“Time is money Gareth. You lawyers know that better than anyone.”
When they arrive at the house, there is five minutes of clamour while everyone, including Oscar, greets Cassandra. Cassandra and Rachel shake hands and smile and Gareth feels a swell of pride in his wife for being so professional and at the same time welcoming, a swirl of children around her. Rachel ushers them into the relative peace of the living room and there Cassandra and Gareth work solidly for the next two hours until Eloise knocks on the door.
“Mum said to let you know dinner’s half an hour off and to bring you a glass of wine. It’s a Chablis she said to tell you, Cassandra, but if you’d prefer a soft drink just say.”
“Chablis is perfect, thank you.”
“Here’s your glass, Dad. And, just so you know, Liam’s joining us for dinner. Thirty minutes don’t forget. “ And before Gareth can say anything, Eloise backs out of the living room.
“I guess you didn’t know anything about this Liam joining us, eh?” Cassandra says, taking a sip of the Chablis.
“Nope.”
“New boyfriend?”
“Yep.”
“You don’t approve?”
“How can I not approve? He’s local, he’s a bright lad, studying at the London School of Economics, he’s polite and respectful but with a bit of cheek too and he’s got himself a job for the summer.”
“So your problem is that he’s perfect for your daughter.”
“Precisely.”
They finally call it a day work-wise when their glasses of excellent Chablis are empty. The aroma of garlic and thyme and roast chicken fill the kitchen. Liam is carving, Eloise is dishing up, Grace is popping an enormous tray of crumble into the oven. Rachel is sitting at the table with Jake on her lap, Iris and Nora like bookends each side of her finishing off their homework.
“What a lovely family scene,” Cassandra says, sitting down next to Nora. Gareth looks at her quickly from the corner of his eye to check but she is entirely sincere.
Eloise puts plates of chicken and roast potatoes in front of each person and large serving bowls of broccoli and mashed carrot and parsnip in the centre of the table.
Gareth looks down at his plate and up at Liam.
“How come the chicken doesn’t look like this when I carve it? This looks like chicken from a restaurant. When I do it, it looks like I’ve yanked the chicken off the bone with my bare hands.”
“All those Saturdays working in the butcher’s must have taught me something!” Liam grins.
“I knew I knew you from somewhere,” Gareth says. “That’s where it was. The butcher’s.”
Cassandra has already helped herself to vegetables and is tucking in.
“This is delicious. Thank you Rachel.”
“Most of it is delicious,” Nora says, drily, “except the carrots-n-parsnips.” She runs the words together into one. “Those are disgusting. Look disgusting and taste disgusting too.”
“Don’t you like it?” Cassandra says turning to her. “That’s my favourite bit. You only ever get it at home. I don’t think I’ve ever seen carrot and parsnip puree in a restaurant ever.”
“Poo-ray? That sounds even more disgusting. What’s that?” Nora asks.
Cassandra points to the carrots and parsnips.
“That’s not poo-ray. That’s mash,” Nora giggles. “Although it tastes a bit like poo if you ask me.”
“That’s enough, Nora,” Gareth says sternly, but Cassandra is smirking more than Nora is.
“So, Cassandra,” says Rachel changing the focus deftly, “what are you hoping to get out of the site visit tomorrow?”
Without missing a beat, Cassandra rolls off her answer, “I’d like to see plenty of factory space which will not need much renovation, a good and speedy transport system, excellent internet speed and a workforce willing to be re-trained and with a realistic salary expectation. Oh…and ideally a large grant cheque already signed by the Welsh government.”
Rachel pauses. Cassandra smiles.
“Just kidding. Just some of those things would be great. I’m not expecting a clean sweep.”
“Gareth has been really excited about the possibility of Perfect opening a factory in the Rhondda. I really hope you can pull it off.”
“Thank you. So do I.”
“Did Gareth tell you he might have family somewhere in Canada?”
“He did mention it. A great-uncle wasn’t it?”
“Yes, missing Uncle Idris. Last seen in 1926.”
