Missing the Moment Read online

  “Like mother like daughter!” Joe whispered.

  “Stop this, Rhoda,” Charlotte said firmly. “Uncle Peter is improving and hopes to be home with us again in less than a week. What he wanted to talk to Joe and me about was business. Business. You know, the stuff that fills your pockets but bores you stupid.”

  They walked to the nearest café for a much-needed cup of tea, but Rhoda wouldn’t stop sobbing.

  “I know you aren’t telling me the truth. People always want to protect me.”

  By the time they parted. Joe and Charlotte to cycle home, Rhoda and Brian to go by car, Charlotte felt exhausted.

  “I wonder why Jack Roberts wants to take his money out of the business,” Charlotte said. “He bought himself in as a partner just after the war. I thought he was content.”

  “He is sixty-two. Perhaps he wants to retire and do something with his life before his health gives out.”

  “But take out all the money when he knows it’s so difficult?”

  “You have to do what’s best for yourself sometimes, and for Jack Roberts the time has come for him to break away and do something else. Perhaps he wants to travel. It’s getting easier every day now to go abroad.”

  “I doubt that. He seems the type to stay home. He’s involved in so many things. The youth club, the church and the choir. No, there must be a more serious reason. Why could he need money so badly he’d risk ruining the family business?”

  “Gambling? Women? Debts? There aren’t that many possibilities,” Joe mused. “I’ve never heard of him backing horses, there doesn’t seem to be a woman in his life and what debts could he incur? He lives in one room in Kath Thomas’s boarding house and once his rent and board are paid he doesn’t have anything more to pay for. He walks to work so he doesn’t even have to find a bus fare!”

  “Best we talk to him,” Charlotte said. “If I can persuade Mam I have to go to the office for a while!”

  “I’ll come with you. Perhaps if we went to see him at home this evening… After he’s been to church would be a good time?”

  It was raining, a cold, steady drizzle that had continued without ceasing all day. They both had waterproof capes but the water splashed up from the road as well as pouring from the skies and they were soaking wet and chilled when they returned to Mill House.

  “No sympathy you’ll get from me.” Harriet sighed. “Deserve to be uncomfortable, refusing a lift with your sister and going all that way on a bicycle. But then,” she added. “what can you expect if you waste your time with a repair man?”

  * * *

  At her boarding house near the road bridge. Kath opened the door to them at seven that evening and invited them in.

  “How’s your poor auntie, Joe? There’s a carry on. Two young men onto one helpless woman. What a disgrace.”

  “Young, were they?” Joe frowned. “I wonder if one was a tall, well-built man of about twenty?”

  “Now how can I answer that, boy?” Hands on hips, she glared at him as if he were stupid. “I never saw nothing. It’s your auntie you’ll have to ask!” She looked at him as they entered her private sitting room and asked, “Why you asking? Got anyone in mind, have you?”

  “Not really. but I saw someone later that night, a tall, young chap. He asked the way to Barry and I directed him to the station. Stranger he was.”

  “Best you tell Constable Hardy then. He’s been here asking if any strangers have stayed recently. Told him no, but he’d want to know about the man you saw.”

  Kath was a round-faced woman with pale skin which shone, Joe thought, as if she polished it along with the furniture. Dark eyes shone too, beneath shaggy brows, and thick brown hair framed her thin features in luxuriant waves. An attractive woman, but one who seemed uninterested in finding a second husband to replace her Cedric, who had died at Passchendaele. Joe asked if Jack Roberts was in, although from the position of the chairs and Jack’s glasses resting on the table beside one of them, it seemed likely Jack had recently vacated it. Perhaps Jack was the reason she had so long refrained from remarrying, he mused.

  “Down for a cup of tea he’ll be in a minute. Just gone up to take off his Sunday-best suit,” Kath poked her head out of the living room door and called, and from above they heard Jack’s quiet, polite voice reply.

