Dreams to Sell

by Anne Douglas

  For some time after his mother had gone to bed accompanied by his sisters, Dougal sat on by the range, smoking a cigarette and staring into space, his handsome face blank, smoothed free of all emotion. When Roz and Chrissie finally reappeared, saying they thought their mother would soon be sleeping, thanks to her pills, he ground out his cigarette and stared at them without speaking.

  ‘Well, what are you going to do?’ asked Roz, pulling up a chair, as Chrissie said she was going to put on the kettle and make sandwiches.

  ‘I’m starving, eh? Worn out with all this trouble.’

  ‘There shouldn’t have been any trouble,’ Dougal stated. ‘Ma talks about me getting my own way, but she’s the one who wants hers, and usually gets it, too. Not this time, though.’

  ‘I asked you what you were going to do,’ said Roz.

  ‘I’ve told you. Get my own way on this. I’m not giving in. Ever since Dad died we’ve fallen over backwards to look after Ma, and I’m not saying we shouldn’t take care of her, just that we have lives too and should be allowed to live ’em.’

  ‘You know she’ll be depressed again!’ cried Chrissie from the table where she was slicing bread. ‘And if you’re away, it’ll be Roz and me that have to look after her. It’s not fair of you to put it all on us, is it, Roz?’

  ‘I think he has a point,’ Roz said slowly. ‘We should be able to lead our own lives – I mean, that would be the ideal. But we don’t live in an ideal world, eh? And families count.’

  ‘What d’you mean, then? You think Dougal should go and we should take care of Ma?’

  ‘Well, Ma’s here and she does need taking care of. What else can we do?’

  ‘You happy about that, Dougal?’ Chrissie asked roughly. ‘You get your own way and we look after Ma?’

  ‘I don’t like asking you to, but to be fair neither of you are planning to leave, eh? So, if I am, I hope you won’t mind if I do. And maybe Ma will rally anyway. I don’t see why not. She’s been doing well at the café lately. Folk do get better, you know.’

  Roz and Chrissie exchanged glances, then looked at Dougal.

  ‘Want anything to eat?’ asked Roz, rising wearily.

  ‘Wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘Make the tea, then,’ ordered Chrissie, setting down a plate of sandwiches on the living-room table. ‘I found a bit o’ ham in the larder cupboard – you’re in luck, Dougal.’

  ‘Listen,’ he said earnestly, ‘you don’t think too badly of me, eh? Joining the army, it’s something I have to do.’

  ‘We’re family,’ said Roz. ‘Just let’s leave it at that.’

  While their mother slept on, deeply and without dreaming, the three siblings sat together, drinking tea, eating ham sandwiches and still feeling like a family – of sorts.

  At least, thought Roz, I’ve had something else to think about apart from who’s going to take over Tarrel’s property department.

  Nine

  Having taken to her bed, Flo refused to speak to Dougal, just turning her face to the wall whenever he came in to see her, and telling the girls she felt too ill to forgive him.

  ‘Oh, Ma, that’s silly talk,’ Roz sighed. ‘You can’t go on like that. He’s been thoughtless but if he really wants to be a soldier you’ll just have to let him go.’

  ‘He knew how I’d feel about it and he just didn’t care, that’s what hurts. Now he’s put me right back to where I was before and it’s so unfair!’

  ‘He does care, Ma, but he thinks he has a right to make his own career, and he has a point, eh? Why not just accept what he’s done and see how things go? It’s true, he’ll be in the peacetime army – it’ll be less of a worry than if there was a war.’

  But Flo refused to be comforted and the doctor, prescribing more bromide to calm her down, said they’d just have to be patient. In his view, she wasn’t as bad as she’d been, and if she took her medication and thought about things for a bit, all might be well.

  ‘Aye, and in the meantime we’re rushed off our feet at Café Sunshine, with one of us having to take a turn with Mrs Abbot doing the cash desk,’ Chrissie complained to Roz. ‘And Mrs Abbot is none too pleased about it, as you might guess.’

