Fletchers End (Bel Lamington Book 2) Page 9

  Bel thought perhaps Mr. Baker might be proud of the fact that he had risen in the world by his own efforts and was now the proprietor of a flourishing firm of builders . . . but she did not say so to Mrs. Warmer. As a matter of fact she was aware that when Mrs. Warmer said ‘proud’ she really meant that Mr. Baker was a snob. She really meant that Mr. Baker would no sooner have thought of sitting down and having his dinner with her in her comfortable kitchen than he would have thought of flying by rocket to the moon. Bel thought about it seriously—it really was very interesting indeed. She decided she must talk to Ellis and hear his views on the subject.

  While Bel was chatting to Mrs. Warmer, sitting at her kitchen table and enjoying a very welcome cup of tea, Ellis and Reggie had been making a tour of the house; looking at the room which some day—one hoped—would be a clean and pleasant second bathroom, but which was now a hideous mess, and examining the new window-frames and the gutters.

  “It will never be finished by March,” said Ellis lugubriously as they came down the stairs together.

  “Oh, you’ll be surprised,” Reggie told him. “I’ve got it all under control. We’re getting on very nice—as Mrs. Warmer would say. You can’t do anything at this stage of the proceedings.”

  Obviously this was true, so instead of staying the night at The Owl as they had intended the Brownlees returned to London. They had dinner at the Berkeley to cheer them up a bit and went home to their flat.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was fortunate indeed that there were two such reliable people as Reggie Stephenson and Mrs. Warmer controlling matters at Fletchers End, for Ellis had never been so busy before—and that was saying a good deal. Old Mr. Copping had had another heart attack and, although it was not a severe one, the doctor refused to allow him to return to the office for at least a month. To add to their troubles several of the clerks went down with ’flu.

  One day Bel was obliged to go down to Copping Wharf and see Mr. Nelson, who was manager there. When she was at the office before, it had been one of her duties to go to the Wharf with letters and messages. She had always enjoyed the outing; it was a welcome break in office-routine. Now she felt she knew him even better, for he had been to her wedding, so they greeted each other cordially.

  “Fancy you coming back to the office!” exclaimed Mr. Nelson. “I must say I was glad when I heard it; I could always depend on you to get things done. We had a bad time when you left. Everything was at sixes and sevens. You’ll find a great change at the office now that Mr. Wills has gone . . . went off his head, you know. I wasn’t surprised to tell you the truth. He’d been getting very queer for months.”

  “Miss Goudge has gone too.”

  “No loss,” declared Mr. Nelson. “Good riddance of bad rubbish, that’s what I said when I heard the news.”

  *

  2

  Bel had told herself that she was to be secretary-nursemaid to Mr. James and very soon she discovered that this was indeed her position. If she had not been there to restrain him he would have made a great many mistakes, some of them serious and others of minor importance. Fortunately he was eager to learn; he was also very intelligent—much more clever than he looked—so he rarely made the same mistake twice. She noticed, too, that his mistakes always occurred because he was impulsive and overkeen, anxious to get things done quickly. These were the sins of youth and easily forgiven. Bel rectified his mistakes as best she could; she helped him to choose his clothes, mended his socks and was able to prevent him from inviting the new typist—who was very young and pretty but extraordinarily silly—to have lunch with him.

  “It would be nice for the kid,” he explained.

  “You can’t do it,” Bel told him. “You mustn’t, really. It wouldn’t be kind.”

  “Wouldn’t be kind? But I thought——”

  “Not kind at all. It would cause the most frightful jealousy. Do remember that you’re an important person in this office, Mr. James.”

  “Oh well . . .” he said with a sigh. “You know best, of course.”

  After the first day he ceased to call her ‘Miss Lam— Mrs. Brownlee’ and asked permission to address her as ‘Mrs. B.’

  “It’s like this, you see,” he explained. “Mr. Brownlee is Mr. Brownlee and somehow the name seems to belong to him. I’d like you to have a name of your very own. So if you don’t mind . . .”

  Bel did not mind in the least. She was amused to find the abbreviation adopted by other people in the office—by nearly everyone in fact—even the exceedingly prim and proper Miss Snow addressed her as ‘Mrs. B.’

  *

  3

  One morning Mr. James arrived at the office in particularly good form, he was positively effervescent. The Guv’nor had given him a new car for his birthday; a Moonbeam Sports car with a convertible hood and a super-charged engine. Naturally he wished to tell his secretary all about it and described it in detail . . .

  Bel listened and nodded and tried to look intelligent but knowing nothing whatever about internal combustion engines she could not understand a word.

  “What colour is it?” she asked.

  “Sky blue,” he replied proudly. “I thought of red at first and then I saw a red Moonbeam—exactly the same model—with two ghastly people in it. They had parked in a lay-by and they were hugging each other—on the main road, mark you! It was enough to put anyone off red cars for life. So I rang up the fellow at the garage and changed to sky blue.”

