The Buffer Girls

by Margaret Dickinson

  Whatever else she had done in her life, she loved her son devotedly and had done her best for him. She had placed him with loving foster parents, but never hid her identity from him. She had seen him every weekend throughout his childhood. She’d ensured that he had had a good education and now she was rewarded by the fact that he understood – and accepted – her situation without recriminations or censure.

  And now, when Arthur seated himself and began to explain his plans for Richard, she could hardly believe that what she’d hoped and dreamed of was actually coming true.

  ‘I wasn’t sure you really meant it, Arthur, especially since you haven’t visited me again since then – I didn’t know you were ill – but I am so grateful that you’re going to do something for our son.’

  Arthur had the grace to nod and say, ‘Well, I owe you something, Belle, after all these years of discreet devotion. You have never once caused me humiliation and, as far as I know, the only time you have disobeyed me has been over Richard’s birth. But I am prepared to overlook that. It suits me now to do so.’ He hadn’t quite given up the notion of punishing her in some way for her deception, but he didn’t want it to affect the boy. He had another use for him.

  When Richard finished his schooling in the summer of 1922, Arthur took him to the works and presented him, without embarrassment, to his employees, particularly to George Bayes, who was to take the boy under his wing and see that he was taught the workings of the office. George hoped he looked suitably surprised when the introductions were made.

  But the arrival of Arthur’s illegitimate son by a former music-hall dancer was the talk of the factory for days and rippled out into the streets of the city. Trip heard about it from Nathan Hawke and when he told Emily, she was shocked.

  ‘He’s sixteen? Do you mean your father has known Belle Beauman all that time?’

  ‘So it seems. And there’s something else. He has let it be known that my half-brother is now his heir.’

  ‘Do you think your mother knows about that?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘It’s put you in a bit of an awkward position, hasn’t it?’

  Trip nodded, chewing his lower lip. ‘Do you think I should tell her?’

  ‘How can you? You’re barred from visiting her now that your father’s living back at home.’

  Constance had, of course, written to Trip to tell him of his father’s illness, but there had been no invitation for him to visit, not from her and certainly not from Arthur.

  ‘According to what Mr Bayes told Mr Hawke,’ Trip went on, ‘he’s going to set Richard to work in the offices, so that he can learn the administrative side of the business.’

  ‘You mean, he’s going to make his illegitimate son his heir just because you married me? Oh Trip, I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have married me.’

  ‘I’m not sorry and, yes, I should have. Come here.’

  They both rose from the table and he took her in his arms, holding her close. ‘I will never, for a moment, regret having married you, my darling. Don’t ever think that.’

  Emily clung to him. She believed he meant what he said, but she wasn’t so sure.

  Despite Nathan Hawke’s goodness to them, Trip’s future was not going to be what it might have been – what it should have been.

  Though they had each other, the future looked very uncertain.

  Constance sat in the morning room, debating with herself. It was now the last week in August and some three weeks earlier, shortly after he had introduced Richard into his family’s firm, Arthur had had a second stroke, a much more serious one. Constance had at once engaged a professional nurse when, for several days, Arthur’s life had hung in the balance. Slowly, he had recovered although he was now physically incapacitated and hardly able to talk. Nor could he write what instructions he wished to give. And Constance knew he still wished to give directions as to how his business should be run, but she chose to act as if she couldn’t understand him.

  She had asked him but one question, ‘Do you want Thomas to come back?’

  When his answer had been a violent shaking of his head, she had turned on her heel and left his bedroom. Since then, she had left his care to Nurse Adams and to Kirkland, who helped her when a man’s strength was needed. The weather was unseasonably wet and cool, but Constance hardly noticed; she was too busy working out a scheme in her mind. And this morning she was ready to go into action. She rang the bell and when Polly appeared, she asked her to find Ernest Kirkland.

  ‘Please ask him to come to the morning room.’

  When the man entered the room a few moments later, a little nervously, Constance smiled at him. ‘Please sit down, Kirkland.’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t, ma’am, I’m in me gardening clothes.’

  ‘Of course. I’m sorry.’ Constance’s smile broadened. ‘Kirkland, I want to ask you if I can trust you?’

  The man frowned. ‘I should hope so, ma’am. I’ve worked for you for several years now and—’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m not making myself very clear. Of course I know you are as honest and trustworthy as the day is long.’

  The man’s features relaxed.

  ‘What I mean is, can I trust you with my secrets? I wish to do certain things and I don’t want my husband, or the rest of the staff, finding out.’

  Now his expression cleared. This he could understand. Maybe the lady had a lover and he wouldn’t blame her if she had and hadn’t he kept the master’s mistress secret for years? No one had ever found out about Belle Beauman from his lips.

  ‘I can be discreet, ma’am.’

  Constance chuckled, guessing what was in the man’s mind. ‘Oh, I’m not indulging in clandestine affairs, I promise you. It’s to do with my husband’s business and – and my son.’

  ‘Ah – I see.’ Now he thought he understood. He, and all the staff for that matter, knew about the trouble between father and son and in private they all sided with Master Thomas, but, of course, it wouldn’t do to say so. But Ernest was shrewd enough to realize that, with Arthur’s illness, the reins now lay in Constance’s slim, but capable, hands. ‘Of course, ma’am, you have my word.’

