Live the Dream

by Josephine Cox

  Taking Luke's meaning, the other man was uncomfortable. 'And does that include stealing my customers?'

  Luke answered carefully. 'I hadn't thought of that, but, like you said yourself, Leonard, all's fair in love and war. And who am I to argue?'

  'No, no!' The other one laughed nervously. 'You've got me all wrong. I'm content enough with the work I've got.'

  He knew he did not command the respect that Luke did, and he also knew that if Luke moved into his own area of expertise, he could soon be the loser. 'What happened to you could have happened to any one of us, and of course we should always support each other.'

  'Oh, really?' It was all Luke could do not to laugh out loud, but he maintained an indifferent manner, asking casually, 'So, does that mean you want to retain my services?'

  'Well, of course. Isn't that what this meeting was all about?'

  'You're right, Leonard,' Luke readily agreed. 'That was my idea when I came to see you. Only, now that I think on it, I'm not certain I can accommodate you. You see, the temporary warehouse isn't as big as the old one. Of course, it'll be different when the new one is built, but it'll be tight for a time. It'll mean a bit of juggling here and there, but if I made the effort, I dare say I could accommodate you—if I put myself out a bit, that is.' He feigned a worried expression. 'In fact, I'm beginning to think I should never have come to see you at all. I mean, what with the old customers keeping faith with me, I'm not really sure I could altogether handle your contract as well.'

  Fearing he had done himself more harm than he had done Luke, Wrightson gently argued his case. 'Look, I need to keep my stock on the move. I haven't got time for fitting out a new warehouse, and I'd have to find capable, trustworthy drivers, not to mention new wagons and other workers. No! On reflection it would be foolish to lay out that sort of money, especially when I don't have to.'

  Luke showed no pity. 'I'm sorry. I don't see how-'

  'Listen to me.' Interrupting Luke, Wrightson stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray and, taking a deep breath, he offered, 'An extra two per cent on top with every transaction. What do you say to that?'

  At last, even though it was not in the way he'd intended, Luke had him where he wanted him. It was a good feeling. 'Three per cent!'

  'Two and a half.'

  Luke held out his hand. 'Done!'

  Leonard Wrightson gave a sigh of relief. 'So, we're back in business, and no more nonsense about poaching each other's work,' he laughed. 'We've more than enough burdens on our backs as it is, wouldn't you say?'

  Luke didn't 'say'. What he did was to draw up a rough, binding contract on either side and when that was signed by both parties in front of the secretary, he shook hands to conclude the deal.

  'I'll be in touch,' he promised as he prepared to leave.

  As he strode from the desk, the other man stopped him. 'Have they found the culprit yet?'

  'Not yet, no.'

  'And have they no idea who did it?'

  Pursing his lips, Luke took his time in answering. 'If they have, they're not telling me.'

  'I know the police are calling it arson, but what's your thinking on it?' Wrightson quizzed. 'Was it a deliberate act to put you out of business or an unfortunate accident?'

  Luke was suddenly on the defensive. This turn of conversation was beginning to touch on deep issues that he would rather not think about. 'Your guess is as good as mine.' Disgruntled, he turned away for the second time. 'Still, I expect they'll get to the bottom of it before too long.'

  He was almost at the door, when he was pulled up sharply by the other man's casual remark. 'Terrible shame about that young woman.'

  Dropping his head as though in shame, Luke did not turn round. Instead he answered, almost inaudibly, 'Yes…dreadful thing.'

  'What was that?' The other man began his way to the door.I didn't hear what you said?'

  Luke strode on, through the door and into the outer hall. 'I've said all I mean to say on the matter,' he called out angrily, 'and I suggest you do the same!' With that he was out of the building and hurrying away down the street as though the devil was on his heels.

  Later that evening, he was ensconced in his study at home. He did not begin on the pile of paperwork that littered his desk, though much "of it was urgent enough.

  Instead, he paced the floor, sometimes pausing to stare out of the window, or at times hunched in the chair, head in hands, haunted by what had happened.

  First, there was that poor blameless girl Daisy. Oh, the shock of discovering that the injured young woman trapped in the burning factory had been the little waitress from Tooley's Cafe.