“I guess no one missed him enough to go looking then?”
“Seems not.”
“But you named one of your daughters after him?”
Rachel looks at her, confused.
“Iris is named after Idris, right? Just without a D?”
“Is that right Mum?” asks Iris. “Did you give me an old man’s name?”
“Actually, thinking about it,” Gareth answers, “she’s not named after Idris as such but there’s an obvious connection. Funny how I never thought about it till now. Before you were born Iris, your Mum and I couldn’t agree on a name for you. And then Grandpa told us how if he’d been a girl he was going to be called Iris because it was a name his grandmother, Gwen, liked. Your Mum and I thought it was a lovely name.”
“Of course!” Rachel says, taking a sip of her wine, “I’d forgotten how we came up with Iris’ name but Gwen must’ve liked the name Iris because it reminded her of her son. How funny it is the way these things come about. You think it’s just because someone at some point just liked a certain name but there’s history behind it.”
Cassandra smiles at Iris. “Well it’s your name now Iris and it really suits you,”
Iris keeps her eyes fixed on the table, embarrassed by being the focus of attention all of a sudden. Nora takes advantage of everyone looking at Iris to surreptitiously transfer carrot and parsnip mash from her plate on to Cassandra’s.
When everyone is done, Liam helps Eloise clear the plates and Grace serves Cassandra plum crumble with custard.
“I normally don’t eat dessert,” she says, “but for this I am going to make an exception. It looks delicious. And these plums are an amazing colour. Do you know Grace – I think I’d like to see a Perfect shirt made in just that colour. We don’t have anything in our range like it. We’ve got plenty of lilac and a purple check but nothing like this. It’s a lovely dramatic colour, great for a shirt you could wear from daytime in the office through to a function at night. What do you think, Rachel?”
“I think it would look marvellous.”
“Just maybe not wear it with a beige corduroy skirt. You wouldn’t want to look like an enormous walking crumble,” Cassandra whispers to Iris through a mouthful of crumble.
“By the way, Cassandra, I should have said this sooner, thank you so much for the Perfect shirts you sent us. We both love them. I was already a huge fan, but now Gareth is too. And you got our sizes spot on.”
“You’re very welcome. You can thank Rupert, our VP of Marketing and PR for the shirts. He’s great at those sorts of touches and managed to wheedle Gareth’s size out of him when they met in London. I’m told he had to do a fair bit of sleuthing round the internet finding pictures of you on your firm’s website so as to take a guess at your size.”
“Well he got it just right so please pass on my thanks to Rupert. I hope you don’t mind my saying this, but there are a couple of design tweaks I think would be great for the working woman’s wardrobe…”
“Cassandra stopped working an hour ago, Rachel," Gareth says.
“Ignore him,” Cassandra says, “tell me what you are thinking.” She fishes out a notebook from her handbag and as Rachel talks of longer length shirts so they stay tucked in to low rise suit trousers and don’t flash your back and how she’d like ranges with and without pockets and the choice of longer sleeves. Cassandra makes rough sketches and jots down a few notes.
“Excellent, really good input Rachel. I love that sort of thin
g – hearing how real women wear our shirts. It’s invaluable. And good food and good company to go with it. I guess you could say it was just, well, Perfect.”
“Perfect,” Nora says, absent mindedly, staring at Cassandra’s largely untouched dessert bowl. “If you’re not going to eat that, can I finish off your crumble Cassandra?
“Yes you may. Even though it was absolutely delicious, it seems I helped myself to far too many carrots and parsnips.” Cassandra smiles slyly at Nora. “I’ve had a lovely evening, thank you all very much for the welcome, but I have a big day tomorrow and I need to get an early night. Would someone mind ordering a cab back to the hotel for me?”
“I can drop you into town if you like,” Liam offers. “I was driving anyway, and I’ve got my Dad’s car outside.”
“That’s very kind of you, Liam.”
“I’ll come and keep you company,” says Eloise. “And before you say anything Dad, yes I know I’ve got school tomorrow and yes Liam will drop me back here before 10pm.”