  ‘Good. Then tomorrow morning I want you take me in my car to Sheffield and so that no questions are asked, I will drive to your house on the far side of the village to pick you up. I wish I had the nerve to drive into the city myself, but I just haven’t. Chesterfield is my limit and that is where I shall tell the rest of the staff I am going.’

  Constance often drove into one of the nearest towns to shop, usually to Buxton, but just occasionally to Chesterfield.

  ‘I understand. What time would you like me to be ready?’

  ‘About nine thirty? Will Nurse Adams be able to manage him without you for a day, d’you think?’

  He nodded. ‘I’ll ask her and I’ll tell the rest of the staff that you have given me the day off as I have some personal business to attend to. Would that do, ma’am?’

  ‘Certainly, Kirkland. Thank you.’

  As the man turned to leave the room, Constance watched him go, a smile on her lips. She knew she had found an ally.

  Constance set off at nine o’clock the following morning, having ascertained for herself from the nurse that her husband was no worse and that there was nothing the young woman needed for her patient. ‘Mr Kirkland asked me last night when he helped put the master to bed, ma’am, but I said I could manage this morning. He’s got some personal business to attend to, he said.’

  Constance had nodded, satisfied that Kirkland had so far played his part.

  Out of the gate, she drove straight ahead and then turned left at the end of the street into Greaves Lane, past the smithy and The Candle House. She gave a cheery wave to Bob Clark, who had already been at his anvil for three hours. She also waved towards the front window of the Ryans’ home. Even though she couldn’t actually see Josh, she knew he would be at his bench and might just notice the noisy car going past. She must call and see Martha ve
ry soon, she reminded herself. The whole family – Bob Clark too – had been very kind when they had heard of Arthur’s recent illness, enquiring about him each day and offering practical help if it was needed. In fact, all the villagers had been genuinely sympathetic towards Constance. She halted the vehicle outside Ernest Kirkland’s cottage and by the time she was sitting in the passenger’s seat, he had emerged from his cottage and climbed in behind the wheel.

  ‘Which way do you want me to go, ma’am?’

  ‘As long as we set off in the direction of Chesterfield to start with, that’s fine.’

  As they drove, Constance shouted above the noise of the engine, ‘I want you to take me to see Trip and Emily first, please, Kirkland. Do you know where Mr Hawke’s premises are?’

  Ernest nodded. Conversation was difficult and they didn’t speak again until Ernest was pulling up outside Nathan Hawke’s workshop.

  Constance climbed down and knocked on the door. Trip opened it and gaped at her. Then an anxious look came into his eyes. ‘Is it Father?’

  ‘No, he’s no worse, but no better either since I last wrote to you.’ She paused and then added, ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’

  ‘Oh – yes – of course. Sorry. I was so surprised to see you here. I thought something must be wrong.’ As he held open the door for her, he glanced out and saw Ernest sitting behind the wheel. ‘Ah,’ he said, smiling now. ‘I wondered how you’d got here.’

  With the introductions made, Constance looked around. ‘Emily works upstairs, does she?’

  ‘Yes, but she’s gone out to see customers. There’s only Nell who actually works here and the other two girls are in Mr Hawke’s other premises in Rockingham Street.’

  ‘How’s business?’ Constance included Mr Hawke in her question.

  ‘We’re doing nicely, thank you, Mrs Trippet, considering the difficulties businesses in general are experiencing in these unsettled times. I think we might see a change of government at the next election in November. With unemployment rising to over a million early last year, I think the voters will be looking elsewhere for their leadership. Still, you haven’t come here to talk politics with me.’ His eyes twinkled at her over his spectacles perched on the end of his nose. ‘I’m sure your visit’s to do with these wonderful young people I have working with me now.’

  Constance smiled, for what she had in mind might well rob the man of at least one of his workers. However, for the moment she said nothing but perhaps the intuitive Nathan saw something in her face for he said gently, ‘I was sorry to hear of your husband’s illness. I have told Trip that if he is needed at home – or even at his father’s works – then he must go. He must not feel obligated to me if he is required elsewhere.’ He paused and then added, ‘How is his business fairing without Mr Trippet at the helm?’

  Constance met his direct gaze. ‘I will be perfectly honest with you, Mr Hawke, since perhaps it will affect you. I don’t know how much you know . . .’ She glanced at Trip for guidance.

  ‘Mr Hawke knows everything, Mother.’

  Constance nodded and continued, ‘It’s very doubtful if my husband will ever be well enough to return to running the business. He has put his – um –’ she hesitated for a moment, not quite knowing how to describe Richard Beauman, then said, ‘Thomas’s half-brother in charge. He is recently out of school and knows nothing about the business. Mr Bayes says the boy is doing his best, but it is too much to have such a burden placed on his young shoulders.’

  ‘Can George Bayes not run it? He’s been there a long time.’

  ‘That would have been the best solution, yes, but George has been placed in an awkward situation. Arthur has acknowledged Richard as his son and made him his heir.’

