The Emerald Valley (81 page)

Beneath her embrace, Charlotte moved a trifle impatiently.

‘I suppose so. Well, yes, it's true – you ought to have a husband. But Mr Porter …'

‘Just so long as he's good to her, Lotty,' James put in. ‘That's all that really matters, isn't it?'

‘And he will be,' Amy said confidently. ‘Oh, I know he's got a reputation as a hard man, but he can be very kind. Don't you remember how he took us up to Dolly's the night Noël was born? And he bought back my ring from the jewellers …'

‘He did
what
?' Charlotte said sharply and Amy realised she had said too much. Mam did not know she had once had to sell Llew's engagement ring.

‘Oh, nothing. It was a long time ago,' she said hastily. ‘Now, I promise you I'm going to be happy. So will you please stop objecting and spoiling everything?'

Charlotte gave a quick impatient nod and Amy was surprised to see tears glistening in her mother's eyes.

‘Well, he wouldn't be my choice, but as your Dad says … as long as he's good to you …'

A week later Ralph was back from Gloucester and the arrangements for their future were some of the first subjects he raised when he and Amy were alone.

‘You realise there will have to be separations for a while at least, don't you? I can't turn over the Gloucester end of the business to anyone just at the moment. But what I intend to do is to set things up so that I can eventually supervise everything from here. It will mean a certain amount of travelling, but at least we shall be able to make this our home base.'

Amy smiled. ‘I was hoping you would say that.'

‘Well, I know you'll want to retain control of your businesses and it is important that the children should be unsettled as little as possible. Now – come here. I have something for you.'

‘For me?' She was as excited as a child and her pleasure thrilled him as he drew a small box from his pocket.

‘No prizes for guessing what it is.'

‘Well, it's certainly not an elephant!'

‘I said no prizes. Hold out your hand.'

‘Which one?' she teased.

‘You know damned well which one!' He took her left hand and spread it out on his knee. ‘Just one small problem, Amy. You're still wearing someone else's ring.'

Her face went sombre. Llew's wedding ring, which she had worn since the day he had placed it on her finger; somehow it had never occurred to her to take it off. Now she knew it was for her to do this – it was not something she could expect Ralph to do for her.

Without lifting her eyes she took hold of the ring and slipped it off. Momentarily sadness flooded her, but it was bitter-sweet and haunting, not sharply painful. Her finger looked unnaturally bare as she took the ring into her left hand and with some difficulty eased it on to the third finger of her right hand.

‘You don't mind if I wear it there?' she asked.

‘Of course not.'

He opened the small box and she saw the engagement ring he had bought her, a sapphire set in the centre of a cluster of diamonds.

‘Oh, Ralph!'

‘You like it?' He lifted her hand and put the ring on her finger.

‘It's beautiful! And it fits! How did you know … ?'

‘I checked your ring size a long time ago,' he said and she coloured slightly, remembering again her first engagement ring. Had Ralph decided so long ago that he wanted to marry her? How incredible it seemed now.

The ring sparkled and winked blue fire at her.

‘Sapphires – to match your eyes,' he said. ‘For a wedding present I shall buy you earrings to match, if you would like them. And a necklace for your birthday.'

‘Oh Ralph, you're spoiling me!'

‘Only because I want to. And because I think you deserve a little spoiling.'

Amy couldn't speak. She was too happy.

‘Now, we must make our plans,' he said.

The wedding was arranged for Easter Monday, less than a month away, and it was to take place in the parish church. Charlotte sniffed about this, too, when she heard; like most mining families, the Halls were chapel folk and always had been, and Charlotte felt that already Ralph was enticing Amy away from her roots. But Amy, too happy to snap at her mother, pointed out that since Charlotte was a less-than-regular worshipper, it was hypocritical of her to protest. Because of the shortage of time, it was decided a special licence would be safer than relying on the reading of banns, and so this was applied for.

