The Amber Keeper (16 page)

Abbie successfully managed to persuade the bank manager to extend the overdraft, if not by quite as much as she’d hoped.
Nothing
further had been said by her father about selling the business, but Abbie had decided it was time to approach the subject. One evening, having read Aimée a few pages from
The Cat in the Hat
, delighting in hearing her daughter recite some of her favourite phrases, she tucked her into bed and gave her a kiss, then went in search of her father to try one more time to gain his support. She found him, as expected, in the library, where he often retired at this time of night to read the paper.

Giving a quick tap on the door she pushed it open without waiting for a response. ‘Hi Dad, can I have a quick word?’

Setting the paper aside with some reluctance, he nodded. Abbie pulled up a chair then placed the butterfly purse gently on his lap. ‘I made that the other day. Mum used to make stuff like this, remember? So I thought I’d have a go too. What do you think?’

He stared at it, his expression pained as if he couldn’t bear to be reminded of happier times, then quietly he handed it back. ‘If you think making a few evening purses will get the business out of trouble you’re living in cloud-cuckoo land.’

‘I have other plans as well, if you’d like to hear them, such as stocking local jewellery and making some of my own.’

‘But do you have any money to invest in it?’

‘Not at present, no, but . . .’

‘Well then, why risk further debts? We have enough of those already, largely because of that dratted business.’

Knowing her father’s anger was largely born of his loss didn’t make it any easier to deal with. ‘Yes, but
why
?’ she softly asked. ‘Where have all these alleged debts come from?’

‘Does it matter? Life. Eating. Living. Paying for the upkeep of this grand house. What’s important is that the shop failed to deliver so it must go,
otherwise we’ll lose everything.
You cannot deny reality.’

Abbie felt a deep nostalgia for those long-ago days when she’d been able to turn to her father, certain of his loving support. Now she lived in hope that she could win him round through effort and ultimate success. ‘Look, it’s almost the start of the tourist season and Carreckwater, like Ambleside and Windermere, is becoming increasingly busy. Please allow me at least the summer to prove myself before you make the decision to sell.’

He met her gaze unflinching. ‘Robert is the accountant in this family and he believes selling that property is the only sensible solution.’ Tom Myers rubbed a weary hand over his face. ‘We have no choice in the matter if we are to save Carreck Place. Even if we don’t actually own the house, we still need to maintain it for as long as we’re allowed to live here.’

‘I’m sure he exaggerates the problem, and there must be other options.’

‘I’m sorry if this is causing you anguish, but you’d be far better off finding yourself a proper job.’

Abbie gasped. ‘The jewellery shop
is
a proper job, and with good prospects.’

‘In what respect? If your mother couldn’t make it pay, why do you imagine you can?’

‘Mum had grown weary of the business for some reason, but I’m young and enthusiastic, and I believe I have the energy and talent to succeed.’

He almost smiled at that. ‘I admire your spirit, Abigail, but I’m not sure you’ve earned the right.’

She gave a brittle little laugh. ‘For goodness sake, you can’t keep on punishing me forever. I’m still your daughter, and if you do still love me . . .’

‘Of course I do, haven’t I said as much?

Taking his large square hand between her own she gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘Then prove it. Please Pops, give me a chance. I love you too, and want so much to make you proud of me again, as well as do right by my own daughter.’

Tears filled his eyes as his gaze softened, but it took a while before the answer came. ‘Very well, you have the summer to give these plans of yours a try.’

SIXTEEN

T
he next weeks flew by in a whirl of hard work and optimism. She spent hours every evening studying sales figures, worrying over what she dare risk buying as she juggled payments so as not to go over the agreed limit. Abbie and Linda completely reorganised the layout of the shop, setting the counters along each side instead of the previous somewhat haphazard approach which had just looked cluttered. Display cabinets and the two shop windows were completely transformed, given a far more exciting and modern appearance, each one themed by colour, style or content.

One whole section of a wall was lined with rails upon which were displayed a range of fun and funky fashion jewellery: ceramic poodle and peacock pendants, bunny rabbit and owl brooches, and butterfly, daisy and pansy earrings in tangerine, shocking pink, lemon yellow and lime green. Not only would they be certain to appeal to the summer visitors, but brighten the entire shop.

‘And sales are up,’ Abbie announced to Linda on a whoop of joy. ‘Maybe we’re on the right track at last.’

‘You’ve performed wonders in just a few weeks.’

‘I’d love to buy in some Greek and Indian, Art Nouveau and stained glass jewellery which is becoming fashionable, but I have to be a bit cautious not to buy too much at once.’

‘Quite right. You don’t want to take any unnecessary risks. Let’s hope for a busy summer. Oh, and I sold another evening purse today. They’re proving to be quite popular and selling steadily.’

