The Caxley Chronicles (43 page)

He looked white and bewildered, and rubbed his forehead as he always did when perplexed.

'Not more bad news?' cried Maisie.

'No. Not really. I suppose one should say quite the opposite—but the hell of a shock.'

He handed her the letter and paced the room while she read it.

'He's left you
everything?'
queried Maisie in a whisper. 'But what about Aunt Kathy and your father and the other grandchildren? I don't understand it.'

'They're all provided for—except for my father, which one would expect—by incredibly large sums of money. But the two businesses are for me, evidently.'

'Didn't he ever mention this to you?'

'Never. It honestly never entered my head. It's amazingly generous, but a terrific responsibility. I thought everything would be Aunt Kathy's, with perhaps a few bequests to the others. He'd already given me the house above the restaurant. This is staggering.'

'But lovely,' exclaimed Maisie. 'Dear Sep! He always wanted you in the market square.'

Edward paused in his pacing and looked at her in astonishment.

'Do you seriously suggest that I should run the business myself? I don't know the first thing about baking—or catering for that matter.'

'You could learn,' pointed out Maisie. 'And running one business must be very like running another. And just think—to live in Caxley!' Her eyes were bright.

Edward continued to look distracted. His eye caught sight of the time and he gave a cry of dismay.

'I must be off. This will need a lot of thought. Lovejoy wants to see me anyway to sign some papers. We'll talk this over this evening, and go down again this weekend.'

'Don't look so worried,' comforted Maisie. 'Anyone would think you'd been sentenced to death! In fact you've been sentenced to a new life.'

'Not so fast, please,' begged Edward, collecting his belongings frenziedly. 'There's a great deal to consider—Sep's wishes, the family's reactions, whether we can cope with the business ourselves or get people in to manage it properly—a hundred problems! And what about my job here? I can't let Jim down after all he's done for me.'

Maisie pushed her agitated husband through the front door.

'Tell Jim what's happened,' she said soothingly. 'And calm down. I'm going back to celebrate in a second cup of coffee.'

The day seemed to drag by very slowly for Maisie. There was no school for her that morning, and although she was glad to have some time to collect her thoughts, she longed for Edward to return so that they could discuss this miraculous news.

For her own part she welcomed a return to Caxley. To live in the market square, either in Edward's house or in Sep's, would give her enormous pleasure. Her friends were there, and the thought of living so near all her in-laws, which might daunt many young wives, did not worry Maisie who had known the Howards and Norths now for so many years. She longed too to have a sizeable house to furnish and decorate. Here, in the tiny flat, she had found small scope for her talents. It would be lovely to choose curtains and wall-paper and to bring either of the two fine old houses to life again.

And what better place to raise a Howard family than in the heart of Caxley where their roots ran so deeply? This would mean too the end of the fruitless house-hunting which depressed them both. As she went mechanically about her household tasks, Maisie hoped desperately that Edward would be able to wind up the job satisfactorily here, and return to
Caxley with a clear conscience and zest for what lay ahead.

Edward returned, looking less agitated than when he had departed for the office that morning.

'Jim is as pleased as if it had happened to him,' said he. 'We've gone into things as thoroughly as we can at this stage. He's quite happy for me to go whenever I like, but we've all sorts of negotiations going on at the moment, started by me mainly, and I must see those wound up before I'd feel free.'

'And when would that be?'

'I can't say. Probably in a few months' time.'

'A few
months
!' echoed Maisie, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice.

Edward looked across at her and laughed.

'You want to go back very badly, don't you?'

Maisie nodded.

'I'm beginning to think that I do, too, but I must clear up things at this end first. We'll see what Lovejoy says at the weekend, and how the family feels. Who knows? We may be back in the market square by the New Year. That is if I've mastered the bakery business by that time!'

