Now and Always

by Andrea Blake

  “Well, if it’s such a marvellous idea, why didn’t the estate agent suggest it?” Jennifer retorted.

  “Very probably because he’s hand in glove with some local developer and they foresee that, if you have difficulty in selling the house, you’ll eventually be ready to let it go for a very low price.” He turned back to her mother. “Alternatively, how would you like to sell the place to me?”

  Before her mother could reply, Jennifer said crisply, “You would have to pay through the nose for it, Mr. Parker.”

  “Jennifer, really! I think you forget yourself,” her mother exclaimed, in a shocked tone. “I am sorry, Neal. I can’t think what’s come over Jennifer this evening.”

  “I expect she’s still annoyed by my deception earlier on. I should have apologised at once. Will you forgive me, Jennifer?” His dark eyes were brilliant with mockery.

  “Very well,” she said stiffly, inwardly furious.

  “You’re quite right not to trust me, of course,” Neal went on, after a moment. “The fact that we’re distantly connected is no assurance of my integrity,” he added to Louise. “Now, if you will excuse me for half an hour, I have a couple of letters which I’d like to run down to the G.P.O. There’s just time to get them in the last mail.”

  “You’ll want to put your car away later. I’ll give you the keys to the garage and the spare latchkey,” Louise said, rising. “Don’t hurry back if you feel like having a drink somewhere. We must order some beer for you. Do you prefer any particular kind?”

  A few minutes later, Jennifer heard the car start up. She poured herself another cup of coffee and curled up on the sofa to drink it, her eyebrows contracted in a frown.

  “Darling, how could you behave so badly?” Louise said reproachfully, when she came back. “You were very rude to him, you know.”

  “I don’t like him, and I don’t trust him. He obviously takes us for a couple of hen-witted females who can be gulled into anything, Mummy.”

  “What nonsense! He’s not a bit like that. If he meant to diddle us, he wouldn’t have explained about the possibility of developing this land,” her mother said firmly. “I like him very much. I can’t think why you’ve got your knife into him. He said he was sorry for not telling you who he was.”

  “How long do you suppose he’s planning to stay?” Jennifer asked gloomily.

  “I’ve no idea. Until everything is sorted out and settled, I suppose. He hasn’t mentioned the shop yet. I expect he’ll go down with you tomorrow morning. Did you leave enough bacon for his breakfast? I shall have to get plenty of food in. I expect he’s got a good appetite. I think he could have eaten more at supper.”

  “I wish you hadn’t insisted on his staying here. He’ll be under our feet all the time.”

  “I don’t think so at all. Anyway, with so much to discuss, it will be more convenient to have him here.”

  “Oh well, I’m going to bed. I’ve had enough of Mr. Neal Parker for one day.” Jennifer slid off the sofa and bent to give her mother a hug. “Goodnight, Mummy.”

  While she was undressing, she heard the Lancia returning. A little later her mother and Neal came upstairs, and she heard them saying goodnight on the landing.

  She finished the last two chapters of her library book, then switched out the lamp and settled down. But half an hour later, unable to get to sleep, she climbed out of bed again and put on her dressing gown and slippers.

  She was leaving the kitchen with a glass of milk and a buttered roll when, behind her, the back door opened. Drawing in her breath, she jerked round.

  “I’m sorry. Did I scare you?” Neal asked. Like her, he was wearing a dressing gown over pyjamas. But his robe was an expensive navy silk affair, and Jennifer’s red wool gown had been going since she was sixteen and had faded and shrunk in the wash.

  “I’m not used to early nights, so I thought I’d have a stroll round the garden,” Neal said, after he had locked and bolted the door.

  “Are you hungry? Would you like a hot drink?” Jennifer asked, with cold politeness.

  “No, thanks. That was an excellent pie you made for supper. Do you like cooking?”

  “I don’t mind it.” She turned towards the stairs. Did he really imagine that such simple flattery would win her over.

