A voice prodded at the back of his mind as he strode through the slush and ice, If you don’t watch out you’ll lose her. Then where’ll you be? He got as far as the pub door then turned on his heel and marched all the way back again, gathered Belinda in his arms and wept.
‘I’ll get work soon. I swear it.’ That night they lay with arms wrapped about each other, as happy as they’d ever been.
The next day when he’d gone out again in search of work to carry out his promise, Belinda pulled a cardboard box out from under the bed and considered its sparse contents. Clothes had never been particularly important to her. She’d never pretended to be a fashion plate. Even so, the peacock blue dress had been special. She remembered buying it in Cairo, and all the parties and dances she’d enjoyed in it, the friends she’d made. Laughter and sunshine to hold back the shadow of fear, which was always present in war. Now she wrapped the dress carefully in newspaper and pushing it under her arm, walked down the street, head held high even as tears rolled down her cheeks.
Her humiliation was complete when the pawnbroker gave her only five shillings on it, claiming he was being generous at that. She’d bought it at Harrods for thirty pounds, in the days when she’d been young and foolish and money hadn’t seemed to matter. Now she was using it to buy bread and cheese.
The invitation when it came the next day, took Belinda by surprise. Recognising her father’s handwriting on the envelope she lacked the courage to open it and propped it against the teapot. It was Benny, coming in from the bedroom where he’d been shaving from a bowl of water in front of a cracked mirror, who ripped it open.
‘Good lord, he wants us to come to tea. On Sunday.’
Belinda was so startled she was forced to sit down before her legs gave way. Perhaps it was because she was having a baby that she couldn’t seem to deal with emotional upset quite so easily these days. She told Benny that of course they wouldn’t go and an argument ensued which lasted throughout supper, though since that was only soup and bread and dripping, Belinda really didn’t have the energy to fight any more, so Benny won.
Chapter Sixteen
Belinda rather hoped the buses wouldn’t be running but when Sunday came they wrapped up well and caught one easily into the city centre, then changed to the number seventeen which took them up Park Road. There were heaps of dirty snow at either side of the road but at least the bus was able to get through. They got off at the end of Cherry Crescent and Belinda had never felt more nervous in her life.
‘This is a bad idea.’
‘They’re your parents,’ Benny insisted. ‘It could be just the break we need. It’s long past time you made it up with them.’
‘But what if my father tells me never to darken his door again?’ She adopted a humorously dramatic tone, although the sound came out hollow and foolish. Hubert Clarke was an easy man to argue with but a hard one to cross.
‘He sent for us,’ Benny reminded her. ‘He must have a reason. Happen he wants to forgive and forget,’ and since she couldn’t imagine this for one minute, Belinda lapsed into a brooding silence. She would be polite, calm, non-controversial, she promised herself, for he was still her father.
They stood at the familiar door with its cracked varnish and stained glass window while Benny pressed the bell. A jangling sound echoed along the hall and up the empty stairs behind it and Belinda couldn’t help remembering the day she’d arrived home, fresh and still young, brimful of confidence. Now she felt old, and beaten by life.
It was her mother who answered. Joanna stood and gazed upon her daughter and son-in-law as if she had never seen them in her life before, nor had the first idea what to say to them. Her eyes seemed to be riveted upon Belinda’s voluptuous figure, as if the letter she’d received giving her this glad news months ago had not registered until this moment.
‘Mother. How lovely to see you. Are you well?’
Joanna managed a half smile then stepped aside without a word, and let them precede her into the house.
The four of them sat in the chilly front parlour where they took tea, brought in on a tea trolley by Joanna as if they were strangers who had to be impressed with the best china, and the sight of a neatly folded fan of white paper in the empty fire grate. Belinda thought it typical of her father’s pettiness that he had denied them a fire for all he might blame the state of the country. It was so cold a frost rimed the inside of the windows, and she recalled with longing the warm fug of the kitchen with its huge old fashioned Aga, where apparently they were no longer welcome.