The following Sunday, Ralph took Amy and the children out to lunch at a hotel in Wells – ‘to give them a chance to get to know me,' he said, and Amy was delighted by the instant rapport that was established between them. Maureen was coy and, after being persuaded to drink two glasses of ‘fizzy-pop'between courses, very giggly; Barbara flirted shamelessly, sitting on Ralph's knee at every opportunity; and even Huw responded to the way Ralph treated him as an equal, allowing him to order for himself from the betassled menu and holding a long and solemn discussion with him about the Morgan motor car.

Afterwards, driving home in Amy's Model T – which they had been forced to use since the Morgan would never have accommodated all of them – Ralph raised the subject again.

‘I suppose I shall have to get something bigger, since I'm acquiring a ready-made family,' he said with a wry smile.

‘Oh, you couldn't get rid of your Morgan!' Amy protested.

‘Certainly not! I meant in addition to that. We shall have a car each and a family car. How would that suit you?'

‘Beautifully,' Amy said, relieved. For her, Ralph and the Morgan were synonymous.

Amy had prepared a Sunday afternoon tea – fruit and cream, currant bread spread thickly with farmhouse butter, small iced cakes and an enormous shiny-topped cherry cake. Although she and Ralph were still too full of lunch to be able to eat much, the children managed to tuck in again. Afterwards, while she was washing up, Ralph played ludo for a while with the children, then came into the kitchen where she was stacking away the last of the clean dishes.

‘OK, then?'

‘Ralph, you're marvellous with them! They've taken to you so well; I would never have believed it.'

He grinned. ‘I'm a man of many talents. I hope you realise your good luck?'

‘Oh, I do! I do!'

‘Good! Can you bear to talk business for a minute?'

She cast a quick glance towards the living-room and he intercepted it.

‘Don't worry, they're fine. They're setting up the tiddlywinks now and I should think we shall be in for an all-night session!'

She closed the cupboard door and turned to face him, wiping her hands on the teacloth.

‘Are you sure it's business you want to talk about?' she teased.

‘Quite sure! There will be plenty of time for other things later. It's about Frickers Transport.'

Instantly he had her attention, just as he had known he would. Her eyes narrowed and it occurred to him once more that Amy could be a dangerous enemy. She never forgot an old score.

‘What about Frickers Transport?'

‘They're in trouble.'

‘How do you know?' But she could guess. All such snippets of information were hashed and rehashed in the private room at the George – and Ralph had been there with his usual drinking cronies last night. ‘How bad is it?' she asked.

‘Very bad, by the sound of it. They owe money all over the place. I suspected as much. Their name has been in the paper too often lately over petty offences – hardly a week goes by but one of their drivers is brought before the court for something or other.'

‘But paying their fines wouldn't be enough to ruin them, surely?'

‘Of course not. They're just the visible symptoms of an internal disorder – think about it. Last week they were summoned at Bridgwater for having a lad driving one of their lorries, when they know as well as we do that the new traffic laws don't allow anyone under the age of twenty-one to drive a heavy motor. Why did they do it? Because a lad comes cheaper than a trained man and they thought it was worth the risk. The week before, it was a lorry with defective tyres – three of them right down to the canvas, according to the policeman who stopped them. They got away with that heaven knows how – but the fact remains that the tyres should have been replaced long ago. And it's not so long since one of their little two-tonners ran away and into a herd of heifers – remember? One animal was killed outright, one had to be destroyed and the drover was put in hospital. More evidence, if you work it out, that the lorries are not being properly maintained.'

Amy nodded. ‘You're right, of course. I hadn't really thought about it. The less I have to think about charming Mr Fricker, the better it is for my health.'

Ralph laughed. He knew of Amy's hearty dislike for Don Fricker and in fact shared her view that he was a thoroughly disagreeable man, though he did have an extremely attractive daughter. Once upon a time, when Ralph had despaired of ever making headway with Amy, he had considered whether or not he should make some overtures to Erica. But she had had eyes for no one but the son of his Swedish contact, and Ralph had been sufficiently in love with Amy to be glad he had not been tempted to settle for second-best. Now he leaned back against the kitchen table, watching Amy's face as she contemplated the problems facing her bitterest rival.

