Megan of Merseyside (31 page)

‘Yes. We will both be at home for the next few weeks,’ Megan said quickly, looking across at her father.

‘Megan’s right, Doctor,’ agreed Watkin dourly. ‘We’ll be here to look after her.’

‘Good! I’ll call in every two or three days.’ He handed Watkin a prescription. ‘These tablets will help to calm her. If you have any further problems get in touch with me.’

When he reached the door he paused and looked at them both from over the top of his glasses. ‘She may say a lot of things you find very hurtful, things dredged up from the past that you may have thought long forgotten. Cleansing the mind is all part of the therapy. It can provide clues as to the problem that has caused her present condition. Try not to let it upset you too much, I don’t want any more cases of depression.’

‘Perhaps we should have had her taken into hospital,’ Watkin Williams muttered after the doctor had left.

‘Nonsense, Dad. We can look after her. She’s better off at home.’

‘I hope you’re right. I feel it’s too much to expect of you, though, Megan. I … I don’t want you hurt again.’

‘I won’t be, I promise you.’ Gently she kissed his cheek. ‘Over the last few days we’ve found out what Mam thinks about both of us. I don’t think there are any more skeletons left hidden in the cupboard,’ she added ruefully.

‘Let’s hope you’re right.’ He sighed deeply and
Megan’s
heart ached to see how thin and ill he looked.

‘We’ll have Mam back on her feet in no time,’ she vowed cheerfully. ‘Everything will work out all right, you’ll see. It’s going to be a new start all round,’ she promised confidently.

Chapter Thirty-one

‘SOMETHING WRONG?’ ASKED
Watkin as Megan came back into the sitting room looking white and shaken. ‘Who was that on the phone?’

‘A Mr Ramton. He’s the Walkers’ solicitor.’

Watkin frowned. ‘What did he want? They’re not still trying to prosecute me over the fire, are they?’

‘No, no, Dad, it’s nothing to do with that.’ Megan shook her head emphatically.

‘Well, what is it, then? More trouble? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘A cloud not a ghost!’ She gave a wry laugh. ‘Mr Ramton says that Mr Walker has left me his Silver Cloud.’

‘You mean his Rolls Royce!’ Her father stared at her in disbelief. ‘What on earth made him do that?’

‘I don’t know!’ She pushed her hair back from her forehead in a bewildered way. ‘He did once remark that my initials were on the number plate. He made a sort of joke about it when I was driving him to Wales. They were his initials, too, of course,’ she added quickly.

‘And Miles Walker’s!’ her father reminded her. ‘That car is a status symbol! I’ve often heard men down at the docks say how proud old Walker was of it. He even had his own special parking spot
with
the registration number written in white paint on the ground to make sure no other car was left there by mistake.’

‘The only other person permitted to drive the Rolls was Miles, and he wasn’t allowed behind the wheel all that often,’ murmured Megan. ‘So why has he left it to me?’

‘Someone once told me that, when he first had it, old Walker would hire a taxi if it was raining rather than get the Rolls wet. I can’t see Miles letting you get away with this one,’ mused Watkin, shaking his head.

Miles wasted no time in phoning Megan about the Rolls. ‘You don’t intend accepting it, I hope?’ he said abruptly.

‘Why ever not? It would be ungrateful to turn it down.’

‘Cut the nonsense, Megan. That car is our company status symbol and I intend to keep it. Anyway, what would you do with an expensive car like that? You couldn’t possibly afford to keep it on the road. It drinks petrol!’

‘I must keep it … it’s a gift … from your father,’ she reminded him.

‘Have you any idea what it costs to have it serviced?’ he went on relentlessly.

‘Not yet. I haven’t gone into such details.’

‘It would take at least three months’ wages … that’s if you were working. Look,’ he snapped angrily, ‘I’m willing to buy it back from you. I’ll pay the full market value for it.’

‘I don’t intend to sell it.’

‘Megan, it belongs to the company …’

‘It did. It doesn’t now,’ she pointed out determinedly.

