A Woman of Substance (95 page)

That Christmas was a particularly merry one and the house rang with peals of laughter, the friendly but unmerciful bantering that went on between the RAF boys and her daughters, the endless sound of the gramophone and the clink of glasses. Emma entertained gaily, taking them all under her wing, enjoying the fun as much as the young people. But whether she was being the gracious hostess or quietly sitting in a corner, looking on and knitting a Balaclava helmet, she was aware of David Amory. Her smile was benign but her eyes were watchful as she observed the seventeen-year-old Daisy, her most beloved child, being bewitched and falling under the fatal spell of the dashing young RAF officer. And David appeared to be as enamoured with Daisy as she was with him, and he was never far from her side. Emma held her breath, knowing they were falling in love and that there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Nor was she certain she wanted to interfere. After the holidays, David Amory became a constant visitor at Belgrave Square, whether he arrived with Robin or came alone, and over the months Emma took him to her heart. He was from an old Gloucestershire family, well
bred and well educated, and had been studying law when the war had erupted. Emma quickly discovered he had integrity and a bright mind, as well as a gentleness that she found appealing, and she could not help but approve of him for Daisy. It did not come as a surpise when David asked her permission to marry her youngest child. He did so in May of 1943, just after Daisy’s eighteenth birthday. ‘But she’s so young, David darling,’ Emma exclaimed, intending to persuade them to wait. But she found herself saying instead, ‘When do you plan to get married?’

Daisy, who had been hovering nervously by the fireplace, hugged her so furiously Emma winced. Daisy’s face was radiant and her eyes sparkled. ‘Next weekend, Mummy, if that’s all right with you.’

The wedding was quiet, just as Elizabeth’s had been, because of the wartime conditions and Emma’s natural reluctance to display her wealth in such troubled times. Daisy wore a blue silk dress, a matching picture hat, and carried a nosegay of summer flowers. Winston gave her away, Robin was the best man, and Elizabeth the matron of honour. David’s parents and younger sister came up from Gloucestershire for the wedding and there was a small reception at the house afterwards. The young couple had a one-night honeymoon at the Ritz Hotel before David returned to Biggin Hill and Daisy to her mother’s house.

And then, almost before Emma could catch her breath, Robin married Valerie Ludden, a nursing friend of Elizabeth’s, in January of 1944, and a few weeks later Elizabeth gave birth to a son, whom she named Alexander. Elizabeth, who wanted to be close to Tony, found a small cottage near the airfield and moved there when the baby was a month old.

‘It hardly seems possible they are all married now,’ Emma said to Winston one day in the spring, when they were lunching together. ‘Or that I have three grandchildren. I feel as old as the hills.’

‘Nonsense,’ Winston declared. ‘You’re the damnedest-looking grandmother I’ve ever seen. And you’ll never get old, Emma. You have the kind of beauty that is indestructible.’ He grinned at her affectionately. ‘Furthermore, Frank tells
me that the American major you met at his house has taken quite a fancy to you.
You
might find yourself with a suitor before you know it.’

‘Don’t be foolish, Winston,’ Emma snapped, but she smiled as she spoke.

‘I’m not being foolish,’ Winston responded. ‘After all, you’ll only be fifty-five next month. Besides, you look years younger.’ He paused and eyed her carefully. ‘And Paul has been dead for almost five years.’

Emma was silent and Winston changed the subject. He and Frank constantly talked about the possibility of Emma forming a relationship with another man, and they went out of their way to introduce her to their eligible friends. But although she was gracious, she was patently not interested. She would never replace Paul in her life; she did not want to.

The year 1945 began auspiciously for Emma. Daisy gave birth to her first child in January. It was a girl.

‘How do you feel, darling?’ Emma asked as she walked into Daisy’s private room at the London Clinic.

‘Thin,’ Daisy said, laughing. She hugged Emma. ‘I was awfully lucky. It was an easy birth.’

‘Yes, I know. The doctor told me.’ Emma moved a strand of hair away from Daisy’s face and kissed her. ‘I just spoke to David at Biggin Hill. He’s thrilled to bits. Celebrating with the boys from the squadron, and playing the proud father. He’s going to phone you a little later. And good news, darling. He’s got a twenty-four hour pass. He’ll be up in town tomorrow.’

‘Oh, that’s wonderful, Mummy. I can’t wait to see him.’ Daisy wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m not sure who the baby looks like. She’s awfully crumpled and red, poor little thing. But she has black hair, and I think she’s going to have a widow’s peak like yours from the way her hairline is formed. And her eyes are violet. Do you think they’ll change colour?’

‘They might,’ Emma said, sitting down. ‘They often do. Still, yours remained blue.’