  ‘Cheer up, you’ve got your young man, and you have a good time when you go out with him, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, I do, Roz!’ The worried lines disappeared from Chrissie’s youthful brow and her blue eyes sparkled. ‘He’s wonderful, he really is! Next thing he wants to do is take me out for a meal, instead of going to the pictures. Somewhere different from the Café Sunshine, too.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad one of us is happy,’ Roz murmured. ‘Meanwhile, I’m in suspense, waiting to see what happens at work. Everything depends on what sort of chap they take on for Mr MacKenna’s job.’

  ‘Might be a woman?’ suggested Chrissie, but Roz shook her head.

  ‘No, it wouldn’t be and it isn’t. I’ve just heard that three men have been shortlisted. There’ll be interviews in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘Could be someone nice.’

  Roz’s face remained glum. She couldn’t see anyone as nice as Mr MacKenna being appointed again. Folk weren’t usually lucky twice.

  Aware of how much it mattered to her who got his job, Mr MacKenna told Roz, after reviewing the shortlisted candidates’ applications, that she really needn’t worry.

  ‘I’m confident you’ll get on with whichever one is successful. The fact is, they’re all pretty much the same. Younger than me – one’s twenty-nine, two are just over thirty – all are fully qualified and ready to move on from where they are, and all are keen as mustard about running a property department.’

  ‘Have they had experience?’ Roz asked doubtfully.

  ‘One has – that’s the twenty-nine-year-old. He’s from a firm in the Borders that sells property in a small way, and obviously fancies running something bigger. The two thirty-year-olds are from very small Glasgow firms without much in the way of property interest as yet, but say they’re very keen. Shouldn’t be ruled out, in my view.’

  ‘But if they haven’t had experience of running a department, how will they manage?’

  ‘They’ll learn on the job, as I did. I was young like them when I was first appointed here and hadn’t actually worked in property. But when Mr Banks asked me to take over, I jumped at the chance and have enjoyed what I’ve done. Our successful candidate will probably be the same.’

  ‘I suppose so. He’ll be lucky, anyway.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’ll do what I can to give him a good start and leave plenty of information in my files. And he’ll have you, of course – that’ll be all he needs.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Roz agreed coldly. ‘I’ll be useful, then.’

  ‘I know you’ll do your best,’ Mr MacKenna said quietly.

  She knew she would, too, and said no more.

  Ten

  That evening, when she returned home after work, she found a pleasant surprise – her mother up and dressed and with a shepherd’s pie she’d made herself all ready for tea.

  ‘Why, Ma, you’re feeling better!’ Roz cried. ‘Oh, that’s wonderful!’

  ‘I’m better than I was,’ Flo admitted grudgingly. ‘But I’ll have to take care.’

  ‘Oh, yes, but just to see you up – it’s so nice!’

  Throwing her arms round her mother, Roz was thinking that this was the best piece of news she’d had for quite some time, and if it meant that there might be a softening of Flo’s attitude towards Dougal, that would be a tremendous bonus. For surely she couldn’t keep up her treatment of him while he ate her shepherd’s pie and she sat watching him, knowing he wouldn’t be at home for much longer? But Roz knew only too well that nothing could be expected of her mother. Always, you had to take things as they came.

  There was the sound of the flat door opening, and Dougal’s voice calling. ‘Hallo, Roz! I’m back!’

  Roz and her mother exchanged glances. The vegetables were ready, the pie in the oven was well browned – all they
had to do was serve up. But here was Dougal in the doorway, his eyes widening as he saw his mother up and dressed.

  ‘Ma, you’re up. I never thought … How are you feeling, then?’

  She tossed her head a little, then suddenly sat down at the kitchen table, as though her legs were weakening.

  ‘Better,’ said Roz, taking out the shepherd’s pie, her face flushed from the heat of the oven. ‘Ma’s feeling better.’

  ‘Getting better,’ Flo corrected. ‘My first day up, and I don’t feel that grand.’

  ‘It’s grand to see you up, though,’ Dougal said earnestly. ‘You don’t know how good that is.’

  Flo slowly turned her head to look at him. ‘You’d better go and get yourself washed,’ she told him tremulously, and as Dougal smiled and Roz smiled with him, they knew the storm was over, that their mother had come back. She had been away, but she was back, at least for the time being. It looked like she’d finally accepted what was to happen and that being so, maybe all would be well. Maybe.