  Neal followed her up the stairs. “I’ll open your door for you,” he said, in a, lowered voice, when they reached the landing.

  “Thank you. Goodnight.”

  “Don’t forget to clean your teeth again. Goodnight, young Jenny. Sleep tight.”

  Jennifer swung round, her eyes sparkling. But she was too late to make a pithy retort. He had already closed the door on her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “SO you work at Parkers, Jennifer. In what capacity?” Neal asked, as he drove her into town the following morning.

  “I’m a shorthand-typist.”

  He made no comment until they stopped at some traffic lights. Then he glanced at her, and said, “Is that what you wanted to be when you left school?”

  “No, I wanted to study languages. But Wilfred thought a University training was a waste of time and money for girls. So I went to a secretarial school for three months and then into the shop. I suppose you think that was very feeble of me?”

  “I imagine you had no choice. If you hadn’t given in to him, it would have made life more difficult for your mother.”

  His perspicacity surprised her, and she said, “Yes ... but even if I hadn’t had my mother to consider, I doubt if I would have had the courage to break free the way you did.” Then she realised that she had sounded as if she admired him, and she flushed and turned her head away.

  “A girl can’t fend for herself the way a boy can. Do you still want to go in for languages, or do you feel it’s too late?”

  “I can’t leave Mummy now. I’m all she has. Wilfred would never let her have any outside interests, or even any friends. She’d be lost if I went away.”

  “What about when you marry? You’ll have to leave her then.”

  “Well, that problem isn’t likely to arise for some years yet, and by then things may be different,” Jennifer answered.

  “So you’re still fancy free, are you?”

  “Yes,” she said shortly. “You’d better park behind the Guildhall. There’s a twenty-minute limit outside the shop now.”

  The car parked, they walked through Church Street to the town’s main square. Since the war this had been gradually rebuilt because the central part of Midchester had been badly blitzed. By now the war damage reconstruction looked quite old beside a brand new eight-storey office block on one corner, and the terrazzo and black glass facade of a recently completed shoe shop. The only remaining pre-war premises were Parkers on the north side of the square.

  The shop, erected in the early years of the century by Wilfred Parker’s grandfather, was not an unattractive building. It had the solid, dignified character of its period, and from a distance the ornate facade was rather impressive. Studying it while she ate a sandwich lunch on a bench in the square gardens one day, Jennifer had realised that Parkers only looked so antediluvian because of the old-fashioned style of window dressing, and the green glass fascias with their fancy gilt lettering.

  “Everything has changed except Parkers,” Neal murmured sardonically, slipping his hand under her elbow as they crossed the road in front of the store. “Is old Fellows still assistant manager?”

  “Yes, but he retires next year. I don’t know who will succeed him. None of the others are very bright. They’re all cowed by years of Wilfred’s bullying.”

  “I’ll probably have to sack most of them,” Neal said dispassionately. “Good staff are half the battle.”

  Jennifer was shocked. “But you can’t just throw people out after they’ve worked here for years.”

  He glanced down at her. “My dear girl, I can do anything I choose. One can’t run a business on sentimentality. Any deadweights must go.”

  Jennifer drew in a breath, in
tending to indignantly refute this statement. Then she changed her mind and said nothing. Last night she had come to the conclusion that it would be useless to wage open war with him. If she were to combat him successfully, she would have to employ guerrilla tactics.

  They went round to the staff entrance and up the stone stairs which led to the offices.

  “Did you come here when you were at school? Do you know your way around?” Jennifer asked. When he shook his head, she pointed along the passage. “That’s Mr. Fellows’ office at the end there.”

  As she turned to go the other way, Neal caught her arm. “Hey, where are you off to?”

  “My office is this way. I have to sort the post. I’ll see you later.”

  “Someone else can do the post this morning. I want you with me.” His fingers tightened on her arm, and he steered her firmly towards the assistant manager’s office.