‘I’ve chosen the baby’s first two names, Mummy,’ Daisy announced. ‘I’m going to call her Paula McGill. After my father.’

Emma’s face, normally inscrutable, was only too readable for once in her life, and Daisy burst out laughing. ‘Don’t look so shocked. Honestly, Mummy, for a woman as sophisticated as you are, you can be awfully naïve sometimes. Did you think I didn’t know Paul was my father?’

Emma said, ‘I—I—’ and stopped.

Daisy laughed again, but it was a gentle laugh and full of love. ‘Even when I was quite small I thought he was my father. After all, he was always with us and we travelled everywhere with him. Then, as I grew older, I realized how much I resembled him physically. And let’s face it, I never knew Arthur Ainsley, whose name I bear.’ Daisy paused and her bright blue eyes were fixed intently on Emma. ‘Anyway, when I was twelve Paul told me himself.’

Emma’s jaw dropped. ‘Paul told you he was your father! I can’t believe it!’

Daisy nodded. ‘Well, he did. He said he wanted me to know, and that I was old enough to understand. But he said it must be our secret for a few years. He was worried you would be upset. He explained everything to me very directly and carefully, and with so much gentleness. He told me why you and he couldn’t be married, but that he hoped to solve the problem one day. He also told me that he had legally adopted me, and he said he loved us both more than anything in the world.’ Daisy’s eyes were moist. She cleared her throat and finished, ‘Actually, it didn’t come as much of a surprise to me, Mummy, because by that time I had guessed. I told him so, and he really chuckled. He said he knew his Princess was the smartest girl in the world.’

‘Didn’t—doesn’t it bother you, knowing you are illegitimate?’ Emma managed to ask.

‘Oh, Mummy, don’t be so old-fashioned. Of course it doesn’t. I’d rather be Paul McGill’s illegitimate daughter than Arthur Ainsley’s legitimate daughter any day of the week.’

Tears welled in Emma’s eyes and she fumbled for her handkerchief. ‘I—I—don’t know what to say,’ she began falteringly.

Daisy leaned forward and held out her arms to Emma. ‘I love you, Mummy. And I loved Paul. I couldn’t have had better parents if I’d chosen them myself. And you have been
the most wonderful mother in the whole world.’

‘But why didn’t you tell me you knew before?’ Emma asked in a muffled voice, her face pushed against Daisy’s shoulder. ‘Why didn’t you tell me when Paul died?’

‘I didn’t think it was really the right time. My main concern was trying to alleviate your grief.’

Emma sat back in the chair, blowing her nose. She smiled weakly at Daisy, her face reflecting her love. ‘I’m glad you know, darling. I should have told you myself. But I thought you would react like—that you would be upset and that you would hate me and Paul.’

‘You are a silly goose, Mummy. I could never hate or criticize you or my father for what you did. You loved each other.’ Daisy took hold of Emma’s hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m proud to be your daughter.’ Daisy gave Emma a questioning look. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind my calling the baby after my father?’

‘I’m thrilled,’ Emma said.

The nurse came in, interrupting them. Emma held the baby in her arms and her face glowed as she looked down at the small bundle nestling against her shoulder. This is Paul’s first grandchild, she thought, and her heart quickened. If only he had been alive to see her. Paula McGill Amory, the first of a new generation in the McGill dynasty.

One week later Daisy came home to Belgrave Square, where her old nursery had been beautifully prepared to receive its new young occupant. Almost immediately the child became the centre of Emma’s world, and if she sometimes usurped Daisy’s role as mother, Daisy did not seem to mind in the least. She was gratified to see Emma so joyous and smiling. And she enthusiastically encouraged her mother when she talked of her plans for Paula and her future.

And the future in general was beginning to look brighter. ‘It’s as if Paula’s birth was a good omen,’ Emma said one morning over breakfast, gesturing to the newspaper she was reading. ‘The Allies are really making a breakthrough. I think the war will end soon.’

She was right in this assumption. As the new year eased into spring, the whole of England took heart. In March, the
American First Army crossed the Rhine over the bridge at Remagen and established an invasion bridgehead in Germany. Between April 20 and 25, the Russians entered Berlin, and five days later Hitler and Eva Braun committed suicide. The Third Reich, which the Führer had said would last a thousand years, had disintegrated in humiliating defeat. On May 7, the Germans surrendered unconditionally at Rheims in France.

