Two Penn'orth of Sky (40 page)

And having decided what she wanted, she promptly became a delightful companion so that everyone thoroughly enjoyed the little holiday and when the time came to go home, both Johnny and Aunt Carrie implored Emmy to bring Diana with her whenever she came to Llandudno.

It was October and Emmy was sitting on the end of her bed in the tiny attic room she shared with Diana and Becky, painting her nails with shell-pink varnish and trying to concentrate on Carl’s impending visit. She had fallen into the habit of spending every other weekend in Llandudno with the Frosts, though she was always careful not to be away when Carl’s ship was due to dock. She was fond of both young men and had not been at all shocked when Carl had confessed to a previous girlfriend called Cissie Malone; nor had she minded that Carl had taken the girl to the theatre whilst she had been in Llandudno. However, she had realised it would be wiser to confine her weekends away to times when the
Cleopatra
was not in port. She did not do this because she was afraid of Carl’s renewing his friendship with Cissie, but because she knew how eagerly he looked forward to their time together. At least, that was what she told herself. Beryl had chided her with having both young men on a string, but she had assured her friend that this was not the case. ‘I’ve been ill and shut away in the sanatorium for three years, remember,’ she had said reproachfully. ‘I’m biding my time until I’ve decided what course the rest of my life is going to take. Is that so wrong? After all, it isn’t as though either Johnny or Carl lives just around the corner; I don’t see either of them that often.’

But now, sitting on her bed, and listening for Carl’s knock at the door, she was beginning to believe that it was time she made up her mind. The fact that Diana was so very keen on her marrying Johnny naturally weighted the scales in his favour, for life would be much easier if Diana approved of her choice. On the other hand, Emmy had taken a good hard look at herself recently, and had been forced to face some home truths. Johnny was a thoroughly nice young man, full of good intentions and certainly very fond of her, but he was not assertive and had very little self-confidence.

However, she had grown to love the town of Llandudno, with its beautiful beach, wonderful views from the Great Orme, and entrancing countryside. She enjoyed helping in the guest house and being fussed over by Carrie Frost, but the more she visited, the more she realised that Johnny himself was quite a small part of the attraction the visits held for her. If I’m honest, she told herself now, am I considering marrying him simply in order to have the sort of life I enjoy? And how long would I go on enjoying it if I was sharing it with a man who sought my approval – and that of his aunt – before every move he made?

It was a pity that Diana didn’t really like Carl very much and was so fond of Johnny, or appeared to be so, but the child would be twelve next birthday and one day, in the not too distant future, she would be considering marriage on her own account. If I deny myself a husband to suit Diana, it won’t stop her going off when she meets a man of her own, Emmy reminded herself. Beryl always tells me to consult my heart and marry for love – as I did with Peter – and I should do just that. Carl reminds me of Peter, and yet . . . and yet . . . I know! I’ll ask Mr Mac if I
can have a word. He’s far more experienced than I, even though he’s never been married himself. Why, all the girls ask his advice when they’re in any sort of trouble, and he’s been a real friend to me. Though he doesn’t know either Carl or Johnny personally, I’ve talked so much about both of them to him that his advice would be well worth taking.

And when, presently, she heard Carl’s knock on the door, she felt a flutter of real excitement and a sort of glow which, she told herself, might be the first stirrings of a warmer feeling towards him, for she was vaguely aware that she did not actually love either Johnny or Carl; not yet, at any rate. However, she knew she had not truly loved Peter until they had been married for several months, so this did not worry her. Love came as a result of being together and getting to know the other person, she concluded. It was awfully romantic to think that love came first, but it was not her experience. Perhaps I’m cold, she thought rather dolefully, since most girls fall in love before marriage and not after. But if I am, men don’t seem to notice. Cheered by the reflection, she ran lightly down the stairs.

She reached the front door just as Beryl emerged from the kitchen, dusting flour off her hands. ‘It’s all right, Beryl,’ Emmy said breathlessly, tugging the door open. ‘It’ll be Carl; the
Cleopatra
is due to dock today, and—’ She stopped short, rendered speechless by surprise. The man standing on the doorstep, smiling at her, was not Carl Johansson, nor was it Johnny Frost. It was Mr Mac.