  Mr. Fellows was very much flustered at being confronted by his new employer so early in the morning and without any warning. However, he quickly recovered himself, wrung Neal’s hand and assured him that both he and everyone else had been delighted to learn that Parkers was to remain a family business.

  “Now I expect you would like to make a tour of the building, Mr. Parker,” he suggested, after about ten minutes of rather effusive assurances that the entire staff from buyers to van drivers were dedicated to continued loyal service.

  “Yes, I would,” Neal said briskly. “But I expect you have a great deal to do, so I won’t take up your time, Mr. Fellows. Miss Alvery can show me round. Get a pencil and pad, will you, Jennifer? I may want you to take notes.”

  “Where do you want to go first?” she asked, when she had fetched her notebook and rejoined him in the corridor.

  “We’ll start with the sales floors. I’ll tell you if I want to be introduced to anyone. I don’t want to waste half the morning listening to unctuous spiels of welcome.”

  ‘How cynical can you get?’ she thought angrily. But as they stepped into the lift, her face was expressionless.

  Down in the basement carpet department, Neal ignored the curious glances of the salesmen and walked slowly along each aisle.

  “The atmosphere is fusty, the lighting is poor, and I don’t care for these untidy carpet stacks,” he said crisply, frowning at a pile of Axminsters. Then he strode across to the stairs to the ground floor. “All this wall space is wasted,” he said, over his shoulder, as they went up.

  In the dining furniture department he noticed with displeasure that several tables and chairs had small dents and scratches. “These should never have been put on display in this condition,” he said curtly. “Arrange for the polisher to come in from the warehouse for an hour every morning.”

  In the kitchen section he found a dusty cabinet and grubby fingermarks on a plastic-topped table. “Slack cleaners,” he snapped at Jennifer.

  By the time they reached the second floor and the bedding, word had got round who he was. But he was scowling so fiercely that even the buyer dared not approach them. By the time they had gone over the entire building and Jennifer had covered four pages of her book with his terse memoranda, it was nearly eleven o’clock.

  Neal returned to the office floor—asking a passing clerk to bring two cups of coffee to the managing director’s office—and strode into his late uncle’s sanctum.

  “It’s not surprising the business is going to pot,” he said, sitting down in the chair behind the big desk, and lighting a cigarette. “I’ve never seen a more antiquated and inefficient set-up. For a start, all the sales floors will have to be completely redecorated.”

  Their coffee arrived, but after one mouthful Neal pushed the cup and saucer away from him. “Even the coffee isn’t drinkable,” he said, with a grimace.

  Jennifer, who was used to it, drank it. “It’s all very well to talk about redecorating, Neal—but where is the money to come from?”

  “That’s my problem.” He glanced at his watch. “Now I want to have a talk with Fellows. Ask him to come in, will you, please? Then you can go and transcribe those notes. If you have any ideas of your own, tack them on.”

  Jennifer told the assistant manager he was wanted, and went to her own small office. It did not take her long to type out the notes, and when she had finished she sat frowning at the long list of criticisms and wondering if Neal really knew what he was doing. Today was a turning point—but in which direction? If Neal’s plans for the store were too ambitious, the outcome could be bankruptcy.

  She was still brooding on the situation when he rapped on the door and came in.

  “We’ll go to lunch. I’ve booked a table at the Crown. Fellows is coming along, too.”

  “Oh ... really?” Jennifer said coolly. “Well, I have my lunch hour at one, and I’m meeting a friend today.” This wasn’t true, but she resented his dictatorial attitude.

  Neal’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he did not argue with her. “Very well. I’ll see you in my office at two o’clock. Don’t be late, please. We have a lot of work to get through this afternoon.” Taking the list from her desk, he walked out and closed the door behind him.

  An hour later, perched on a high stool at the counter of a nearby coffee bar, Jennifer regretted making the false excuse not to lunch with him. The bar was too crowded for comfort and the cheeseburger she had ordered was stale and tough. If she had not let Neal rile her, she could have been enjoying the first-class cuisine of the Crown, which was Midchester’s best hotel. Even more vexing was the thought that, at this very moment, Neal might be coercing Mr. Fellows into agreeing with any number of major changes which she and her mother would not know about until it was too late to object to them.