“Glad to hear it. Cassandra, I’ll pick you up from your hotel tomorrow at 8am for the drive up to the Rhondda.”
“See you tomorrow then, and thanks again both for sharing your family time with me.”
“I like her,” Rachel says after they’ve gone. “Easy going but very switched on. It must be great fun working with her.”
“It’s work, same as any other client.”
“How come you always get the best clients? I do exactly the same sort of work as you, and I’m as good as you, too, but you always get the juiciest referrals from the likes of the inward investment team. I would have loved to work on this job with Cassandra. She’s clever and sassy and I would have learned a lot from her.”
“Just the luck of the draw Rachel. I tell everyone that you’re a better lawyer than me. Let’s stop talking about Perfect now shall we? Is there any more wine left in that bottle?”
Chapter 19
Idris doesn’t understand why any wedding – least of all his own wedding – should take so long to arrange.
“It needs to be at least a year away, Idris,” Aeronwen had explained.
“Why? I was thinking next month. Two months at most. I want to be married to you Aeronwen. I don’t want to wait any more than we absolutely have to.”
“A year’s engagement is a respectable length of time. Any more than that will seem like unseemly haste. As if there’s a pressing need for us to be married, if you know what I mean.”
“Chance would be a fine thing,” Idris had mumbled under his breath. Once they were engaged, Aeronwen allowed long lingering kisses and permitted Idris to press himself against her but no more than that. These kissing sessions leave him fit to pop, which Aeronwen is well aware of and seems to enjoy.
“We need at least a year, anyway, to get the arrangements just right. A wonderful wedding day takes time to plan. And with this much notice maybe your family will be able to travel to Canada and attend after all.”
“Maybe, we’ll see.” His mother had written straight back on receiving notice of his engagement to say that much as it pained her not to witness her own son’s wedding she did not think they would be able to make the journey. It was too far and too expensive and Davey was still so very young.
Although Aeronwen’s father had consented gracefully to Idris’ request for his youngest daughter’s hand in marriage, he had imposed a condition. Idris must leave his job on construction of the railway viaduct and accept instead a job with Mr James in the hatter business.
“I need someone to take over from me at some point and my other sons-in-law have got good jobs already. Don’t take this the wrong way, Idris, but I really don’t want my daughter to be engaged to a labourer. You may as well start as soon as possible.”
“I’m a collier not a labourer; she’s engaged to a collier,” Idris had thought to himself but he had not said anything. He did as instructed and gave a week’s notice to his foreman. The Ontario Temperance Act having been repealed earlier in the year, he and his fellow workers were able to mark his last day in construction by openly drinking together a few bottles of beer and eating delicious pierogi made by the wives of his Polish workmates.
Idris is not well suited to many of the aspects of the hat-making business. He does not enjoy serving customers in the shop and after a few weeks of trying to instil in Idris the right skills balance of flattery and salesmanship needed to ensure that customers actually buy hats, Aeronwen’s father gives up and makes him foreman of his nearby factory. The workforce is small and skilled but Idris proves poor at this job too. His natural inclination is support of the workers not being a boss. He feels again on their behalf the sour taste of anger at injustice.
“You dock their pay by 15 minutes if they are as much as a minute late and pay the women less than the men for the same work. That isn’t fair.”
“I’m as fair as any other businessman in this City. Being any fairer won’t give Aeronwen and my grandchildren the kind of life they are used to. This is how we do things here Idris. You’re a bright boy. If you want to keep Aeronwen happy, make sure you learn fast.”
Idris swallows the sour taste down and takes refuge in the dusty office rooms above the shop. There amongst discarded stock and old ledger books he does not have to be obsequious to customers or hard on the workers. He concentrates on becoming good at accounts and on dealing with the suppliers, buying the felt and other materials needed to make the hats, keeping the books and organising the wages. It is much easier work than he is used to and for the first time in his life Idris finds he does not fall asleep immediately he gets into bed.
