual whisky for me.’
‘If we’re going in for a meal, Father, we could take our drinks through with us.’ Andrew was feeling rather peckish, having eaten very little at breakfast time. Usually it didn’t matter what time he arrived at the office and he could breakfast at his leisure, but today was special and he had wanted to get in early to ensure that everything ran smoothly.
George laid his cigar in the large, round, solid crystal ashtray before saying, ‘I’ll have John bring the drinks through.’ He put a hand on his son’s arm as they walked into the quiet, select dining room. ‘I’ve made enquiries about the menu, dear boy, and the poached salmon and asparagus was recommended.’
Andrew rubbed his hands together. ‘That sounds very tempting, Father. I’ll join you. I won’t have the soup, though, delicious as it always is. I need to leave some room for the mountain of wonderful food Mother will have made especially for my birthday. After all her hard work, she’d be so disappointed if I refused to eat until there wasn’t a crumb left.’
George chortled. ‘Andrew, my son, your mother will not have seen the food until it is all spread out on the tables. She may know the name of every dish and every cake, and every bottle of wine, but if you asked her to toast a piece of bread, she wouldn’t know how. It isn’t her fault, for she’s been shielded from reality since the day she was born. She doesn’t know any other sort of life. Pampered by her parents, and then by myself.’ He swirled his glass and watched the golden liquor lap the sides. ‘I love your mother dearly, but I am not blind to her lack of knowledge regarding what goes on outside our close-knit social circle.’
Andrew took a deep breath before saying what had been on his mind since the day he became aware of how the Wilkie-Brook family lived. ‘And Charlotte, Father? Are you not afraid she is being spoilt? My sister is a lovely girl, beautiful to look at and full of fun, and she has loads of friends. She’s a good daughter and a loving sister. But what about when she gets married, Father? Will her husband be prepared to pamper her as you and Mother do?’
‘Don’t think I haven’t given that a great deal of thought, my son.’ George was suddenly serious. ‘I keep telling myself to be more firm with her. To cut down on her ridiculously high allowance so she learns to appreciate money. But I’m a coward where Charlotte is concerned, and keep putting it off. I admit I’m putty in her hands.’
‘We all are, Father, and that’s where the danger lies. You have to be realistic, for Charlotte’s sake. What if she married someone who wasn’t prepared to put up with her idleness and her love of spending money? What if she married a bully? She’d be devastated, absolutely lost. No one has ever raised their voice to her, or told her there was something she couldn’t have. Wrapped in cotton wool since the day she was born, she is ill prepared for any knocks that might come her way. And this is not jealousy speaking, Father. I am not jealous of my sister, I love her. And I’m afraid for her. She is nineteen years of age and the day is not far off when some man will claim her. I believe she should be taught more about life outside the rich society circle.’
‘How long have these thoughts been in your head, my boy?’
Andrew pulled a face. ‘The last couple of years, I suppose. When I first came home from university and joined the firm, I didn’t have time for anything but trying to take in all that was being taught me. Then gradually I noticed what an empty life both Mother and Charlotte had. Mother I can understand; her life is settled. But not my sister. Hair appointments, fittings for dresses she doesn’t need, afternoon tea dances, friends who are the same as herself, who have appointments with the same hairdresser. What an aimless life that is, Father. It doesn’t tax the brain or teach them anything about the ninety per cent of the population who are not in the same social circle. It is not a life I would want. It would bore me stiff.’
A waiter appeared with their food, and there was silence as he served the salmon and asparagus. Then, after making sure everything on the table was perfect, he nodded his head, clicked his heels, and said, ‘Enjoy your meal, gentlemen.’
‘I say, this looks and smells delicious, Father.’ Andrew shook his napkin open. ‘I am really going to enjoy it.’
George grunted his agreement as he tucked his own heavy linen napkin into the neck of his shirt. He didn’t reach for his knife and fork, but studied his son’s face across the table. ‘The pampered life wasn’t for you, was it, Andrew? It would have been if your mother had got what she wanted. And I have to say that when you left university and joined the firm, I thought it was just a fad and you would soon tire of the routine. In my heart I hoped you were serious, but I couldn’t be sure. So you can imagine my delight, and pride, when you not only turned up for work each day, but seemed to enjoy it.’