‘You think he's on the slippery slope, then?'

‘I do.' He picked up a stray cherry which Amy had failed to notice on the table top and popped it into his mouth. ‘I think that you could finish him off any time you cared to.'

She considered. Finish him off. Undercut him, promise a better service, gobble up his remaining business. It wouldn't be difficult. Rats always desert a sinking ship, she thought. And it would be poetic justice. Wasn't it exactly what he had tried to do to her once, when he had known she was down? But there was another way, a little costlier perhaps but cleaner and more satisfying.

‘I'd rather take him over,' she said.

Ralph half smiled. It was incredible what the years of fighting had done for her – though perhaps that hard edge of determination had always been there and was only now honed to a fine cutting edge.

‘Careful, Amy!'

‘Why?'

‘You don't want to burn your fingers. This is a bad time and things are likely to get worse before they get better. There's a depression, you know.'

‘I know that.'

‘Not only that, transport is getting more competitive and cut-throat. For instance, the railways are intensifying their operation, and intend to replace a lot of their horse-drawn wagons with motor vehicles so that they can run a complete source-to-destination service. It will be quick and convenient for a good many firms to use them.'

‘I can compete.'

‘Well, that has to be your decision. Think about it, though.'

‘I have thought,' she stated.

He grinned. ‘You have become one hell of a business-woman, Amy. All right, you want to take over Frickers. How do you want to go about it? Shall I put out some feelers for you?'

She thought for a moment, the memory of Don Fricker's visit to her that day when she had been scraping rock-bottom still fresh and clear in her mind. At the time she had blamed Ralph for putting him up to it – now she knew better. Without doubt Fricker had carefully planned the demise of Roberts Haulage and gleaned information as to how well his undercutting and wheeler-dealing was working through the usual channels of tittle-tattle – conversation between the drivers, for instance. As for the timing of his visit to her, Amy was now sure that it was pure coincidence that it had occurred the day after she had talked to Ralph. Knowing that the attempt to put her out of business had been all Fricker's own work meant that all her smouldering resentment was directed at him alone, and the memory of his readiness to destroy her decided her now.

‘Find out what you can for me, yes. But leave the negotiating to me,' she said.

‘He'll never sell out to you, Amy.'

‘We shall see about that.'

The rest of the evening she was withdrawn, thinking and planning. Next morning she made telephone calls to her accountant, bank manager and Arthur Clarence. Then, with the facts and figures at her finger-tips, she telephoned Fricker Transport.

‘Mr Fricker, it's Amy Roberts. Can I come out to see you?'

‘Mrs Roberts!' His tone was bluff as ever, but she detected a note of anxiety. ‘To what do I owe the honour?'

‘I think I can tell you that better face to face. Shall we say an hour?'

A hesitation. ‘Make it an hour and a half, Mrs Roberts. I'm rather tied up just now.'

She smiled, remembering the way she had hedged with him. The boot was certainly on the other foot now.

‘All right. An hour and a half.'

As she drove out to Stack Norton, Amy felt elated with excited anticipation. Don Fricker's yard was just off the main road and as she turned into it, she noticed two lorries parked up. They looked less than cared for, the bright paint mud-spattered and fading, traces of rust on the beds. Not the best of stock to take over, but with a little money spent on them they could be assets once more instead of liabilities. And she liked the positioning of the yard, too. Out here, close to the quarries, it could make a useful depot.

Don Fricker came to the door of his office to greet her, but his hearty manner – like his voice on the telephone – revealed telltale signs of anxiety. She followed him into the office – bare, functional, with pin-up calendars dwarfing the charts on the walls. Amy made a mental note that these would have to go!

He pulled out a chair for her and then settled himself in his own large, worn swivel-chair without waiting for her to sit. She studied his face. It had fallen into heavy pouches and the veins which criss-crossed red and purple on his cheeks and nose made her wonder if he was drinking too much. Cause or effect? she wondered. Had the business run into trouble because Don Fricker was drinking the profits, or had he turned to the bottle to drown his sorrows?