  Jack Roberts was a rather handsome man, grey hair still thick, face smooth, with skin that always looked slightly tanned, even in mid-winter. His mouth had a generous fullness and was topped by a slim, carefully shaped moustache that gave him the look of an ageing film star. He was not tall, about five feet six inches, and sturdily built, even a little overweight, yet with an elegance about him that made women turn their heads and hope for a smile. Men found him pleasant company and children flocked around him whenever he visited families on church business.

  His greeting to Charlotte and Joe was warm and friendly.

  “There’s lovely to see two charming young people when I thought my day was over! Called to let us know how Bessie is doing, I expect?”

  “Well, yes, partly that.” Charlotte explained, “but also because Peter asked us to talk to you.”

  “Oh, Business!” Kath said. rising from her chair. “I’ll make myself scarce then, is it?”

  “Perhaps we could go to my room.” He quirked an eyebrow at Kath for permission.

  “Go on, I’ll bring up your teas in about ten minutes.”

  Jack Roberts’ room was as neat as the man. Shelves held an orderly row of books, including theology, and bibles in both Welsh and English. A rack of shoes, all neatly polished, was visible below a curtain which, presumably, hid his clothes. An old trunk stood in a corner piled with freshly laundered sheets and pillow cases. Ready, Charlotte supposed, for the Monday morning change of bedding.

  A chair was facing the electric fire and, at its side was a table, on which was an open book. Nothing was out of place. Yet it was a friendly room, neither formal nor uninviting.

  Charlotte came straight to the point. “Uncle Peter’s worried about your wanting to take your investment out of the firm.” she began, when they were all seated. “It’s an awkward time and well…” She looked at Joe for support.

  “He wondered if you could be persuaded to wait, just a few months, a year at the most, until the firm is in a better position to cope with it. Question of cash flow.” Joe went on. “I know, being in business myself, just how much money you need just lying idle as it were, to cover slow payers and the expense of holding stock.”

  “He buys too much at a time.” Jack Roberts said, smiling.

  “To get better prices,” Charlotte said defensively.

  “He carries too much stock. It isn’t better prices if you have to have a bank loan to cover the money lying idle. There’s a need to consider all aspects you see.”

  “Are you saying he isn’t running the firm properly?” Charlotte was beginning to feel loyal anger rising and she looked again at Joe, wanting him to protest.

  “He runs the firm as it has always been run, my dear. But that’s no longer enough. A change is long overdue.”

  “What do you mean? Russell’s is famous for quality work. Most of our work is done by hand. How can you change that?” Charlotte demanded.

  “During the war all firms had to change their attitudes and their methods. The number of books your father produced was drastically reduced. He had to go over to making booklets and pamphlets of government information, anything he could get. When the war ended, most firms grabbed back much of the business they had lost and, well, your father was gone by then and your uncle is too much a gentleman for the fierce tactics needed to fight for his share.”

  “What do you think he should do?” Joe asked quietly.

  “I’ve only been with him for five years so I don’t think I should presume to –” He smiled gently at Charlotte. “It’s for your uncle to decide, my dear.”

  “And you won’t consider leaving your money where it is, for a few months at least?” Joe asked. Jack sh
ook his head sadly.

  “I don’t consider my money is in the best place any longer. Besides, if you can keep a secret, I’ll tell you what I plan to do with it.” He tapped the side of his nose in an unmistakable gesture and tiptoed to the door. Opening it, he smiled and said. “Thank you Mrs Thomas, our tea. You are very kind.” Taking the tray, he firmly closed the door against her and put the tray down on a small table.

  He didn’t speak for a while. listening until he heard the creak of the stairs as Kath, finally giving up hope of some interesting eavesdropping, went back to her kitchen.

  “There’s a young man who I have known for many years who needs help. I think, with a little financial assistance, he will do well. I want to be the one to put him on the road to a successful future. He has a family that, without my help, will live in abysmally poor conditions. With my help, they will have a good home and a business to keep them solvent.”

  “Relation, is he?” Joe asked.

  “No,” Jack replied with a smile, “just someone in need.”