  Inevitably this made Luke think of the waitress's best friend, Amy. Thank God it had not been her in the blaze. Since the fire, whenever he went to the cabin, which was less and less as outside pressures increased, Luke had spent hours staring at Amy's lovely face in the painting. Did she still go to Tooley's, he wondered. Since she'd come to the cabin that second time he had stayed away from the cafe so as not to embarrass her. She was more than ever a part of the Tuesday dream now. He must see her again.

  Then there was the truly chilling thought that the factory fire had been started deliberately and that someone hated him and wanted to destroy him that much. He had no idea who could have done such a thing.

  When the knock came on the door he almost leaped out of his skin. 'Who is it?' His voice shook. I'm busy!'

  The door inched open. 'It's only me.' For some unknown reason Sylvia had been unusually quiet these last two days, avoiding him at every turn, whereas in the immediate weeks following the fire, she had been dangerously agitated; so much so that the doctor had had to sedate her on several occasions. 'Can I come in?'

  Before he could answer, she was inside. Closing the door behind her, she stood against it, her arms behind her back and a look of wildness in her eyes. 'It was you, wasn't it?'

  Sensing trouble, Luke leaped out of the chair. 'What the hell are you talking about?'

  She smiled, that evil little smile he had come to recognise so well. 'I know what you did.'

  He looked her in the eye. 'Do you now?' He wondered how much she really did know.

  She started forward. 'You thought I was in the building, didn't you? That's why you set fire to it.' She began trembling, her face alight with excitement. 'You tried to kill me, just like you did when you crept up behind me in the alley.' Nodding her head vigorously, she began gabbling, 'You think I don't know who it was that attacked me that night, but I do…it was you. You wanted me out of the way, so you could be with your fancy woman.' Wagging a finger, she had the look of someone demented. 'Ah! You didn't think I knew that, did you? You didn't think I'd seen you in the alley but I did! It was you! YOU WANT ME DEAD!'

  'Calm down, Sylvia,' Luke said gently. 'You don't want to get all worked up.'

  In the wink of an eye her mood changed. 'Don't kill me,' she sobbed. 'I didn't mean to do it. I'll never do it again!'

  Desolate, he came forward, arms open wide. 'Come on, I'll get you a hot drink. You'd best take your tablets and go to bed.'

  When he laid his hands on her, she shrank from him. 'Don't punish me,' she whimpered. 'I'm sorry. I'll be a good girl. I will.'

  'It's all right,' he coaxed. 'Everything's going to be all right.'

  But he knew it wasn't.

  Amy was busy unpacking a delivery of soap and putting it on the shelves when Luke walked into Atkinsons' Corner Shop one Friday morning in early January. The shop was busy with people stocking up on groceries for the weekend, and heads turned to examine the smartly dressed stranger in a big black overcoat and a felt hat. One or two necks were craned to assess the shiny motor car parked outside the shop too.

  Amy scrambled to her feet, flushing and looking confused.

  'Good morning, Miss Atkinson,' Luke said, fixing her with a confident smile. I wonder if I might have a word with you about a friend of yours and acquaintance of mine—Daisy?'

  'Of course,' answered Amy. She glanced at Marie,
who, with Maureen—now helping in the shop at busy times, the tea trolley job missed only by Johnny—was efficiently getting through the queue of customers.

  Marie nodded towards the living room behind the shop. 'Take the gentleman through, if you like, Amy,' she suggested. She would never show her own curiosity in front of the customers, particularly old Alice, whose eyes were bulging with the need to know what was afoot.

  Amy showed Luke through, quietly closed the door behind them and turned to him with a mixture of both pleasure and anger at seeing him.

  'What are you doing here?' she whispered fiercely, mindful of the thin wall.

  'I told you, Amy, I've come to find out how Daisy is.'

  Amy was immediately contrite. 'She's not well, I'm afraid,' she said. 'She's getting better, but slowly.'

  'Will she be…scarred for life? I hear her injuries are awful.'

  'Some won't heal entirely, some will. But she's so down. It's her mind tormenting her about her physical injuries that is making her so much worse.'