  ‘Mm, yes, I see,’ Nathan said.

  ‘But Arthur seems to have forgotten that legally I own half the business.’

  ‘Really, Mother?’ Trip was surprised. ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘It was one of the provisions my own father insisted upon when we married and he gave Arthur a very generous dowry, as they liked to call it. As the years have gone by, I think Arthur has completely forgotten that my name is still on the deeds. I wondered if, by some means, he had had it removed, but I have checked with our solicitors and no, I am still an equal partner in Trippets’.’

  Trip blinked and glanced from one to the other. ‘I still don’t know how that might affect me.’

  Nathan chuckled. ‘If I’m right, your mother has the power to reinstate you as heir to her half of the business. Is that correct, Mrs Trippet?’

  Constance smiled and nodded, pleased that the shrewd man had understood at once and had saved her the uncomfortable task of explanation. ‘It is, Mr Hawke, but before I put matters in motion, I had, of course, to find out if Thomas is willing for me to do that and also to give you fair warning that, if he does agree, you will be losing your assistant. You have been so good to both Thomas and Emily that I feel guilty—’

  Nathan held up his hand. ‘Please don’t, Mrs Trippet, I beg you. Thomas has been a great help and it’s been good to have his company, but, to be honest, there is not really enough work to keep us both going full time for very long. And besides, his rightful place is in his family’s business.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Hawke,’ Constance said and Nathan knew that her thanks were not only for employing her son, but also for all the help he had given Emily too. She turned back to Thomas. ‘I had to be certain you are agreeable.’ She pulled a wry face. ‘I’m not going to force you into something you don’t want to do.’ And the unspoken words lay between them – ‘like your father’.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t have wanted to leave Mr Hawke in the lurch.’ He glanced at Nathan. ‘But since he seems to approve, then yes, if you can manage it, I’ll gladly go back. But – but what about Richard?’

  Constance laughed. ‘I’m on my way to see his mother now.’

  At this, both men stared at her, glanced at each other and then burst out laughing. ‘Now I’ve heard everything,’ Trip said.

  Forty-Five

  Kirkland parked outside the terraced house where Belle Beauman lived, where he’d parked the Rolls-Royce several times recently, but this time he had a different car, a different passenger.

  ‘Will you be all right, ma’am? Do you want me to come with you?’

  ‘No, I’ll be fine. I’ll try not to be too long.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll just sit here and read my newspaper.’ He glanced around him. ‘It’s a nice little car, this. I’ve never driven it before.’

  ‘It suits me,’ Constance said as she climbed out and approached the front door.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Beauman,’ she said, when a startled Belle opened the door. ‘May I come in? There’s something I would like to discuss with you.’

  ‘Oh – er – yes. Please do.’

  Belle was trembling. She feared that Constance had brought more bad news about Arthur. Of course, she knew about his recent serious illness; Richard had brought the news home from the factory. She had lived on tenterhooks ever since, daily expecting to hear the worst. And now his wife, of all people, was sitting in her front room, drinking tea and making polite conversation by admiring Belle’s home. It was ironic, Belle thought, quelling the desire to laugh out loud, that everything had been paid for by the woman’s husband.

  Constance placed her cup and saucer back on the tray. ‘You will have heard about Arthur’s illness, I presume.’

  Belle nodded, twisting her fingers anxiously.

  ‘His life is not in danger, but this second stroke has left him paralysed and unable to speak. He will never be fit enough to run his business again.’

  Or to come here any more, Belle thought. I shall never see him again. Tears prickled the back of her eyelids, but the actress in her came to the rescue. She lifted her head and met Constance’s gaze with outward equanimity, as another thought came into her mind: She’s come to turn me out of my home.

  ‘Your son, Richard, has
been placed in charge of the factory, I understand.’

  Belle nodded, not trusting herself to speak and Constance went on, ‘But he’s not coping very well, is he?’

  Belle shook her head and said huskily, ‘It’s hardly fair. He’s only sixteen. Mr Bayes should be in charge.’

  ‘I quite agree, but I have a suggestion to make and I hope you will agree.’

  Constance then went on to explain that she would like her son, Thomas, to return to the works and that the two half-brothers should be made joint owners and run the factory together.

  ‘I have discussed this at length with my solicitor and this is possible.’

  ‘What will Arthur say?’ Belle ventured hesitantly.

  ‘My dear, Arthur can say nothing. I think he understands everything that’s said to him, but he cannot voice his opinion.’

  ‘But you can do it legally – without his permission? Won’t he be required to sign things?’

  ‘Our solicitor has said there is a way round all that since he is now incapable. We need the doctor’s agreement, of course, that he is no longer “of sound mind”, but because I am already a partner, there should be no problem.’

  ‘Do you think Arthur will – would – agree?’

  ‘I really don’t know. I shall tell him, of course, and I think I shall know if he understands.’

  ‘I hope the shock won’t bring on another stroke.’ Belle bit her lip and now she could not stem the tears filling her eyes.

  Constance was thoughtful for a moment. The woman sitting opposite her obviously cared about Arthur. ‘Would you like to come and see him?’