As they drove to Caxley that weekend, Edward had some private misgivings. How would Aunt Kathy feel about the will? She had taken an active part in the business, and it seemed hard that no share in it had been left to her. It was true that Sep's bequest to her and her children had been characteristically generous, and of a magnitude which staggered Edward, but it was not quite the same as having a part in a thriving concern. And how would the rest of the family view his amazing good
fortune? Edward had seen many united families rent asunder by wills, and could only hope that the Howards and Norths would be spared this ignominy. He approached Caxley with some trepidation.

His mother and grandmother greeted them with unfeigned delight.

'Which house will you settle in, dear?' asked Mrs North with the shattering directness of old age. She refused to believe that Edward did not know yet if he would be able to return to Caxley at all.

'But you must have known, dear, that Sep intended you to have the business?'

'I hadn't a clue, grandma, and that's the plain truth.'

'Neither had I,' said his mother.

'Well, he spoke to me about it, towards the end,' maintained Mrs North trenchantly, 'and I agreed that it was an excellent idea.'

'Grandma, you are incorrigible!' exclaimed Edward, amused.

'It's high time you came back anyway, to look after your mother and me. And what about your own family? Married for nearly a year and no baby on the way! It's deplorable! What you need is some invigorating Caxley air.'

Edward and Maisie exchanged delighted glances.

'Yes, grandma,' said Edward meekly.

He walked up the familiar path to Bertie and Kathy's house with a nervousness he had never felt before. Kathy opened the door to him, put her arms round his neck, and kissed him
soundly. All Edward's worries fled in the face of this warm embrace.

'We're all very pleased about it,' Bertie assured him, when they were settled by the fire. 'Although Sep never said a word about his settlements we guessed that this would be the way he wanted it.'

'Would you come in with me as a partner?' asked Edward of his aunt. She smiled and shook her head.

'You're a dear to think of it, but I'm fifty-six next birthday and shall be quite glad to be away from it all. Father's left us money, as you know, and I'm glad the business is yours—still in the family, with "Howard" over the door—but not giving me any more worries.'

They talked of Edward's plans, and he explained the necessity of staying in town to clear up his affairs at the factory.

'And I'm still not absolutely sure if I ought to come back to run the shop and restaurant myself, or whether I should try and get someone to manage them.'

'John Bush and I can hold the fort until you decide,' offered Kathy. 'But
please
think about taking it on yourself. You could do it easily, and think how pleased Sep would have been.'

'And Maisie will be,' added Bertie. 'Off you go to your appointment with Lovejoy! See what he advises.'

Mr Lovejoy, pink and voluble, succeeded in confusing Edward even more, by presenting him with a host of incomprehensible documents to peruse, and a torrent of explanation.

From amidst the chaos one thing emerged clearly to Edward. He was going to be a man of some wealth. Death duties would
amount to a considerable sum, but if the business continued at its present rate he could expect an income far in excess of that which he now earned. He had no doubt, in his own mind, that with some rebuilding and more modern equipment, the two businesses could become even more lucrative.

He thanked Mr Lovejoy for his help and emerged into the pale October sunlight. Hardly knowing what he was about, he passed Howard's Restaurant and crossed to Sep's old shop. It was strange to think that all this now belonged to him.

He stepped into the shop in a daze. A young new assistant, unknown to him, asked him what he would like. Edward tried to pull himself together.

'Oh, a loaf,' he said desperately. 'Just a loaf.'

She picked out a stout crusty cottage loaf from the window, shrouded it in a piece of white tissue paper, and thrust it into his arms like a warm baby.

Edward gave her a florin, and she slapped some coins into his palm in return. He studied them with interest. It was time he knew the price of bread.

Still bemused, and clutching his awkward burden, he made his way towards the Cax. What had possessed him to buy a loaf, he wondered, exasperation overcoming his numbness!

He strode now with more purpose towards the tow path. The families of mallards and moorhens paddled busily at the edge of the water, as they had always done. Today, thought Edward, they should celebrate his inheritance.

He broke pieces of the loaf and threw them joyfully upon the Cax. Squawking, quacking, piping, the birds rushed this way and that, wings flapping, streaking the water with their bright feet, as they fought for this largesse.