‘Excellent!’ They would need a good tourist season if they were to have any chance of saving the business, but they’d made a good start. Abbie was thrilled with progress so far. Everything was going smoothly at last. Aimée had settled into her new school, taken there each day with Cousin Jonathon either by herself or Aunty Fay. Abbie had recently installed a small black and white TV in the stockroom where the two children would happily watch
Noggin the Nog
or
Blue Peter
if she needed to work a little later, although she always made sure they were home by five.

This was her day for the school run and she was carefully keeping an eye on the clock as she worked on a new design. Abbie was using a template to apply gold leaf to a piece of black silk, which she hoped to make up into a beautiful clutch purse, when there came a tap on the door.

As Linda never troubled to knock, she leaped from her stool, thinking she’d forgotten the time and it must be Joan Sanderson. Aimée’s teacher had brought her daughter once before when Abbie was held up by a customer on Linda’s day off. She was very kind and helpful in that respect, and was becoming quite a good friend. But on opening the door she came face to face with a stranger, a man in his late twenties or early thirties, looking decidedly hassled.

‘Hi, sorry I’m late. I know the appointment was for two o’clock but I got held up by traffic. Andrew Baxter.’

Abbie politely shook the proffered hand, frowning in puzzlement. ‘What appointment would that be, exactly? I haven’t the first idea what you’re talking about.’

He gave a grunt of annoyance. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. Are you saying Elaine didn’t let you know I was coming?’

‘Elaine?’

‘The agent,’ he answered impatiently, as if he really shouldn’t need to explain.

Abbie considered this in thoughtful silence for some seconds. The man, she noticed, was tall, lean but muscular, with cropped dark brown hair rather spikily cut, piercing grey eyes, angular chin and a wide mouth that wasn’t doing much smiling right now. ‘Would that be the estate agent just along the road here?’

‘For someone wishing to sell their business, you don’t seem to be quite up to speed,’ he commented, rather caustically in Abbie’s opinion.

Only the slight raising of her eyebrows revealed her irritation. ‘That might be because it isn’t for sale.’

He glared at her, eyes darkening like storm clouds. ‘What are you saying ‒ that you’ve taken it off the market, that I’ve wasted my time driving all this way from Dumfries for no reason?’

Abbie tried a smile, hoping to soothe his growing temper. ‘Actually, it was never on the market, not so far as I was concerned, although my brother might believe otherwise.’

‘So this is a family feud?’

‘You could call it that. I recommend you vent your wrath upon him. But do please come in and I’ll put the kettle on. You must be worn out after such a long journey.’

‘I don’t have time for tea parties. Is this shop for sale or not?’

‘Not,’ she said, again attempting an apologetic little smile. It didn’t work.

‘Well, thanks for nothing,’ he roared as he stormed out,
slamming
the door behind him.

‘Goodness,’ Linda said. ‘And which northeast wind blew
him in?’

‘A Scottish one. Well, Elaine the estate agent, apparently, thanks to my brother. To be fair, he has driven a long way for no reason, as he was at pains to point out. Robert neglected to inform me that he’d put the shop on the market, despite Dad’s agreement to allow me the summer to prove myself, let alone that someone was actually coming to view it.’ She gave a little sigh, as if trying to calm her own temper. ‘Believe me, he won’t get away with it. I shall call on Elaine the estate agent right now, before I pick up Aimée, and make sure we don’t have any more unpleasant viewers barging in.’

Linda went to the door to look down the road. ‘I think he’s gone in the Ring of Bells for a consoling drink.’ Then turning to Abbie with a teasing smile in her eyes, she said. ‘He was rather good-looking, though, wasn’t he?’

Abbie blinked, then laughed. ‘Absolutely gorgeous.’

That evening Abbie went at once to speak to her father, briefly explaining what had happened. His response was not encouraging. ‘I very much doubt the property will sell quickly, so there’s nothing lost in putting it on the market.’

‘But I thought we had an agreement. So why is Robert being allowed to undermine my efforts, and without any discussion with me? You know full well I’ve been working my socks off these last weeks trying to get the business back on track, with some success, by the way.’

‘Go back to your job in Paris, Abbie.’ Her brother’s voice from the door brought her swirling about, fresh anger erupting inside.

‘Don’t you
ever
presume to tell me what to do, or send prospective buyers round without telling me.’

‘The house is far more important, even if we don’t actually own it, which I’ll admit came as something of a shock. However, we are apparently entitled to live out our lives here, which I fully intend to do. My family surely has that right.’

Tom gazed thoughtfully upon his son, as if for the first time beginning to question his motivation. ‘Actually, it was your mother who had the right to spend her entire life here. I didn’t know that myself until I read it in her will. Whether or not that right automatically passes on to any of us is the point in question, for which I don’t yet have a clear answer.’