  In fact, when Flo had later returned to bed and Roz and Dougal were looking in on her, it was Flo herself who asked how long they’d got before Dougal must leave.

  ‘I put in my notice some time ago,’ he said after a pause. ‘And I’ve passed my army medical.’

  ‘Had your medical! You never said.’

  ‘We weren’t talking, Ma.’

  ‘Oh, well, never mind – just tell me when you have to leave.’

  ‘End of April, I’ll be reporting to the regiment near Lauder.’

  ‘End of April? Oh, that’s no time at all – that’s too soon!’

  ‘Nearly three weeks, Ma. That’s not so bad.’

  ‘So you say!’ She put a handkerchief to her eyes. ‘I just hope you’re right, that’s all: that this is peacetime and you won’t have to fight.’

  ‘Ma, I’ll be training and all that sort o’ thing before I even get posted. You’ve no need to worry.’

  ‘No need at all,’ chimed Roz, then leaped to her feet. ‘There’s the door – it’s Chrissie. Oh, Ma, I wish she’d seen you up and dressed!’

  ‘Heavens, what a fuss!’ cried Flo, but when Chrissie came in, it was enough for her to see Dougal smiling beside Flo’s bed to know that Ma was better and had come back to them once again.

  ‘Oh, Ma!’ she cried, running to hug her mother as she lay back against her pillows. ‘Oh, Ma, I’m that glad, eh?’

  ‘I’m sure I don’t know what about. Your brother’s still going to join the army, you know.’

  ‘Ma, he’ll be all right, and you’ll be all right. That’s what’s grand, eh?’

  ‘I hope so,’ sighed Flo. ‘Look, is no one going to make us a cup of tea?’

  Eleven

  On the twenty-first of April, three young lawyers, formally dressed in dark suits, arrived at Tarrel and Thom’s at precisely two o’clock, to be shown by Miss Calder to the clients’ waiting room.

  ‘If you’ll wait here, gentlemen? Mr Banks will be along shortly to welcome you. In the meantime, may I get you some coffee?’

  The three lawyers – Mr Appin, Mr Franklin, and Mr Shield – thanked her and declined, each sitting down, trying to look at ease. When Miss Calder had withdrawn to inform Mr Banks of the candidates’ arrival, Norma, who had been hovering in the background, ran along to the property centre, agog with her news.

  ‘They’re here!’ she told Roz, who was at her desk, trying like the candidates to appear at ease. ‘The interview men are here! Miss Calder’s put ’em in the waiting room. But where’s Mr MacKenna?’

  ‘He’s already with Mr Banks.’ Roz jumped up, abandoning any attempt to look calm. ‘What do they look like, then? Are they nice? Did you like them?’

  ‘Honestly, I only saw ’em for a couple of minutes.’ Norma’s round brown eyes were shining. ‘But I thought they looked OK. Well, one’s a bit overweight, but there’s one who’s really friendly. I mean, he was smiling a lot, but it might have been nerves, eh?’

  ‘I just wish it was all over,’ Roz muttered, turning away. ‘It’s too nerve-racking.’

  ‘Anybody’d think you were being interviewed yourself, Roz,’ Norma said, laughing. ‘Why are you getting so worried?’

  ‘Well, it makes all the difference to your job how you get on with your boss, eh? It’s very important, I’d say.’

  ‘You’ve been spoiled, having Mr MacKenna, that’s your trouble. How about me? My boss is Miss Calder!’

  ‘At least you know where you are with her. These fellows are completely unknown.’

  Roz moved around the main office, tidying papers that didn’t need tidying, straightening Mr MacKenna’s pens and adjusting photos on the property wall.

  ‘I’m going to meet them, you know. Mr MacKenna is going to show them round the department before they have their interviews. We’ve cancelled all appointments for today.’

  ‘Oh, the fellows might be along soon, then!’ Norma cried. ‘I’d better get back to the front desk – Miss Calder wants me to look after it this afternoon.’

  As soon as Norma had left, Roz took her compact from her handbag and studied her face. Must look my best, she thought, but, oh, Lord, see those violet shadows underneath my eyes! Looked as though she hadn’t slept for a week, and it was true that last night, at least, she had lain awake for far too long.