  “That’s commendable, Mr Roberts,” Joe said. “but in helping them you will possibly see Peter Russell and his family having to sell up their home.”

  “They will never be as desperate as this young man and his family. As for Peter Russell’s problem, I think Charlotte here could turn the business around in less than a year.”

  “Me?”

  “Why not you? Surely you aren’t one of these who think a woman’s place is in the home? I’d have thought taking over your father’s business was what you were best suited for, my dear. What about you, Joe, don’t you think Charlotte has a head for business?”

  “I think Charlotte could do anything she set her mind to do.” Joe smiled proudly at Charlotte and she felt a warm glow of love spreading between them.

  “I couldn’t,” she said, but her eyes were filled with excitement. Perhaps this was what she had been looking for. A business to build, and one about which she already knew a great deal, thanks to the hours spent with first her father then her uncle. Then the glow faded. “Mam wouldn’t be willing, for a start.”

  “Think about it, and,” Jack whispered. “not a word about what I told you.”

  “Then you can’t help Mr Russell?” Joe asked.

  Jack shook his head. “I am sorry.”

  It was as they rose to leave that Charlotte saw the bruise on the left side of Jack Roberts’ jaw.

  “Good heavens, Mr Roberts! Don’t tell me you’ve been fighting as well!”

  “There’s no one in the world to whom I could feel enough anger to make me fight.” He rubbed his chin ruefully. “This happened when I trod on the cord of my dressing gown and fell down the last three stairs. Poor Kath, she thought the house was falling down!” he laughed.

  “So,” Joe said as they set off for Mill House. “Jack Roberts isn’t going to change his mind. I wonder just how serious the situation is?”

  Charlotte didn’t reply and when Joe looked at her she seemed to be in a daze.

  “Charlotte?”

  “I’m wondering if I could persuade Mam to let me help and eventually take over Russell’s Bookbinders and Restorers.” Charlotte said slowly, her eyes shining.

  “You don’t really want to work all your life, do you?” Joe said. “What about me? Us? I want you, Charlotte. I want you in our home, minding our children and—”

  “Cooking your meals?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with that. What is wrong, is you thinking we can’t achieve both!”

  They were silent as they made their way through the town, cycling over the road bridge and dismounting as the hill steepened. At her gate, Joe pulled her towards him. “I love you Charlotte, I always have. Whatever happens; I always will.”

  They kissed passionately and her body cried out for him as strongly as ever, but when they parted at her door, she said quietly. “Do you love me enough to allow me to be myself, Joe? To share in all our decisions? Or is your love the convenient sort that wants my love to be submissive, that will mould me into the character that suits you best?”

  “I love you. Everything else can be sorted. Trust me.”

  Thoughts of running the family firm excited her. She knew now without any doubt that it was what she wanted to do. And parallel to that revelation, loud and firm, came the knowledge that she didn’t want to lose Joe to achieve it. He was as important to her as becoming a businesswoman in her own right. Under her breath she whispered: I hope I can trust you with my life, Joe Llewellyn, I hope I can.

  Chapter Three

  Snow began to fall in the village and was added to over several days. A wind increased the difficulties of travel by creating mountains of snow against every possible object. The hills were invisible under the heavy opaque air for most of the day and when glimpses were seen nothing looked the same. Blizzards had created caverns where there were none and great monoliths that looked solid but which melted and changed their shape in the first increase in temperature.

  To Charlotte it was a beautiful sight and as soon as she was able, she walked up the hill and looked down on the town. Patchwork buildings, half hidden by the white covering, looked like ruins, their shape distorted by the snow and the blue shadows. The roads, made safe with the addition of sand and gravel, were arteries of drabness. Waste ground and the school sports field were still white and unmarked and the river glistened like an exotic bejewelled snake.

  Refreshed and strangely excited, Charlotte didn’t go home. She went instead along the lane, half filled with the now discoloured snow, and went to the factory. She was greeted by Jack, who arranged for tea and settled her in front of the electric fire.