Hubert sat ramrod straight in his wing-backed chair, glowering at them as he sipped at his tea, or pinched the tips of his moustache between finger and thumb. He swallowed whole one or two of Joanna’s tiny egg sandwiches, leaving the butterfly cakes and scones untouched.
The silence threatened to become oppressive. Benny set down his cup and saucer with a snap, glad to be rid of the bother of trying to balance it while he ate, drew in a deep breath and beamed proudly as he indicated his wife. ‘She’s looking well, eh? Less than a month to go now.’
All eyes turned to Belinda who felt herself growing bright pink beneath the scrutiny. She hadn’t wanted this meeting, had only agreed to come because the larder remained frighteningly empty, as was her savings account. She’d also realised that Benny was determined on this family reunion and nothing would change his mind until he saw for himself what a hopeless case her parents were. ‘I’m simply going to have a baby, that’s all,’ she said. ‘A perfectly normal state of affairs.’
‘Bit of a shaker at first, mind,’ Benny said, nudging Belinda and almost upsetting her cup. ‘I was a bit stunned when I first heard. But think on it, Mr Clarke. A new offshoot to the family tree. That’s summat to be proud of, eh?’
‘I fail to see why, when it will bear your name and not mine.’
Benny looked nonplussed. This was the last reaction he’d expected. He had been absolutely certain that a man of Hubert Clarke’s stature would be secretly delighted to welcome a new grandson, that Belinda’s condition had been the reason for the offered olive branch.
Joanna saved the situation. She got up from her seat and went to her daughter, arms outstretched. ‘Well I, for one, am delighted for you darling. Having a baby is a wonderful joy. May I - may I kiss you?’ And after an initial awkwardness on Belinda’s part, mother and daughter were hugging each other, mopping up tears and both talking at the same time. After which display of affection they disappeared upstairs together, arm in arm.
Benny sank back in his chair with a sigh of relief, his grin stretching just about as wide as it could go. ‘There we are then, all breaches healed. Don’t it do your heart good to see it?’ In his experience, families might fall out but they always made up in the end. Certainly his own did. No matter what cross purposes there might be at times between himself and his mam, or even with Lucy, they all pulled together in times of trouble.
‘Indeed,’ Hubert agreed, his tone as cold as the ice feathering the bay windows.
‘Perhaps now,’ Benny earnestly remarked, ‘you and I should talk, man to man as it were. Get matters on a proper footing.’ He was so beset by sudden nervousness that he stuffed a whole triangle of egg sandwich into his mouth, quickly followed by a slurp of tea.
Hubert grimaced. ‘That might be productive.’
He’d been right all along. Wasn’t a father supposed to help his daughter, and offer a helping hand to a new member of the family? Everything was going to work out fine. ‘Well, you go first. Ask me anything you like, I’ve nothing to be ashamed of. Then I’ll ask you. How would that be?’
Hubert smoothed the ends of his moustache. ‘An excellent notion.’
Benny reached for another egg sandwich. They were so tiny he could eat a dozen but was managing to restrain his hunger. ‘Fire away.’
‘Where, and how, were you intending my grandson, or granddaughter, to be brought up?’ Hubert coolly enquired and taking this interest as a good sign, Benny carefully explaine
d that although there were no jobs to be found at present because of all the returning servicemen, the bad weather and strikes and so on, he had plans. Anxious to impress he hurried on to outline them, saying how he needed only a modest amount of capital to set himself up in business.
‘Buying and selling household goods and furniture, there lies the future,’ he expounded, ‘as I’m sure you’ll agree.’
Hubert merely raised one brow, saying nothing and, beginning to relax, Benny pulled a packet of woodbine from his pocket, offered Hubert one and when he declined with a shake of the head, lit up one for himself.
‘Our biggest problem, apart from the lack of capital, as I said, is where we’re living. It’s not good enough for Belinda.’
‘I’m sure you’re right.’
Pleased he was striking the right note, Benny ploughed on. ‘It seems to me that a man of property such as yourself, wouldn’t want his grandson to be brought up in the vicinity of Pansy Street.’