  Neal was already at his desk when, on the stroke of two, Jennifer tapped on the door of his office. Another desk and chair had been brought into the room and placed at right angles to his.

  “You’ll be working in here from now on,” he told her. “The work you’ve been doing can be divided among the other office staff. You’ll be my personal assistant.”

  “I’m honoured,” Jennifer said sweetly.

  He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “According to Mr. Fellows, everyone at Parkers is right behind me,” he said evenly. “Except you, I gather.”

  “I haven’t said that.”

  “But you make it pretty plain.”

  “Does my opinion bother you?”

  “Not in the least—providing you keep it to yourself. If you can’t do that, I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”

  “Are you threatening to sack me?” Suddenly her heart began to thump and there were butterflies in her tummy. She had not felt like this since she was a schoolgirl and had been sent to the headmistress for getting three black marks in one term.

  “Yes, I am.” Neal’s expression and tone were perfectly pleasant, but somehow he made her fed like a stupidly defiant child.

  “Aren’t you forgetting that you are not the sole authority here? My mother is a director, too, you know.”

  “I think your mother will support my decisions. She strikes me as a very sensible woman.”

  “And I don’t?”

  “Not if you continue to allow your personal antagonism towards me to prejudice your judgment of what is best for Parkers. Particularly when it is such an unreasonable antagonism,” he added dryly.

  Jennifer’s hands clenched. “Yes, it’s very unreasonable for any girl not to like a man like you,” she retorted sarcastically. “I suppose the reasonable reaction is to fall like a log at first sight.”

  His smile made her even more furious. “You liked me well enough until you found out who I was,” he said mildly.

  “I didn’t know you then.”

  “You don’t know me now. No—listen to me for a moment. You can tell me to go to blazes when I’ve finished.” Rising from the chair, he came to the front of the desk and sat on the edge of it. “You told me this morning how you’d given in to my uncle because of your mother, an
d how much she depended on you now,” he said quietly. “She also depends on Parkers, Jennifer. Wilfred didn’t leave enough money to keep her in comfort if the store fails. So it’s up to you to help get the place on its feet again. You can dislike me as much as you like out of business hours. But between nine and six, you’ve got to control your personal feelings and think only of the good of the store. Unless you can do that, you’ll have to find another job. I intend to put this business on top again, and I can’t let anyone impede me. I’ll give you twenty-four hours to think it over. Either you’re with me right down the line—or you’re out on your ear. Is that clear?”

  “Quite clear, thank you.”

  Jennifer had meant to sound coldly contemptuous. But to her mortification the words came out husky and unsteady.

  “Right. Now get me a personal call to this chap, will you?” Neal handed her his pocket diary, indicated a name and a London telephone number and returned to his place behind the desk.

  Jennifer was still too angry and upset to take in the nature of the call. She did not doubt that he had meant every word he said, and she had a frightening conviction that he was right in thinking that her mother would support him in any decision relating to Parkers.

  When Neal replaced the receiver, he said, “That was an architect who has worked for me before. Luckily he’s not too tied up just now, so he’s coming down from town right away to look over the store and work on a new layout for us. We may not be able to use his ideas wholesale, but we must have a unified blueprint. Now there are two things which must be changed at once. One is our advertising campaign which, in my opinion, is practically useless as it stands. The second is our no-credit policy. Fellows tells me that Wilfred was fanatically opposed to any form of hire purchase.”

  “Yes, he was. He said that the advantages of H.P. were cancelled out by the bad debts and the extra paperwork.”

  “He must have been out of his mind,” Neal said, in an exasperated tone. “The system has its snags, but you can’t run a business without it in this day and age. We’ll start easy terms from the first of next month. Fielding Brothers are our strongest competitors, aren’t they? Do you know what interest they charge?”