Illusions of Happiness (20 page)

They no longer met in that seedy hotel but at his home, his mother gone. It was wonderful not having to sense people looking at her, guessing what she was up to, especially the hotel porters who would have seen her arrive there regularly once a week. What Anthony’s staff thought, they kept to themselves. If James found out, she would know it could only have come from them and they would soon be dismissed, and in this climate of huge unemployment, who would want that? Thus she felt safe, those miserable eighteen months well behind her, merely hoping James wouldn’t perceive the change in her from pensive to buoyant, practically overnight.

She had never dared hope for the kind of happiness that now possessed her, and the year seemed to speed by. Christmas was almost upon them and she was planning the biggest party ever as well as another to see in the New Year, a celebration to outdo all celebrations. She would be the talk of the town.

James as ever was not of the same mind. ‘The house will be disrupted as usual, it would be rather nice to have one quiet Christmas to ourselves, don’t you think?’

She felt cross with him. ‘You hardly ever show yourself anyway,’ she ranted. ‘It’s a wonder you don’t escape altogether, to your club maybe.’

‘There’d be no one there,’ he said quietly, ‘My friends and colleagues will no doubt be at home enjoying the festive season, quietly, and it would be nice if we did the same.’

She ignored that hint. ‘In that case, I wouldn’t be surprised if you wandered off to some common pub to drink there all on your own, as you were doing when I first met you, of all places to expect a wealthy, respectable businessman to be!’

‘I’m sorry you think so little of me, my dear,’ he said, and adding that it was time he retired to bed, got up slowly from his armchair by the sitting-room fire, leaving her to fume at his refusal ever to rise to argument.

Despite his objections, she’d thrown her parties, enjoying the praise she received, praise that had continued for several months into 1922.

‘He’s beginning to look old,’ she told Anthony. ‘And he’s starting to frown at the money I spend on my social events, even though he tops up my allowance without question. But then, he never seems short of money. It’s amazing how it just rolls in.’

They were lounging on the settee, his arm around her. He’d wound up the gramophone, the record he’d chosen now softly playing
Wyoming Lullaby
in the background. Soon they would be upstairs, the curtains closed against the slanting afternoon sun, with Anthony tenderly kissing her naked body, his kisses growing more urgent until she wanted to scream for him to take her.

‘His business should be doing well,’ he said. ‘The market’s pretty buoyant at the moment. Anyone who’s got it needn’t worry overmuch about their investments letting them down. Gambling on the stock exchange keeps him a rich man.’

He sat up suddenly. ‘That’s something you could do, darling, if he’s being awkward about your allowance.’

She sat up too, slowly. ‘What do you mean?’

He smiled. ‘Dabble in stocks and shares.’

‘Me?’

‘Not heavily of course, but it would help bolster your allowance. You wouldn’t be so dependent on him.’

‘I wouldn’t know how.’

‘I’m certain he’d love to advise you. He wouldn’t take you as a client himself, of course, but there are plenty of brokers who will with him behind you.’

It sounded a wonderful idea. As she left after she and Anthony had fulfilled their need of each other, her mind was running ahead of her. James would teach her, advise her. With him behind her she couldn’t go wrong. Not only that but with her own money, in a few months maybe she could hire someone herself to trace her baby and not have to rely on him. She could hardly wait.

Over breakfast, James was regarding her as if she were a child. ‘My dear, how could you have spent this month’s allowance so soon?’

She felt angry, finding herself being looked upon as incapable of controlling the money he gave her. She’d had to look after her money prior to marrying him, yet he gave her no credit for that; the husband forced to guide his wife, responsible for her every action as if they were back in Victorian times. She fought to remain cool.

‘We’ve attended so many functions this month,’ she said. They were always being invited somewhere, his profession demanding it. ‘You know I needed another couple of new gowns. I can’t be seen in the same ones over and over again. People will notice.’

‘But those you already have you seldom wear more than twice,’ he began gently, but it sounded more like an accusation to her.