‘It’s a pity you didn’t consider the matter more carefully before things reached this parlous state.’
Benny wasn’t sure what parlous meant but doubted it was complimentary. ‘There’s still time,’ he reasoned. ‘The child isn’t born yet.’ Eager to explain further about his plans he shuffled forward in his seat so he could flick the ash from his cigarette into the fire grate. He missed and hit the faded Persian rug instead. Mindful of his manners he got up and rubbed the ash in with his heel and swiftly apologised.
Manfully swallowing the choking sensation that was tightening his chest, Hubert asked, ‘and how much - capital - did you have in mind?
Benny leaned back in his seat, feeling increasingly comfortable that Hubert was genuine in wanting to help. He mentioned a sum and seeing his expression of disbelief, hastened to adjust it. ‘I reckon I could manage with less if you’d agree to us moving in here. Just till we get going like and can afford a place of us own. I mean, you’re not short of space, are you? More bedrooms than you know what to do with, eh?’ He was babbling now and Benny knew it but somehow felt himself too far down the road he’d chosen to back out of it. All he could do was hope for a good reception to his ideas, for Belinda’s sake. ‘We only need one, for us and the baby. Belinda’s mam could help look after it. She’d enjoy that I’m sure, which would mean Belinda could get a bit of a job if she wanted one. I’m not a stuffy, old fashioned husband, like some. Belinda’s a smart lass with a brain in her head. I’ve no objection to my wife working.’
‘I’m sure you haven’t. Your plans seem - substantial. You think big, I can tell.’
Benny swelled out his chest with pride. ‘Oh , I’m a born enter - entpren...’
‘Entrepreneur?’ offered Hubert drily.
‘Aye, that’s it. Never short of ideas isn’t Benny Pride. It runs in the family don’t you know. It’d all be above board of course. A proper loan. Only if I borrow from you instead of a bank manager, you wouldn’t be likely to charge nearly so much in the way of interest, now would you? It being all in the family as it were.’
Hubert leaned forward in his chair, hands lightly clasped, elbows resting on his knees. His tone was mild, ponderous. ‘Let me see if I’ve got this right. You wish to live in my house, have my wife help look after your infant while borrowing money from me on a low rate of interest, so you can set up this business plan to be a - an entrepreneur. Is that about the size of it?’
‘Got it in one.’
Hubert’s voice dropped to a low whisper. ‘And what’s in it for me?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘What do I get out of this scheme of yours?’ The question took Benny by surprise but before he could fathom a reply, Hubert continued, ‘I expect you think you can have an easy ride because you’ve married Belinda. Well, in my view you’ve messed her life up completely.’ His voice remained quiet, even meditative, but Benny didn’t much care for what he was saying. If he said owt wrong about Belinda, he’d clock him one, father-in-law or not.
‘If I were to put up the money for this - enterprise, and I haven’t said that I will yet,’ holding up one cautionary hand as Benny’s eyes lit up, ‘I reckon I deserve a favour in return. Wouldn’t you say that was fair? I’d have a few terms of my own.’
Benny frowned. ‘What sort of terms?’
He reached for the whisky decanter. ‘Well then, let me tell you what I have in mind.’
Chapter Seventeen
Charlie had been to see the doctor again, his heart and lungs given a clean bill of health, which was a great relief. Polly had been afraid he might have angina or leukaemia, or something else seriously life-threatening. When she’d expressed her relief about that, Charlie, twisted with pain, had said no, he’d definitely live - unfortunately. The pain of the arthritis got him down at times, though he was making some improvement with the tablets the doctor had given him. Sometimes he allowed Polly to rub embrocation into his muscles at night. At other times he nearly screamed when she touched him. It made her feel so helpless, so out of control. But the doctor insisted that he rest and not inflame the joints, which meant he was never going to be the fit man he’d once been. This meant it was even more important that she make a success of manufacturing.
Polly had invested heavily in washing and dyeing machines as well as the second-hand loom from the mill at Hebden Bridge. Despite the difficulties everyone was experiencing in these difficult times, they were already producing several yards of carpet a week which the girls stitched together to fit any size of room.