To say that Emmy was taken aback was putting it mildly; she was truly astonished. Mr Mac had sent messengers round to Nightingale Court several times, asking if she could do an extra shift, or some such
thing, but he had never actually visited No. 4 before. So now she stood and stared at him, then hastily remembered her manners. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Mac. I was expecting . . . but that doesn’t matter. Won’t you come in?’

She said the words without the slightest expectation of his accepting the invitation. She thought he would shake his head, deliver some message or other, and leave. Instead, he mounted the three steps, saying as he did so: ‘I’m sorry to intrude, Mrs Wesley, but I rather wanted a word.’

‘You aren’t intruding, Mr Mac,’ Emmy said warmly. He was her employer, her boss, yet insidiously, over the years they had known one another, he had become a good and reliable friend. She had no idea why he had come here – it was probably something to do with work – but as she led him into the parlour, she realised that this was the ideal opportunity to ask him for his advice about Johnny and Carl.

So she bade him sit down in one of the rather stiff parlour chairs, and asked him if he would like a cup of tea. Mr Mac shook his head, his eyes twinkling. ‘No, thank you, Mrs Wesley. I mustn’t take up too much of your time. I came along to tell you that Mrs Chamberlain will be leaving us next week to go and live with her married daughter at Great Sutton. I wondered if you would make a collection amongst the staff – and any customers who know her, of course – and then buy a suitable gift on our behalf. Normally, my mother would undertake this task, but, as you know, she hasn’t been too well recently and we thought you would make a very good substitute. You have excellent taste and have known Mrs Chamberlain for some time, so you may be able to choose something to please her.’

Emmy had sat down opposite Mr Mac, and now she agreed readily to undertake the task, though she could not help wondering why Mr Mac had approached her at home rather than at work. Maggie Chamberlain was the charlady who cleaned and washed up in the kitchens and it would have been simple enough for Mr Mac to call Emmy into his office, rather than come all the way round to Nightingale Court.

Mr Mac must have had a shrewd idea of what she was thinking, for he smiled again, then leaned forward in his chair. ‘Yes, Mrs Wesley, I could easily have asked you this tomorrow at work, but the fact is, I have another favour to ask. Mother and I have been talking for some time about the possibility of buying a small property in some pleasant suburb. Living over the shop is convenient in many ways, but it is not ideal. Mother is almost seventy-five and is finding the stairs increasingly difficult. What is more, she feels we are both too much “on call” whilst we’re living in the flat, and she would love a little garden of her own. I don’t intend to retire, but I would certainly hope to work perhaps a three- or four-day week, and to take proper holidays. If we lived in the suburbs, the countryside would not be as inaccessible as it is at present, so we should be able to enjoy days out without feeling that the business would suffer in our absence.’

‘But it would – suffer, I mean,’ Emmy said, rather wildly. She realised that she could not imagine Mac’s without Mr Mac, so to speak. He was a quiet man; she had never known him shout at a member of staff or throw his weight about. He treated delivery boys and important customers with the same quiet friendliness, and even when things went wrong and everyone else
was shouting or weeping or bewailing their fate, Mr Mac was cool, calm and collected, often even amused, pointing out that no one is perfect and that problems, if faced without fuss, usually disappeared. ‘Even when you’re only away for a day, Mr Mac, things seem to go wrong. Though your mother is awfully good, of course,’ she added hastily.

Mr Mac smiled. ‘Well, naturally, I could scarcely leave the business without appointing a deputy – a sort of manager – to keep the place running on an even keel,’ he admitted. ‘So I was thinking . . .’

But a ghastly thought had occurred to Emmy. ‘Oh, Mr Mac, if you were thinking that I could act as manageress in your absence, then please don’t ask me, because I just know I couldn’t possibly do it,’ she said breathlessly. ‘The – the responsibility . . . telling the staff what to do . . . buying ingredients . . . talking to tradesmen . . . I
couldn’t
do it; I think it would kill me!’