‘Why would we not? Who is there to object?’

‘Since I don’t know who granted her that right, I really couldn’t say, although I did receive a letter from someone laying claim to the house.’

‘Who the hell was that?’

‘No idea. Not only did I not recognise the name, I couldn’t even read it. It was simply a blurred scribble.’

Robert was instantly suspicious. ‘Ah, someone trying it on, some fraudster or other.’

Tom frowned, ‘You could well be right.’

Abbie wondered how a supposed fraudster could have learned that Carreck Place was not actually theirs, but more important issues were concerning her right then. ‘Nor do you have the right to put the shop on the market when I’ve been granted this summer to make it work,’ she quietly but firmly pointed out.

Robert’s response was to give a snort of derision. ‘You’re wasting your time. Even if you had the brains to operate a business it would not resolve the problem.’ His condescending attitude enraged her all the more.

Her father said nothing, his expression having gone quite blank, no doubt once more locked in his own grief. Abbie lowered her voice to a hiss, anxious not to upset him further yet quite unable to let the matter drop so far as her brother was concerned. ‘If you think you can destroy my efforts as well as blame me for Mum’s death, do not for one moment expect me to roll over and helplessly submit. I’m a grown woman now with a mind of my own and you can rest assured I’ll fight you every inch of the way.’

Having issued this bitter remark, which hurt her almost as much as it did Robert, judging by the wide-eyed shock on his face, she walked out of the room straight into Fay, who had clearly heard everything as she hovered outside. Her sister-in-law at once took Abbie into her arms. ‘Don’t be upset. I’m sure he doesn’t mean to sound so unfeeling.’

‘But he won’t even give me a chance.’

‘Robert’s really worried about the financial situation; that’s all it is. I’ll speak to him, I promise. I’ll persuade him to cool it and give you some time.’

‘Thanks. I’d appreciate that,’ said Abbie, and the two women exchanged another hug, even as the rumble of angry voices started up again in the library.

Unable to face further dispute that evening, Abbie arranged supper for herself and Aimée to be taken in her own room up in the attics. That was obviously where she belonged, with her views of no more value than those of the servants who used to occupy these quarters, of which apparently her grandmother had been one. She knew deep inside that the courage to stand up to her brother had come from hearing Millie’s story. If a nursemaid could face a revolution and end up owning a house like this, surely she too could achieve something worthwhile.

After a largely sleepless night, as soon as Abbie had delivered Aimée to school the next morning she called in at Kirkby’s, the family solicitor, to make an appointment for later that morning. If she had a battle on her hands, then she would need all the help she could get to fight it.

When finally she arrived at the shop, a few minutes after nine o’clock, she was met at the door by Linda, smiling and winking at her in an odd sort of way.

‘He’s back.’

‘Sorry, who’s back?’ Her mind still on the family row, and what she needed to ask the solicitor, Abbie wasn’t picking up the blatant hints Linda was giving her.

‘The would-be buyer, Andrew Baxter. He’s waiting for you in the office.’

‘Is he indeed? We’ll see about that,’ said Abbie and, metaphorically rolling up her sleeves, she marched into the back where she found the man strolling about the stockroom as if he owned the place, or soon intended to.

‘If you were hoping that I’d changed my mind, then you couldn’t be more wrong.’

He turned towards her to offer the ghost of a smile. ‘Ah, Miss Myers, I assure you I’ve called only to apologise for my rudeness yesterday.’

She’d quite forgotten how incredibly handsome he was, and for a moment found herself mesmerised by the softness of his grey eyes, which seemed entirely sincere. This morning he was wearing a navy blazer and grey slacks; there was a slight stubble on his chin which seemed to add to his attractiveness. It was a long time since a man had left her tongue-tied ‒ since that day she’d first met Eduard. Closing her mind to the thought, and reminding herself she was no longer a naïve young girl, she tartly remarked, ‘How very generous of you. But as I explained yesterday, this shop is not for sale, nor will it ever be if I have any say in the matter.’ Although right now, she seemed to have none at all, so how did she manage to sound so positive?

‘In my defence I would say that I’ve had rather a difficult time in recent months with one thing and another, and my patience is at a low ebb.’

‘As well as suffering from a long, tiring drive.’

‘Indeed.’

She looked at him more carefully, noticing for the first time the shadows beneath his eyes indicating a lack of sleep, and the cheekbones that were perhaps rather too prominent, as if eating had also been an issue. Maybe he too had problems, as did everybody, she supposed, and was surprised to find herself experiencing a touch of sympathy for the man. ‘Apology accepted. Would you like that tea now, or do you prefer coffee?’