‘Oh, I did enjoy it, Father, and I still do. I know self-praise is no recommendation, but I have to admit I’m as proud of myself as you are. You’ll never know how grateful I am that you gave me the chance. It salves my conscience that I have worked for most of the money you pay me. Oh, I know I don’t contribute towards the beautiful house I’m lucky enough to live in, but I don’t squander the wage I earn, I do have a healthy bank account. And I am very happy, Father, thanks to you.’
‘You deserve what you have, my boy; you have worked hard for it, and I am very proud of you. But let us enjoy our meal, then we can retire to the smoking room and discuss business. My brain works better when I have a cigar between my fingers.’
George was in a thoughtful mood during lunch, as he tried to marshal into order the thoughts running through his head. His son had opened his mind to many things he’d been aware of, but was too cowardly to act on because of the disruption they would cause. His home was running smoothly, with no ripples to upset Harriet, his wife. And he probably would have let things carry on as they were if Andrew hadn’t been honest and outspoken. Now he realized changes had to be made, for the sake of his beloved daughter. Because he loved her, he had to prepare her for whatever the future held for her, while still protecting her from the harsh realities of life.
‘That was delicious, Father.’ Andrew patted his lips with the napkin. ‘Shall we have our coffee in the smoking room, and you can enjoy one of your cigars?’
‘Good idea, my boy. I have much to discuss with you regarding business and staff.’
When they were seated facing each other in the deep comfortable leather chairs, Andrew said, ‘You mentioned staff, Father. Does that mean you are taking more people on, or cutting down? I hope mine are safe, for we work very well together.’
‘We’ll discuss what I have in mind for staff later, Andrew. First I would like to talk about your views on how best to help Charlotte lead a more meaningful life. I don’t want to go at the subject like a bull in a china shop, but you have alerted me to the pitfalls she may encounter as she approaches marriageable age. Have you any suggestions?’
‘I really don’t want to interfere, for I don’t want my sister or mother to turn against me. I said what I felt in my heart, for I love Charlotte dearly, and would be devastated if her life was ruined because she knew nothing about the big bad world outside. She sees life as all milk and honey, and we both know that is far from the truth. Except for the very rich, who have never worked a day in their lives, and haven’t a clue how ninety per cent of the population live.’ Andrew sighed. ‘I’m sorry I got carried away, Father. I’m not a communist, far from it. I don’t begrudge anyone their money – how could I when I’ve lived in luxury all my life! You’ve worked hard to build up the business, and you’re entitled to everything you have. And I’m happy to say I earn a living now. But Charlotte doesn’t even give a thought to where the money comes from to keep her in luxury. And that is wrong. She should know money has to be earned, it doesn’t grow on trees.’
George tilted his head. ‘You’ve never talked about it before.’
Andrew shrugged his shoulders. ‘I suppose my time at university brought home the fact that life is not always fair. I had plenty of money to splash around. You were very generous and I was able to live the good life down in London. It took a while for me to understand that other blokes weren’t as fortunate. Their families were struggling to pay their fees, and unlike myself and the blokes I had chummed up with, there were no nights out on the town for them. And after a few years, I decided I would like to earn a living. The rest you know, Father, and I think you’ve heard enough from me. I hope I didn’t sound as though I have been anything but grateful to you for everything. You made me what I am.’
‘Nonsense, my boy, you proved your worth with your dedication and hard work. And now we have established that fact, I think we should get down to business. As I said, I wish to discuss the matter of staff. We’ll start with your office, shall we? Are you satisfied with the people you have, or dissatisfied?’
‘Oh, I am quite satisfied. The office runs like clockwork thanks to Mrs Stamford and the two typists. We get along very well with each other, and I wouldn’t wish to change anything.’
George and his son were alike in looks, except that George was a few inches shorter, and his black hair was lightly flecked with grey. The dark brown eyes were the same, as were the thick black eyebrows. And the eyebrows were drawn together now as he stroked his chin. ‘So, you wouldn’t welcome any changes in your office, then?’
‘That is difficult for me to answer, Father, for you are the boss. If you want to make changes, then of course I’ll fall in with your wishes.’ Andrew’s boyish grin appeared. ‘I have to say, though, that I would be sorry to lose any of my staff, for we really work as a team.’
‘I wasn’t thinking of removing a member of your staff, dear boy, I was of a mind to increase it by one.’
Andrew looked surprised. ‘I don’t require any more staff. We manage very well.’ Then he added, ‘But of course it is up to you, Father. What have you in mind?’