Leaping up from the table she cried out, ‘I refuse to be questioned every time I ask for a couple of pounds or so. If I had my own money I wouldn’t need to . . .’

She broke off, seeing that patient look steal into his blue eyes which, she had lately come to realize, meant something other than patience; an icy gaze more alarming than any outburst of anger or raised voice – a warning stare she imagined he’d give a business opponent.

It wasn’t as if she had ever been frightened of him. She could never be that, but the look did unsettle her, hurt her. Instantly she changed her tone.

‘If I had my own money, I wouldn’t need to bother you so much,’ she repeated. ‘I’ve been wondering – if you showed me how one invests in stocks and shares, I might feel less . . . troubled about . . . about troubling you so often.’

She was making a mess of the explanation but the icy expression had vanished and he was smiling indulgently, for a moment making her feel once more like a child being taught its ABC.

‘And you could spend it as you wish?’ Spoken slowly, it was more a statement than a question. ‘And when you’ve exhausted it all, what then?’

He paused, gazing at her from the other end of the breakfast table, the query in his voice still lingering.

She thought quickly. ‘Investing – rather like having to earn it – I will know how to look after it. I had to look after what money I had before I met you. I know I can do that again.’

She waited for his answer while he seemed to be considering his reply. Finally he laid down the knife and fork he’d been using and indicated for her to approach his end of the table, which she did after a moment’s hesitation.

‘Now listen, my dear,’ he said indulgently, ‘if this is what you really want to do, then I will help you. But you must be guided by me so that you come to no harm. Speculating on the Stock Exchange is no light matter. One can lose everything in the blink of an eye.’

‘But one can also gain,’ she reminded him.

‘Quite so, but you should realize, if you are going to embark on such a venture, you will have to apply your mind to studying the market at all times. At all times, do you understand? It cannot be done frivolously.’

‘I had to watch carefully enough after I left home,’ she reminded him. ‘I had no resources. I had to keep my mind on what went out and what I had left to see me through a week. I had no one to help me then.’

As her eyes misted at the memory, he took her hand, patted it gently. ‘I know, my dear.’ He grew thoughtful for a moment then, letting go of her hand, he stood up and went towards door.

‘Where are you going?’ she called after him, mystified.

‘To fetch yesterday’s
Financial Times
from the library. I shall be back in two ticks, my dear.’

His sudden enthusiasm had taken her by surprise and moments later he reappeared with the thick, pink broadsheet, saying, ‘We’d best go into my study,’ and taking her hand, led her from the breakfast room. Spreading the paper on the desk, he made her sit in his brown leather swivel chair, himself remaining standing, leaning over her.

For the next two hours he explained the intricacies of stock market dealings, his tone low and patient, yet she could detect a faint hint of enjoyment. It felt they were closer than they had ever been in all their married life as he explained a little of the jargon used that would help her understand what she read.

‘You must realize that as a novice you are up against those who have been investing for half their lives.’

‘But I have you behind me,’ she said eagerly.

‘But you’ll still have much to learn, my dear. There are well over two thousand quoted companies to choose from, so you must identify the shares and judge if they are going to behave as you hope. It can become quite time-consuming, but utterly fascinating should you find you’ve a natural bent for it.’

As he continued to explain and she to listen attentively, his voice grew solemn and patient; a tutor and his pupil.

‘There are many types of shares – blue chips, recovery shares, growth stocks . . . But we will not go into this just yet.’

He was turning the financial pages slowly, pointing out the various options, most of it going over her head as yet.

‘You will need a portfolio,’ he was saying close to her ear as he bent beside her. ‘A collection of different shares and other investments designed to spread your risks. There are risks attached – which shares are good and carry low risk and those which could prove far from good. There’s a deal of luck attached. You must use your own judgement carefully. With many successful investors it is instinctive. You are a beginner, but you will have me beside you to guide you. And I will guide you, my dear, so that you do not make any glaringly wrong decisions. I will do all I can to keep you safe.’