‘I can see it’s pointless trying to discuss this with you,’ Miles snapped. ‘Think about it and phone me when you are ready to sell. I’ll wait a week and if you haven’t contacted me by then I’ll take you to court. I want that car and I intend to have it … one way or the other. If I have to go to court, I’ll make sure the whole world knows exactly what sort of person you are. After I’ve told them about our affair, they’ll be able to put two and two together. They’ll realise how you made up to my father and tricked him into leaving you the Rolls.’

‘You would lie in court to get your own way?’

His cynical laugh still echoed in her ears long after she had slammed the receiver down.

The more Megan thought about it the more frightened she became that Miles might carry out his threat. It was not the loss of the Rolls that worried her, but that the slur on her character would have a devastating effect on her mother.

The feelings she had once held for Miles were now completely dead. She felt so nervy and edgy, though, that it took her all her time not to lose patience with her mother or snap at her father. Finally, she was in such a quandary about what to do that in sheer desperation she turned to Robert, feeling that he was the only person whose advice she could trust.

They met in the lounge bar at The Nelson. His momentary look of surprise when she told him she had been left the Rolls was replaced by a frown when she told him how Miles had reacted.

‘I don’t know what to do.’ She sighed heavily. ‘It’s a wonderful car, but I suppose Miles is quite right, I can’t afford to run it.’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘I haven’t even got a job at the moment.’

‘If you don’t let him have the Rolls he will take you to court, you know,’ warned Robert. ‘What’s more, he’ll certainly carry out his threat to try and blacken your character.’

‘You think he would go that far, even though it would reflect on him?’

‘It’s different for a man. Nice girls don’t sleep around.’

‘What do you mean by sleep around?’ exploded Megan. ‘There has only ever been Miles.’

‘I know that, but try convincing other people. The way Miles will tell the story he’ll make it sound quite different.’

‘You believe me, though, Robert?’

‘Of course I do!’ As their eyes met, he looked away quickly. ‘Another drink?’ As if to break the spell, he stood up and picked up their empty glasses.

As she watched Robert walk over to the bar she thought what a wonderful friend he was. No matter what problem she had, he was always willing to help her to solve it. And invariably she found herself taking his advice because it was so sound.

The fact that he seemed to think Miles would not only be prepared to go to court over the car, but that he would be willing to make public every detail of their relationship, worried her more than she cared to admit.

‘Apart from how much it might distress your
mother
, Miles’ revelations could seriously affect your career prospects, you know,’ Robert commented when he returned with their drinks. ‘Once the story has been plastered over the
Liverpool Echo
, and possibly in some of the national dailies, your new boss will think you fair game! If you disappoint him then you’ll probably be out on your neck pretty quick.’

‘You mean someone might hire me because of that rather than because I’m a competent secretary!’ she exclaimed, colour staining her cheeks.

‘It’s still a man’s world, Megan.’

‘And women play right into their hands,’ Megan said bitterly. ‘They mollycoddle them at home and pander to them at work. Being a secretary is a cross between being a wife and being a nanny.’

‘Always playing the support role, but never the boss!’ Robert laughed grimly.

Megan sat bolt upright. Never the boss! Why not be the boss? she asked herself. Why not have a company of her own? She had plenty of knowledge about import and export, organising freight, storing cargo and dealing with customs regulations.

She turned to Robert, her eyes bright with excitement. He listened in thoughtful silence. By the time she stopped expounding her plans he seemed to be almost as enthusiastic as she was. When she paused for breath, he began enlarging on the ideas she had already put forward.

‘You’ll have to clear up this mess with Miles Walker first, though,’ Robert reminded her. ‘I’d approach him face to face and try to come to some sort of amicable arrangement, if that is possible. He’s offered to buy the Rolls, so that could provide
you
with some capital to start your business,’ he pointed out. ‘Would you like me to speak to him for you, Megan?’

‘No!’ She placed her hand on his arm to soften the forcefulness of her reply. ‘It’s something I’ve got to do myself,’ she explained.

‘You’d better have the Rolls valued before you go to see him so that you ask the right price for it.’

‘I’ve got an even better idea,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘I’ll ask him to swop the Rolls for one of the lorries!’

Miles smirked with pleasure when Megan presented herself at his office next day.

‘I’ve come to talk terms,’ she said stiffly.

‘I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. The old man must have been out of his mind when he put that in his will,’ Miles said dismissively.

‘Yes, as you said it is one of the company’s status symbols. Especially with its personalised number plates!’