‘You have a spare office on your floor. I was thinking of making use of it for your filing cabinets. You will have need of more filing space when I transfer some of our clients’ business over to you. And of course, a young clerk will be required to be in charge of the files.’
‘This comes out of the blue, Father. How long have you had this change in mind?’
George tapped his chin. ‘Let me think. It must have been on my mind for a year now. I told myself that your hard work should be rewarded, and that on the day of your twenty-fifth birthday, I would transfer some of my business over to you. And on the same day you would become a junior partner in the firm.’ He laughed with pleasure at his son’s astonishment. ‘Well, have you nothing to say, my son?’
Andrew’s face was white, and although his lips were moving it was a few seconds before any words came. ‘I can’t believe it, Father, and I certainly didn’t expect it. I had no idea; you never hinted at such a promotion. When did you decide?’
‘As I said, it was probably a year ago. You were dedicated to your work, never late and never taking time off. And your loyalty deserved to be rewarded. Are you pleased?’
‘Pleased, Father, I’m flabbergasted! I never in my wildest dreams thought of this.’
‘I’m glad you like your present, dear boy. Happy birthday.’
Andrew left his chair to shake his father’s hand. ‘Am I allowed to tell our guests tonight that I am now a man of importance, or is it to be a secret for a while?’
‘Good heavens, no! You can shout it from the rooftops if you wish.’ There came a muted guffaw from George. ‘Not from our rooftop, of course, for your mother would be mortified.’
‘If you see me with an inane grin on my face, and a faraway look in my eyes, you will do something to bring me out of my trance, won’t you?’
‘I most certainly will! You have to live up to your new status, my boy. Cool and confident at all times.’
Still trying to take in the unexpected, but wonderful, news, Andrew managed a smile. ‘It may take a few days for me to manage that, but I will get there, Father, you have my word on it.’
Chapter Two
George and his son talked long into the afternoon, each at ease in the other’s company. Andrew felt close to his father as they discussed future plans for the business. He would have been content to sit there longer, and was disappointed when his father took out his fob watch and said it was time to make their way home.
‘I’ll leave my car here overnight and travel with you. It will save time, and we can talk some more.’ George chuckled. ‘Besides, I can’t say I enjoy driving.’
As they walked towards Exchange Station to pick up Andrew’s car, he said, ‘If you don’t enjoy driving, Father, I can bring you in each day, and drive you home. I would be more than happy to.’
Again George chuckled. ‘Ah, well, you see, my boy, your offer is much appreciated, but it would put me in a dilemma. I would have to ask myself whether I would enjoy being driven to work each day, or whether I would prefer the extra half-hour in bed. Being senior partner gives me some privileges, and one is that I am not tied to time.’
‘What would be your answer to yourself?’ They were nearing the bay where the car was parked, and Andrew felt in his pocket for the key. ‘Comfortable ride into the office each day, or a comfortable half-hour extra in bed?’
George waited for the passenger door to be opened, then slipped into the seat. ‘Decisions, decisions, dear boy. How much easier life would be if we didn’t have to make them.’
His hand on the open door, Andrew bent down unt
il his face was on a level with his father’s. ‘Let me tell you what I would choose if I were in your position. I would give it some thought, then decide the winner was half an hour extra in bed. And I would tell myself it was only what I deserved.’
‘Sound advice, my son. Now let us make for home, or you’ll be in danger of arriving late for your own birthday party, and your mother would be most displeased.’
As Andrew drove out of the city towards the outskirts, the conversation returned to business. And they were still on the subject when he drove through the tall impressive pillars fronting the Wilkie-Brook estate. There was a large front garden, with mature trees partly hiding the imposing house from passers-by. Andrew drove down past the side of the house to where the family cars were kept. The building had, many years ago, been used to house a horse, a carriage, and sleeping quarters for the groom. It now acted as a garage for George, Andrew and Charlotte. The back garden was huge, with lawns, flower beds, trees, bushes and an orchard. And it was immaculate, having a full time gardener to tend it. His name was Jim Woods, and he’d been tending the Wilkie-Brooks’ garden for ten years. He tended it with a passion that caused many a row with his wife. She accused him of loving the garden more than he did her. He denied it, of course, but alone in the garden on a summer’s day, when all the flowers were in bloom, he had to admit the pink roses were much prettier than she was. And they never answered him back, or kept talking when he wanted to be quiet.