  “It was too good to miss,” she said when he had heard about her walk. “And I wasn’t ready to go home.”

  “While you’re here why don’t you look at some of the jobs we’re setting up?”

  He led her into the noisy workroom where hammers knocked the backs of books to “round” them, before finishing the job on the Starr Backer that had been working there for almost a hundred years. The Johnie Perfecta guillotine chuntered away and several other machines added to the din. She stopped for a moment and watched a machine clanging its rhythmic beat as it sewed sections of a book. The operator threw the sections onto the saddle, then waited while it was stitched before throwing on the next section. When the book was completed, the girl pulled the saddle forward to separate it before beginning another book.

  Charlotte felt the usual excitement as she stood amid the activity and absorbed the percussion of the place, almost getting a hint of a melody from the heavy machines and the lighter banging of the hammers. Her own heart joined in the music and she knew that this was truly where she belonged. Jack looked at her and smiled. understanding the excitement she felt.

  In various parts of the same room. people were doing quiet jobs, like folding and creasing pages with the bone-folder, glueing the end papers. putting muslin on the spines and shoulders, unperturbed by the noise. They didn’t try to talk but occasionally mouthed a few words and laughter lit their faces. The workers were a team. If only she could become one of them.

  In spite of the impression given by the noise of heavy machines, much of the work was done by hand. In one corner, experienced women placed boards on the leather-cloth covers, evenly and accurately each time, cutting the corners and turning in the cover so that the overlap was even, with never a mistake. Charlotte watched for a while in fascination.

  A new job that Jack wanted her to see was the book of flower prints her uncle had shown her. Jack turned the book for her to see. It was a collection of water-colours, each page having its own semitransparent protective leaf. Some of the protective paper had become stuck to the painting, leaving a number of small fluffy patches. Gaynor Edwards, who was working on it, smiled and moved so that Charlotte could see the beautiful flower prints.

  Jack explained that the painting had been enhanced with gum arabic and left closed
for many years and this had caused the damage, which the young woman was carefully removing.

  “But I don’t understand,” Charlotte frowned. “This job was underway weeks ago. Long before Uncle Peter was taken ill. I saw him working on it myself.”

  “We’ve only just found it. Packed away in a drawer instead of being with the ‘work in hand’. If I hadn’t been searching for some fresh rolls of Crompton Tissue for page repairs on a new job I wouldn’t have found it.” Jack said. “I didn’t know you’d seen them. Don’t be upset about your uncle, my dear.” Jack said gently. “He’s unwell and a bit absent-minded, that’s all. Nothing for you to worry about. I just thought you’d enjoy looking at the paintings and seeing how well Mrs Gaynor Edwards is dealing with them.” He went on to describe how they would be rebound and the cover replaced.

  “Thank you for showing me. I do think they’re beautiful. But when was the work promised? A month ago?”

  “Probably longer,” Jack admitted.

  “I’ll work on in the evenings if you like, Miss Russell, get it finished a few days earlier then,” Gaynor Edwards offered. “All right?”

  “Thank you. That would be a help.”

  “Anything for Mr Peter, isn’t it, Jack?”

  “Miss Charlotte knows that,” Jack smiled.

  Charlotte’s mood was changed. The delight of the walk on the hill was ruined by the reminder that all was far from well in the business. Jack was an accountant yet he was having to arrange the work, search out jobs that had been abandoned or forgotten, keep the orders moving and deal with the replacement of fresh stock. It was crazy that she was unable to help. Gaynor Edwards had been with the firm since she was fourteen and at thirty-nine was a valued employee, but even she needed to be told what to do and when. How much longer could things continue like this without the whole thing grinding to a halt?

  “Oh, Miss!” Gaynor called, as Charlotte was putting on her coat. “There’s sorry I am, but I’ve just remembered. We can’t work on tonight. Jack and I run the Wednesday meeting at the church. Youth Choir it is. The youngsters won’t be very pleased if Jack isn’t there to put them through their paces and I’m not there to see to the refreshments. Tomorrow will be all right though.”