‘Dear me, Mrs Wesley, how you leap to conclusions,’ Mr Mac said mildly, but Emmy saw, to her relief, that he was smiling. ‘I wouldn’t dream of burdening you – or any other young person of your age – with such a job. I’ve already approached a cousin of mine. He’s actually a bookkeeper, and a very good one, too, but the firm which employs him is moving its head office to Manchester and he has no desire to go with it. I haven’t told anyone else at Mac’s about my plans, nor shall I do so until everything is cut and dried, but I had to tell you because I’m hoping you will accompany me to look over some houses. Monday is a quiet day at Mac’s, so I have no qualms about leaving Millie in charge. Young Ada is proving very reliable on the cash desk, and since it is your day off it seemed an ideal opportunity – unless you
have some other pressing engagement? Mother says she will be perfectly satisfied with whatever I choose, but I’d feel very much happier to have a woman’s opinion before committing myself.’ He fished in his pocket and produced a sheaf of papers. ‘There are five properties here which sound quite suitable, so if you feel you could give me the pleasure of your company, we will hire a taxi and take a look at them.’

Emmy was in a dilemma. Mr Mac was a true friend and one on whom she could rely, but Carl would be arriving at any moment, expecting her to spend the rest of the day with him. However, the lure of looking over five houses was strong, and to be honest, she suddenly realised that Mr Mac’s proposed expedition would be a good deal more relaxing than the sort of outing which Carl enjoyed. Carl would be charming, amusing and energetic, whisking her from place to place, showing off a little, demanding her attention. Mr Mac, on the other hand, would be his usual quiet, companionable self, making no demands, not trying to impress her, simply asking her opinion on each of the houses they visited.

Emmy looked across at Mr Mac and made up her mind. ‘What woman could resist the chance to examine another woman’s house?’ she said gaily. ‘Of course I’ll come, Mr Mac. If you’ll just wait here a moment, I’ll tell Beryl and then we can leave.’

She shot into the kitchen and explained, in a hasty gabble, what Mr Mac wanted. Beryl raised her eyebrows, giving a tight little smile as she did so. ‘Well, well, well,’ she said slowly. ‘So what do I say to Mr Johansson when he calls? And suppose you walk slap bang into him as you turn into Raymond Street? I know he couldn’t tell you what time he
would arrive, but he did say he hoped to be with you today.’

‘Oh, Beryl, I know it sounds awful but he
is
my boss and he’s been most awfully good to me,’ Emmy said, rather reproachfully. ‘If you explain to Carl that I’ve been unexpectedly called away, I’m sure he’ll understand. Tell him to come back around seven this evening and we can go to a flick, or a dance, or something. Only – only I wouldn’t want to let Mr Mac down.’

‘No, I see that,’ Beryl acknowledged and Emmy saw, with relief, that her friend was smiling, so she could not disapprove entirely of her choice. ‘Off you go then; we’ll see you back here around six, I dare say?’

‘Yes, I should think so,’ Emmy said, heading for the kitchen door. Having explained her actions to Beryl, she felt almost light-headed with relief, though as she and Mr Mac left the house she scuttled across the court with her eyes on the ground, as if Carl might suddenly materialise before her, demanding to know what she was doing when she should have been awaiting his arrival.

Once on Raymond Street, Mr Mac approached a taxi cab standing by the kerb. He explained, as he handed Emmy in, that he had come by cab and had asked the man to wait, and Emmy, settling comfortably on the long leather seat, dismissed Carl from her mind. She would enjoy today, knowing that she was helping Mr Mac, who had so often helped her.

‘Well, what a day we’ve had, Mrs Wesley,’ Mr Mac said, as they emerged from the last house and crossed the pavement to the waiting taxi. ‘I know you didn’t want to stop for lunch but, quite frankly, if I don’t
have something to eat soon, I shall probably faint away. Tell you what, we’ll get down to the serious business of which house – if any – we prefer over a nice high tea. What do you say to that, eh?’

Emmy beamed at him. She had had a marvellous day, though it had embarrassed her at first that every householder had assumed she was Mrs McCullough. But once the first lady had made the mistake, Mr Mac had taken matters firmly into his own hands, introducing Emmy as an old friend who was deputising for his mother, who was, unfortunately, rather poorly. In the third place they had visited, which was a very large house indeed, the owner had been full of questions and Mr Mac had told her, rather shortly, that he was hoping to get married some time in the near future and needed a larger house than the one he had at present. As soon as they were back on the pavement, Emmy had put the inevitable question, for she felt completely at ease with him and had seen the twinkle in his eye as the woman had stared from one to the other.