  There was a long pause. 'I understand,' Luke said quietly. 'The mind can be so fragile.'

  Before she knew it Amy had reached out and squeezed his hand in silent sympathy. He imprisoned her hand with both of his and brought it to his lips. 'Dear Amy-'

  'No, Luke,' she interrupted, pulling her hand gently away. 'I meant what I said last time. It can never be—you know that.'

  Luke sensed that Amy could never be his. He had to accept that, and he did. 'All right, Amy—but we can be friends, can't we?'

  Amy visibly relaxed. 'Of course we can.'

  And so they discussed Daisy's injuries and Luke looked grave, especially when he learned he wouldn't even be allowed to visit her in the infirmary just yet. He promised to come by again to enquire after her progress.

  'Won't you have a cup of tea before you go?' asked Amy as Luke gathered himself to leave.

  'No, thank you,' he said. 'Better not.'

  'I'm sorry about your factory burning down,' she said as they both moved towards the door.

  'Thank you. Yes, I can hardly say fortune's smiling just now,' he shrugged, trying for nonchalance. 'Main thing is that Daisy gets better. I can always build another factory, but there's only one Daisy.'

  'Too right!' agreed Amy. What a good man he was. 'Thank you for coming to ask about her. I'll tell her you did, when she's well enough to take it in.'

  'Thanks.'

  They stood awkwardly facing each other, unsure how to part. Suddenly Luke leaned over and planted a swift kiss on Amy's hair.

  'Goodbye, Amy,' he said, and was through the door before she could reply.

  When Marie came to look for Amy a few minutes later she found her looking suspiciously red-eyed.

  'Don't worry, love. Daisy will get better,' she comforted, hugging Amy to her. But she had a feeling it wasn't just Daisy Amy had been crying about.

  Chapter Fourteen

  'Give her my love, won't yer, lass?' Like everyone who knew Daisy, Marie had been devastated by what had happened to her. 'Tell her we're all thinking of her.' Handing Amy the small posy of hot-house roses, she gave a deep sigh. 'God only knows, that poor lass needs all the support we can give her.' Marie said something like this every day, for her daughter was a daily visitor to Daisy's bedside.

  Amy nodded. She didn't say anything. What could anybody say in a situation like this?

  'Now you just mind how you go, lass, and don't worry about me and Maureen. We'll manage all right.'

  'That's right, love.' These past weeks, while Amy had dedicated herself to keeping Daisy's spirits up, Maureen had taken on more and more in the shop, and was now as much Marie's right-hand woman as Amy.

  Amy thanked them both. She glanced at little Johnny, who was playing with his toy train on the floor. 'See you later, Johnny.' When he ran to her, she gave him a hug. 'Be a good boy while I'm gone.' And sensing the seriousness of the moment, the boy clung to her a while longer than was necessary.

  A moment later, armed with flowers and other small gifts, she set off to see Daisy.

  Amy was deeply troubled. Walking down the street she wondered how Daisy would be today.

  Some short time later, seated on the tram, she tormented herself with what had happened just a few short weeks ago: Roy and Daisy trapped in a burning inferno; the terrible shock when the news came through, and that first time when she and Jack had gone to see Daisy at the infirmary.

  There was never a conscious minute, when the evening of the fire didn't play on her mind. And with it came the guilt.

  That night, she and Jack should never have let Roy and Daisy run off on their own—but then they were not children; they were grown-ups with minds of their own. And what if the two of them had not gone into that factory? What if old Tooley had not sacked Daisy? Then there would have been no need to ask Jack if he could get her a job, and Roy would not have taken her into the factory to show her the kind of work she might be doing.

  The most haunting question of all was who had set fire to the factory and why? Did they mean to hurt Roy and Daisy? Or was it a way of getting at Luke Hammond?

  All the ifs and buts, and the reasons why, would not go away, and Amy wondered if they ever would.

  The tram pulled into her stop and Amy disembarked for the infirmary. As she walked through the main doors, it seemed some kind of fracas was going on.