  That was partly because she had been worrying over Dougal’s leaving and how Ma would take it when it actually happened, for though she was now well enough to return to work – just in time before Mrs Abbot sacked her – there was no guarantee that she would stay well when the goodbyes came. It was partly, also, of course, to do with what was happening today. Her own D-Day, as they’d called that day of invasion in the war – her own crucial day of reckoning, for this would be the time when her life at work would be decided just as surely as the successful candidate’s.

  Norma had asked why she was so worried, and Roz had tried to explain the importance of getting on with your boss. But it was more than that, really. More that she’d become so used to Mr MacKenna’s easy ways, so cushioned against difficulties, that she wasn’t sure how she’d cope with someone who might be different. Almost certainly would be different – that was the point.

  Oh, grow up! she told herself. You can do your job well, whatever happens. Just don’t worry about how the new man does his and how that might affect you. Powder your nose, put some more lipstick on, and look your best. The candidates could walk in any minute now.

  Sure enough, almost as soon as she’d put her compact away, they did walk in, shepherded by Mr MacKenna, all three looking around with interest at the department. And her.

  ‘Gentlemen, this is Miss Rainey, my assistant,’ Mr MacKenna told them. ‘My prop and stay ever since she joined the department. Someone I really couldn’t do without, and who will be as helpful, I know, to my successor.’

  As a quick blush rose to Roz’s brow, the young men nodded and smiled. Mr Appin, the plump one, soon looked away, as did Mr Franklin, who was wearing tortoiseshell glasses and was almost as thin as Mr Wray, while only tall Mr Shield’s gaze rested on her a little longer. And it was a friendly gaze, quite intent, from fine hazel eyes beneath well-marked dark brows, darker than his thick, light brown hair, and Roz rather enjoyed returning it. Only for a moment, though, as Mr MacKenna was beginning to outline some of the routine work of the department, moving the candidates on to study the property photographs before showing them Roz’s own little office and asking her to explain her duties.

  She managed that quite well, surprising herself with the ease with which she went through her work, before leaving it to Mr MacKenna to add a last word or two.

  ‘As you know from the job description,’ he began, ‘the duties here include a certain amount of general legal work apart from managing this department – you’ll have to be prepared for whatever comes along, but in any event, Miss Rainey here will hold the fort. She will also assist on visits to properties in taking particulars.’

&nbs
p; Glancing at Roz, as he spoke, he added: ‘I believe she considers it one of the perks of this job that she gets to see the houses. Isn’t that right, Miss Rainey?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Mr MacKenna,’ she agreed eagerly. ‘Houses are my real interest.’

  ‘Yours, too, of course?’ Mr MacKenna asked the candidates, at which there was a chorus of agreement and a smile from him.

  ‘They have to be, it goes without saying, if you look after a property department. Buying a house is the biggest investment most people have to make, and we’re here to help them to get it right. Wanting to do that is what’s drawn you to this particular post, I suppose I can say?’

  ‘Oh, certainly,’ plump Mr Appin said at once. ‘That’s certainly true for me.’

  ‘And me,’ chimed Mr Franklin, while Mr Shield nodded without speaking.

  ‘Fine.’ Mr MacKenna looked at his watch. ‘Well, we’d better return now to Mr Banks, I think. Follow me, gentlemen. Thank you, Miss Rainey.’

  ‘Thank you,’ the young men echoed with enthusiasm, giving her farewell smiles as they left, Mr Shield’s being as friendly as the look in his hazel eyes.

  Feeling completely unsettled as she sat down at her typewriter, Roz’s head was in a whirl. She’d seen the three candidates, who would now be taking it in turn to suffer an ordeal by interview, and it had all been pretty painless for her, hadn’t it? The chaps had been very nice and polite. One in particular had been very friendly, she had to admit, and that was Mr Shield.

  Mr Shield – he had a really pleasant manner, hadn’t he? One that he could probably turn on for anyone, but that didn’t make it any less attractive. Could she see herself working with him?

  Roz stared at the paper in her typewriter.

  She could, she decided, she’d like to, but what she’d like and what Mr Banks wanted could be two different things. Slowly, she began to type in the details of a bungalow that had recently come on to the market, wondering when the interviews would be over and Mr MacKenna would return. And would she get to know who the lucky winner was?