Exhilarated, Edward tossed the pieces this way and that, laughing at the birds' antics and his own incredible good fortune. What was it that the Scriptures said about 'casting thy bread upon the waters'? He would ask Grandma North when he returned.

He thrust the last delicious morsel into his mouth, dusted his hands, and walked home, whistling.

T
HE FIRST
frosts of autumn blackened the bright dahlias in the suburban gardens and began to strip the golden trees. Children were scuffling through the carpet of dead leaves as Edward drove to the factory one morning.

In his pocket lay a letter from his father. It was the first communication he had ever received from him, and it provided food for thought.

He studied it again in the privacy of his office. It was written on cheap ruled paper, but the writing was clear and well-formed. It had come from an address in Lincolnshire, and said:

'My dear Edward,

Thank you for writing to tell me of the death of your grandfather.

To be frank, I had already seen a notice of it in
The Caxley Chronicle
which has been sent to me ever since I left the town.

I could not have attended the funeral, even if I had wished to do so, as the expense of the fare to Caxley made the trip impossible. I live alone here, in very straitened circumstances, my second wife having died two years ago.

I should very much like to see your mother again and, of course, you too, but I shall understand if it is not convenient.
The contents of your grandfather's will are unknown to me, but I take it that he was stubbornly against me to the end.

Affectionately,
Leslie Howard'

It was pretty plain, thought Edward, from the letter before him, that his father was as bitter as ever against Sep. Not once did he speak of him as 'my father'—but as 'your grandfather', and the final reference to the will disclosed a disappointed man. Nevertheless, Edward experienced a strong feeling of mingled pity and curiosity. His father must be getting on in years. He was certainly older than Uncle Bertie, and must now be approaching sixty. He sounded lonely too, as well as hard up.

He began to wonder how he lived. There had been two children by the second marriage, as far as he remembered. Was he perhaps living with one of them in Lincolnshire? He felt fairly certain that his mother would not wish to meet his father again, but he himself was suddenly drawn to the idea of seeing him. He turned the notion over in his mind, deciding not to do anything precipitous which might upset the family.

At the weekend, when he went once more to Caxley, he showed his mother the letter when they were alone. The vehemence of her reaction astonished him.

'He wrote to me at much the same time,' she told Edward, her face working. 'I tore up the letter. He's hurt me too much in the past, Edward. If anything, the bitterness has grown with the years. I wouldn't lift a finger to help him. He treated us all abominably, and if it hadn't been for his own father we should have been very hard up indeed. And now he has the nerve to
approach us and—more than that—to expect money from Sep! The whole thing is despicable.'

It was obviously not the moment to tell his mother that he felt like visiting his father; but before he and Maisie left for home he broached the subject tentatively. He had already told Kathy and Bertie about Leslie's letter, and about the possibility of travelling to Lincoln to see how his father fared. They had both been sympathetic towards Edward's project, but had no desire to meet Leslie themselves.

'He's a charmer—or was—' said Bertie plainly, 'and a sponger. So be warned, my boy. And if your mother objects, I advise you to chuck up the idea. No point in opening old wounds.'

'I see that well enough,' responded Edward. 'But I don't like to think of him in want, when Sep has left us all so comfortably off.'

'Your feelings do you credit,' replied Bertie, 'but don't let yourself in for embarrassment in the future. Leslie might well have developed into an old-man-of-the-sea, always demanding more and more.'

As his nephew vanished up the lane to the High Street, Kathy looked at Bertie.

'Will he really go, do you think?'

'He'll go,' said Bertie. 'He feels it's his duty. He's Sep all over again when it comes to it—and the sooner we all realise it, the better.'

Luckily, Winnie's reactions to Edward's proposal were less violent than he had imagined.

'I can understand that you want to see him,' she said, rather wearily. 'He is your father after all. But I absolutely refuse to
have any more to do with him. And nothing of this is to be mentioned to Grandma. She is too old for this sort of shock.'