Madeleine nodded, biting her lip as she tried to take it all in. In all the time she had known him he’d never spoken of his stockbroker business or his own dealings. Now so much candid information came as a surprise.

‘Don’t let it worry you, my dear,’ he was saying, seeing her look of concern. ‘I’ll be here to prevent you making any costly mistakes. Companies are more than a mere set of investment figures. The smallest, unexpected turn of events, and everything you’ve made could be lost. It has happened before and it will happen again. You have to be prepared for the unknown. But I will run you through profit and loss accounts and balance sheets of whatever companies you intend to invest in.’

He paused, smiling indulgently. ‘I will explain anything that confuses you – if you still wish to go on after all I have explained and all I still have to explain to you.’

Did she wish to go on? She’d thought it would be so easy, seeing how easily he seemed to make money. Now, listening to him, she realized what a huge venture she was taking on. What did she think she was doing, she a woman, trying to invade a man’s world?

Yet seeking any other way to find enough money for an investigator to trace her baby, with James seeming so reluctant to help, was impossible. It was a mystery why he was so ready to grant her wish in this venture when he denied her the opportunity to find her child. Well, now she’d do it on her own.

And so she began to cut her teeth on the mysteries of stocks and shares, listening to James, acting on his advice, slowly learning as the months crept towards Christmas, ever fearful of making a wrong judgement as James had warned could happen to anyone and lose what she’d reaped; her rewards were modest but growing steadily. So far she had been fortunate.

Practically dedicating himself to the task, advising, warning against this or that move, he was at times almost overcautious, behaving as though it was all too much for someone like her to get her head around, causing her to resent the implication that it was because she was a woman. In a way he was right as she fought with the seemingly endless aspects of the money market. But as the months went by she was slowly growing more conversant with it all so that by Christmas she found herself needing James’s routine advice less and less, although his expert advice was still worth listening to.

She’d discovered that she had a flare for it, a sixth sense that seldom led her astray. She had begun too to notice that while he’d congratulate her on her cunning he seemed to attribute it more to luck than judgement, as if a woman shouldn’t be deemed capable of calm judgement. It nettled, but her purpose was of greater importance than getting riled by his attitude, every small success put by with the purpose of accruing enough to hire herself an investigator to find her baby. She was aware that after all this time it could be a lengthy business but was determined that James’s attitude was not going to stand in her way.

Neither had she revealed anything of her plan to Anthony; hadn’t even told him she was dabbling on the Stock Exchange. Theirs was another world when they were together. Nothing should spoil that. So long as she didn’t fret on how long the search for her baby might take, life was sublime every minute she was with him. She prayed constantly that it would never end.

Then, just after Christmas James fell ill with pneumonia, and knowing her place had to be with James, her time with Anthony had to be curtailed.

‘It’s only until he recovers,’ she told Anthony but he wasn’t happy.

‘And how long is that going to take,’ he returned peevishly. ‘I need you.’

‘He probably needs me more,’ she shot back at him a little sharper than she meant to. ‘He
is
my husband and a wife’s place is by her husband’s side if he’s ill. I
want
to be with you, darling, more than anything, but what can I do?’

She was worried for James but at the same time angry that his health was interfering with her and his nephew’s time together. There was a small voice inside her head which insisted that if pneumonia should chance to end James’s life, she’d be free to marry Anthony. Though she fought hard to push such wicked thoughts away they persisted. But as winter faded and James recovered, she found herself deeply relieved – not because he’d survived, but more that she would have been assailed by such a terrible sense of guilt if he hadn’t, almost as if the thought itself would have caused him to die.

Although he had recovered, it wasn’t the same any more. Illness had left his chest so weak that even the warmer months of early spring didn’t seem to help his improvement. There were frequent bouts of bronchitis, their doctor now a frequent visitor, and with James needing specialized care, a nurse was procured. It all put a stop to most of her social arrangements, especially those parties she was known for, as James needed peace and quiet.