Emma was in Leeds on May 8, which was V-E Day in Britain. She dined that night with Winston and Charlotte and they drank two bottles of champagne in celebration. But in spite of the flags hanging out of windows and fluttering on flagpoles all over Leeds, and the festivities going on around them, Emma felt more relieved than jubilant. And she drew her first easy breath in six years. Her sons were safe, and her sons-in-law, and the sons of her brother and her dearest friends, Blackie O’Neill and David Kallinski. There had been no casualties in their families, and for that Emma was deeply grateful.

And slowly they all came home.

‘I just stopped by to congratulate you, Emma,’ Blackie O’Neill said, striding into the drawing room at Pennistone Royal. ‘Winston tells me the Yorkshire Consolidated Newspaper Company has taken control of the
Yorkshire Morning Gazette.
So you’ve finally won!’

Emma smiled at him faintly. ‘Yes, I have. But then you always knew I would, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, I did.’ He threw her a sharp glance and asked, ‘How did you do it, Emma? I’m very curious.’

‘Patience, really, and a weak adversary.’ She folded her hands in her lap, looked down at the McGill emerald and then went on crisply. ‘My newspapers are the most successful in Yorkshire and they have slowly eaten up all of the
Gazette’s
circulation. That paper’s been losing money since the end of the war. To be honest, I deliberately ran the
Gazette
into the ground, and I did so without compunction. Edwin Fairley is not a good businessman. He should have stuck to law.’ She
laughed dryly. ‘And he’s made a few fatal errors, not the least of which was selling a big block of his shares two years ago. He weakened his position. He has not been dealing from strength for a long time.’

‘But he stayed on as chairman of the board,’ Blackie interjected.

‘Yes, he did. But he failed to recognize the tenuousness of his position, and he also underestimated the other shareholders, both the old and the new. He just didn’t seem to realize that loyalty flies out of the window when there’s a great deal of money at stake. The board has been worried about the failing papers for years, and when Harte Enterprises approached them to buy up their shares they were willing to sell, almost to the last man. I’ve been acquiring shares in the company for years, and those, coupled with my last purchases, gave me a lot of power. Those shareholders who didn’t at first sell to me finally threw their weight behind me when I offered to step in and put new management into the company. Very simply, Edwin Fairley was outvoted at the last board meeting and had to step down as chairman. Harte Enterprises made an offer for the remainder of his shares and, surprisingly, he sold.’

‘Quite a coup for you, Emma, eh?’ Blackie remarked. ‘But I’m surprised you weren’t present at that board meeting to witness his demise. Winston said
he
represented you.’

Emma’s face changed radically and a cold glint entered her eyes. She said, ‘Forty-five years ago I told Edwin Fairley I would never see him again as long as I lived, and I haven’t. You don’t think I want to set eyes on him now, do you?’

Blackie shrugged. ‘I suppose not,’ he responded quietly. ‘Did Winston say how Edwin reacted when he learned you were behind his fall from power at the
Gazette
?’

Emma nodded. ‘Apparently he was poker-faced. All barristers are good actors, you know. Then he said, “I see.” But Winston told me Edwin had a peculiar look on his face, which he found hard to fathom.’ She paused and stared fully at Blackie. ‘Winston said he thought Edwin looked gratified. Odd, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Yes, I would. I can’t imagine why Edwin Fairley would be gratified you had taken over his newspaper.’ He shook his
head, baffled. ‘The paper that’s been in his family for three generations.’

‘God knows,’ Emma said, ‘it’s a mystery to me. I told Winston it was more than likely sheer relief he witnessed.’ She laughed ironically. ‘In one way, you might say I’ve lifted a burden from Edwin’s shoulders.’

‘Aye, mavourneen,’ Blackie said, and his face was unreadable as he lit a cigar. Maybe she’s right, he thought. Maybe Edwin Fairley is relieved, but not for the reason she thinks.

Emma rose. ‘I must go out and look for Paula. It’s time for her lunch. I won’t be a minute, Blackie. Please excuse me.’

Blackie nodded and followed her out on to the terrace. He stood watching her hurry down into the garden, his eyes trained on her and narrowed against the bright August sunlight. Emma drew to a standstill at the lily pond at the bottom of the garden and bent down to talk to Paula, who was playing with her doll’s pram on the lawn. Emma was as lithe as she had ever been, and in the distance, in her light summer frock and with her still luxuriant hair now tinted to the russet-gold shade of her youth, she appeared to be the young girl he had first met on the moors so long ago, and for an instant the decades fell away. He clearly recalled his little servant girl of Fairley Hall, and a slow smile spread itself across his face. Almost half a century had passed and so much had happened, things he had never dreamed possible. How extraordinary life was. And Emma went on for ever, as indomitable now as she had been then. He blinked and shaded his eyes. He saw her smooth her hand over the child’s head and then she straightened up and returned to the terrace, walking briskly.