The lengthy preparations for the wedding bore him. He really does not care if the invitations are on white or cream card and what they should serve to their guests at the wedding breakfast. Aeronwen, however, enjoys the shopping and choosing, poring over magazines and discussing every detail with her older sisters.
All in all, it comes as a relief when Mr James suggests that the office rooms above the hat shop could, with a little work and the installation of a bathroom, be a home for Idris and Aeronwen at the start of their married life.
“If you live here for a few years you’ll be able to save towards a house. When you clear it out there’s more room than you think. There’s even an attic room right at the top too. It could serve as a nursery, when the time comes.”
Idris does most of the work himself, in the evenings when his day job at the factory is done. He enjoys the physical exertion involved in turning the offices into a home. He has missed feeling his muscles ache at the end of a day, the satisfaction of having done a day’s graft. As soon as there is some habitable space he moves out of his lodgings with Mr and Mrs Williams.
“There’s no need for you to move out right now, Idris,” Mrs Williams points out. “Your wedding is not for some months yet, and you have a comfortable home here with us.”
“I do indeed, Mrs Williams, and I shall miss it and your cooking in particular but I’ll get more done if I move in now.”
“Would you like me to run you up some curtains, then?”
“You are too kind Mrs Williams but Aeronwen has firm views on soft furnishings. I had better leave the issue of curtains to her.”
*
From the moment she walked away from Idris that first morning, swallowing so hard to stop the tears coming that her jaw ached as much as the rest of her from the operation, Jean focuses on ensuring she is useful to all at Parkwood.
On her return from church, Mrs Meikle gives her a tour of the grand house and explains its history and that of the family who live in it. It is a speech she has already given many times over her years at Parkwood.
“The house was built between 1915 and 1917 and there are 55 rooms in all,” she explains to Jean, “including the servants’ rooms on the third floor where you will live. There is an indoor swimming pool, a bowling alley and a games room and a billiard room with specially painted murals that were commissioned just a few years ago.
”
“That will make the cleaning interesting,” Jean comments.
“Just as well, for there is a great deal of it to be done,” Mrs Meikle says, drily, “but you should consider it a privilege to work for the McLaughlin family. Colonel Samuel’s father owned McLaughlin Carriage Works which at one time was the largest manufacturer of horse-drawn buggies in the British Empire. It was Colonel Sam who made the move into automobiles and established what was then known as the McLaughlin Motor Car Company in 1907. It made the McLaughlin-Buick Model F. Back in the early days, the company made only a couple of hundred automobiles a year. Now as part of General Motors it produces over a million and a half cars a year. That’s 44 out of every 100 cars produced in Canada and the United States. This year they have started production of a new car called the La Salle. It is a companion car to the Cadillac and the Colonel says it has set a new record for first year sales of any car in its price class. Are you listening, Jean?”
“Yes I am, Mrs Meikle.”
“Good. Automobiles have made this family very wealthy but you will learn that they remain very down to earth and kind people. The Colonel and Mrs Adelaide have been married almost thirty years now. Their five wonderful daughters – Eileen, Mildred, Isabel, Hilda and Eleanor – are all excellent horsewomen and Miss Isabel is an accomplished artist, too, and studied at Ontario College of Art. They are as dear to me as if they were my own. All grown up and moved out, now, but they are frequent visitors, especially the ones with children. The Colonel and Mrs McLaughlin also entertain often, which is something this house and its gardens lend themselves to beautifully. We had Miss Hilda’s wedding here just last year and it was one of the most beautiful days I’ve ever had the privilege to witness. There is never a dull day here, Jean, but nor is there an idle one either.”
“It will suit me well, Mrs Meikle, I like to keep busy.”
Mrs Meikle has trained up a lot of maids for Parkwood but none have been as quick to learn or as eager to please as Jean.
Every morning, Jean has to be at work by 6am but she gets up earlier than she needs to so as to take a walk round the gardens. Even when winter comes and it is dark and cold out, she finds great joy in the Italian Garden where the Three Graces are to be found but also the Sundial Garden, the Summer House and the Sunken Garden.
Thicker Than Water Page 18