‘So you’re prepared to hand it back.’

‘Oh, no! It’s not going to be quite that simple, Miles,’ she told him coolly.

His eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened. ‘You mean you want the market price,’ he sneered as he pulled out a cheque book and unscrewed the top of his fountain pen.

‘There’s no need for that.’ Megan held up her hand before Miles could start to write. ‘I want to do a deal. I’ll give you back the Rolls in exchange for two of your lorries. I’ll take the new Commer and the Bedford …’

‘Sod that!’ he exploded. ‘Do you know how much they cost? They’re the newest ones in our fleet.’

‘Well, I don’t want the old clapped out ones, now, do I?’ She smiled sweetly.

‘Why do you want lorries in exchange for the Rolls anyway?’ Miles asked in amazement. ‘You must be mad!’

She stood up and began to move towards the door. ‘That’s the deal or I keep the Rolls.’

‘Why do you want the lorries?’

Megan’s eyes narrowed and for a moment she thought of ignoring his question. ‘I’m starting up in business for myself,’ she told him and her voice cracked like a whip in the silence.

Miles’ lip curled and he stared at her in disbelief. He was sure she was bluffing, but as their eyes locked he saw how determined she was.

‘You’ll never succeed, you know,’ he said scathingly. ‘You’re taking on a great deal more than you can cope with, Megan. They won’t give you the time of day down at the docks. No reputable company will entrust their cargoes to a woman.’

‘Really! You mean it’s a man’s world? They’re happy enough to let a woman type the invoices, fill in all the forms and organise everything from the office.’

The scorn in her voice startled him. He had never thought of it like that before and grudgingly he had to admit to himself that she was right.

‘I suppose you are going to try and pinch all our best customers,’ he sneered.

‘I hadn’t thought of doing so, but it is quite a
good
idea,’ Megan countered as she moved back towards his desk. ‘Are we agreed, then? You’ll give me the two lorries in settlement for the Rolls.’

‘Not those two. There’s a Morris and a Ford you can have instead.’

‘They’re ready for the scrap yard and you know it. The Morris was involved in a smash the year I joined the company and it’s been a problem ever since.’

The deadlock seemed unsurpassable. For another twenty minutes they argued. Megan stuck to her ground. Where once she would have given way to male authority, now she was like a tiger fighting for its share of the kill. She refused to give an inch. It had to be the two vehicles she had stipulated and reluctantly Miles recognised this. Grudgingly, he gave in to her demands.

‘Whew!’ His old grin was back and for a moment Megan felt her heart thundering. Miles’ devastating charm, and animal magnetism, still had its effect on her. Then she steeled her mind, remembering the past and all the heartache he had already cost her.

‘Are we clear on all these points?’ she persisted, frowning down at the notebook in which she had listed the details of their transaction.

‘I’m not sure!’ He held out his hand. ‘Let me check it and make sure that you haven’t made any mistakes.’

With an inscrutable look she passed the notebook over to him, smiling to herself as she saw his puzzled frown as he stared uncomprehendingly at the shorthand hieroglyphics written there. He
looked
up at her questioningly, but she returned his gaze blankly.

Silently, Miles passed the notebook back to her and without a word she dropped it into her handbag. He found himself comparing her with his wife. A feeling of discontent swept through him. Memories of the ripe softness of Megan’s body, the sweetness of her lips, her compliant surrender as they’d consummated their love, filled his mind. It was never like that with Carol. She made love as if bestowing some tremendous favour.

He had found married life disappointing in other respects, too. Megan not only had a body made for loving, but she had a needle-sharp mind that he had found equally stimulating.

His father had recognised Megan’s business acumen and now she was no longer in the office Miles realised more and more how great an asset she had been. He wanted her back but it looked as if he had left it too late to ask her.

‘Right. I’m glad that’s settled,’ Megan told him. ‘You have the necessary papers drawn up and I’ll ask my solicitor to contact Mr Ramton. I’ll arrange for the lorries to be collected as soon as the legal formalities are completed,’ she said briskly. ‘I shall expect them to be in clean condition and intact,’ she added as a parting shot. ‘No removing spares, or any other tricks. Remember, I know everything about those vehicles.’