  'I've told you time and again, I can not allow you into the ward!' The matron was a formidable lady of some strength and size who, along with the two porters who had been summoned to her aid, was easily equal to the two louts whose way she was blocking. 'My first duty is to the patient, and I'd like you to leave at once.'

  'Get outta me sodding way!' The scruffy burly fella hanging on to his wife's arm was so inebriated he could hardly stand. 'Yer can't bloody well stop us from seeing our own daughter!'

  'That's right!' Screeching and yelling, his dishevelled wife lashed out wildly. 'So you'd best piss off out of it, the lot of you; or we'll 'ave the police on yer!'

  There was a fierce scuffle and the exchange of a few harsh words, but in the end the pair were marched off the premises.

  'And don't come back until you've sobered up!' Matron's voice followed them along the street.

  In the frantic moment when they were manhandled past Amy, she recognised them as Daisy's parents. Wisely lowering her head, she quickened her steps to the receptionist's desk.

  The kindly receptionist greeted her with a smile. 'Good morning, Amy, and how are you?'

  Having seen Amy regularly since Daisy had been transferred to the ward from the burns unit, she had come to know her well.—Her condemning stare went to the outer door. 'I expect you already know Daisy's parents, do you?'

  Amy nodded. 'Though not very well.'

  'Dreadful pair. They tried to barge their way in just now—drunk and violent, the both of them.' With a burst of pride, she squared her little pigeon chest. 'Matron threw them out.'

  Amy gave an embarrassed smile. 'I know,' she said sheepishly, 'and I hope nobody intends telling Daisy because, I can tell you, she wouldn't be too pleased about them turning up in that state.'

  'Don't you worry,' the receptionist answered. 'I'm sure none of us would want to add to Daisy's burden by telling her. Anyway, the nurse has just been down,' she told Amy. 'Apparently, Daisy's had her wash, nibbled at her breakfast and now she's got her eyes glued to the door watching out for you.'

  Just then a small, round-faced woman in her mid-forties approached Amy with the long, confident stride of a navvy. 'Oh, Amy! I'm so glad you've arrived.' The nurse, Rita, was a friendly little thing, who had formed a warm relationship with Daisy, far beyond the call of duty. 'I've just been talking with her,' she told Amy. 'I hope you can cheer her, because I can't seem to.'

  'I'll do my best.'

  'I know you will.' Nurse Rita explained. 'She's so unhappy. She cried half the night, so I'm told, and today she's like somebody being made ready for the gallows.'

  Amy was c
oncerned. 'What's brought all this on? She was doing all right yesterday.'

  'I'm told she had words with her boyfriend. In fact by all accounts, she sent him packing.' Gesturing towards the corridor, the nurse urged, 'You go along, dear. I know she's been waiting for you.'

  As Amy began to walk away, the nurse noticed that Amy had gone ahead with a posy of flowers. 'I'm sorry, dear,' she called her back. 'You still can't take flowers in…risk of infection and all that.'

  Accepting the flowers, she handed them to the receptionist, who promised,I'll put them aside until I've finished what I'm doing, then I'll put them in a vase. I'm sure they'll give pleasure to everyone who passes by.'

  Amy merely nodded before, with Nurse Rita, she made her way towards the long corridor that would take her to the ward. Rita told Amy that Daisy was doing really well as far as her injuries were concerned. 'In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if the doctor allowed her home by the end of next week. Mind you, on the emotional and mental side of it, she's still got a long way to go.'

  'Once we get her home, she'll soon be on the mend.' Amy tried to sound hopeful.

  'She'll be coming home with you, will she?'

  'That's the plan. We've taken on extra help in the shop so I can spend most of my time with Daisy. That way, hopefully she'll soon regain her confidence.'

  'Well, I hope you can stop her from sliding into a deep depression,' the nurse remarked with a frown. 'I've seen it happen so many times before—the patient's physical wounds mend, but the mental scars don't heal so quickly.'

  Lowering her voice, she admitted, I know it isn't very professional, but I've spent many an hour talking with Daisy—on and off duty—and I've come to know and like her well. What I'm trying to say is this: I'm so glad she has you to fall back on. Now tell her I'll be along later,' she said, 'though I'll expect her to be fast asleep by that time.'