When Benny burst in, demanding to speak to her right away, she was helping her old mate Maisie Wright, whom she’d taken on as a spool setter, to arrange the different shades of bobbins in their correct pattern grid on a large square table.
‘By heck,’ Maisie said. ‘The lad looks like he’s just landed in a parachute,’ referring to Benny’s dishevelled, excited appearance.
He was so full of himself, that he was well on with his tale by the time Polly ushered him into her office and closed the door. She regarded her son with eyes narrowed in shrewd speculation. ‘Are ye saying that you’ve changed your mind, that you’ll come into the business after all? Honest to God, I never thought to hear the day. So what brought about this change of heart?’
‘I’ve been talking to Hubert.’ Hands in pockets and rocking on his heels since he was quite unable to stand still, Benny tossed the name out as if he were quite familiar with using his father-in-law’s Christian name.
‘Hubert?’
‘Hubert Clarke, Belinda’s ...’
‘I know who he is. But what does Hubert Clarke have to do with your coming into the business with me, assuming I survive this terrible winter, that is.’ Indeed she thought she could guess, following their earlier discussion about their respective children, and almost smiled to herself as Benny squirmed with embarrassment. How he hated to lose face.
Relieved as he was to get help, Benny had, in fact, been rather shaken by the interview with his father-in-law. Hubert had made it crystal clear that whatever he’d suffered thus far with problems over a licence, petitions and eviction notices, not forgetting being set upon in dark alleys, was nothing in comparison to what could happen if he didn’t co-operate.
At first he’d almost been prepared to take the risk in order to hang on to his prized independence, rather than have his father-in-law take what seemed like complete control of his life, let alone interfere in his mam’s business. But then he thought of Belinda, and the empty cupboard, not to mention imminent fatherhood, and somehow he’d managed to swallow his pride and hear him out.
After a while Benny recognised many advantages in the plan, besides providing the security they so desperately needed. He saw no reason not to go along with the idea. Wasn’t it worth losing his pride and independence if he could keep his family safe? And who knew where it could all lead? The plan had the added benefit of a proper role for himself, as well as burying the hatchet as it were, and pleasing both sets of parents in one go. All of which
surely had to be beneficial for everyone concerned. He just had to persuade his mother to agree. ‘I thought you wanted me to come in with you.’
‘I do.’ Polly decided to play along, resolving not to let him see how she’d been the instigator of Hubert’s sudden interest in his son-in-law. ‘I just don’t understand what changed your mind.’
‘Because I can recognise a good idea when I see one. Just for once, Mam, hear me out without interrupting. It’d work like this …’ And he set about carefully explaining the deal. Polly’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he talked, and sank into a chair while Benny paced back and forth in the office.
Hubert, as a credit trader and wholesaler, would supply Polly with goods at competitive wholesale prices. She must buy exclusively from him to get the best terms but could then sell the goods either at normal retail price to her own customers, or at a higher credit price to the club customers he sent her. They would bring with them a voucher to an agreed value which they paid off week by week at a shilling in the pound. Ron, Hubert’s son, did the collecting, he explained, and if folk got behind in their payment or did a moonlight flit, it was Hubert who stood the loss.
This was the last thing Polly had been expecting, for Hubert to come up with a plan which included her. ‘Why doesn’t he sell his wholesale goods to his own customers direct?’
‘Because that would turn his business into a retail operation. He’d have to take on shop premises, employ staff to display, sell and wrap the goods which all costs money. He makes his profit by selling in bulk to his suppliers, and through his credit club. He does well, Mam. There’s no flies on him.’
Polly drily remarked that she didn’t wonder at it since he seemed to be playing the fiddle from both ends, but Benny wasn’t to be distracted. He continued with his explanation. ‘You can’t lose. He already has the customers waiting for somewhere to spend their money. Of course, you couldn’t do all of this from the warehouse. You’d have to take on a shop, a big one, in the city centre.’
Polly's War Page 20