  “It was lucky you were in time.”

  He nodded. “Yes, it was. My little bus is a dream.”

  “And I suppose it goes like the wind?”

  “Like the wind?” exclaimed Mr. James scornfully. “We don’t often get winds in this country with a velocity of over a hundred miles an hour. I tell you what, Mrs. B. I’ll take you for a spin along M.1 and show you what she can do.”

  “That would be lovely,” said Mrs. B. with a strange lack of enthusiasm.

  A good deal of valuable time had been wasted discussing the new car, so it was necessary to get down to business. They were hard at work when one of the typists came in with two cups of coffee, and a couple of biscuits in each saucer. This was the usual routine (it occurred every morning) and as usual the coffee had slopped over into the saucers. The girl put the cups on the table and went away.

  “Look at that!” exclaimed Mr. James. “It’s disgusting! It’s unbearable! Careless slovenly creatures! The coffee is tepid and the biscuits are sodden. I’m jolly well going to tell those girls what I think of them.” He rose and made for the door.

  Bel ran after him and caught hold of his arm. “No,” she cried. “No, Mr. James——”

  “You said I was an important person in this office, so——”

  “That’s why,” declared Bel earnestly. “You’re too important to go and make a row about the coffee. I’ll speak to them and tell them you were very angry. That’s the right way to do it.” She dragged him back into the room and shut the door.

  “Oh well . . .” said Mr. James reluctantly. “If that’s the way to do it . . . but I must say I feel like giving them beans.”

  “Not about coffee,” Bel told him shaking her head. She hesitated and then added, “If you want to give them beans you might speak to them about the delay in sorting the letters. They ought to be on my table every morning when I arrive.”

  Mr. James, who had been looking somewhat glum, brightened up immediately. “That’s the stuff,” he said. “I’ll go now while I’m feeling in the mood.”

  “Tie,” said Bel.

  “What? Oh yes, of course.” He straightened his tie, shot out his cuffs and marched to the door.

  Bel was smiling as she watched him go; she would dearly have loved to follow and hear what happened, but, alas, this was impossible.

  After some time Mr. James returned looking very solemn indeed. He sat down at his table—and winked at his secretary.

  “Ahem!” said Mr. James. “In future the letters will be on your tabl
e within ten minutes of their delivery.”

  “Good,” nodded his secretary.

  “You’re quite right,” declared Mr. James abandoning his solemnity and grinning from ear to ear. “I am an important person in this office.” He added, “Don’t forget to tell them how angry I was about the coffee, will you?”

  In these, and in other matters of greater consequence, Bel guided the steps of the junior partner. It was an interesting job, often amusing, but it took up a great deal of time. Bel had intended to go to the office only in the morning but she soon discovered that this would never do. Not only was there far too much work but also, and more important, was the fact that Mr. James was apt to get into serious muddles when she was not there to keep an eye on him. She was reluctant to give up her afternoons but it could not be helped.

  Housekeeping was very much easier than Bel had expected for there was no lack of money—as there had been in the days when Bel was on her own. The allowance for housekeeping which Ellis was giving her was more than enough. She was able to get a woman to come in every morning for an hour to clean the flat—so when she and Ellis returned from the office it was spick and span—and she was able to buy the best pieces of meat and all sorts of luxuries to cook for supper. For lunch she and Ellis went to a restaurant, which was an excellent plan, not only because it saved the bother of thinking about food but also because it gave them an opportunity of discussing business affairs and arranging the afternoon’s programme.

  Sometimes in the evening they went out to dinner and to a play or a concert but they did not do this often, for as a matter of fact they were both tired by their day’s work and preferred to settle down by the fire and chat or read or listen to the radio. One evening when they had settled down like this Ellis reminded Bel that she had warned him the flat would be very uncomfortable and added laughingly that he had never been so comfortable and well-looked-after in his life.

  Bel was happy too; even the bad weather did not depress her as it used to do. She had hated setting out for the office on foggy mornings all by herself but now she had Ellis with her she did not mind.

  Time passed quickly. Once or twice Bel managed to seize a day off from the office and attended sales and bought some good second-hand furniture (she and Ellis had decided that modern furniture would be quite the wrong thing for Fletchers End). Amongst other things she bought a large four-post bed for a few pounds—and a new interior-spring mattress to fit it, which cost a great deal more—she bought some carpets and wheel-back chairs and several large chests of drawers; an oak chest and an oval mirror which would be suitable for the hall.

  Ellis got loose one afternoon and visited an antique shop where he spent a great deal of money upon a charming corner cupboard and some old oak stools.

  Saturday was free of course and on several occasions Louise came up for the day and helped to choose blankets and pillows and linen and kitchen utensils and a great many other things which would be necessary when they moved into Fletchers End.

  In addition to all her other commitments Bel felt obliged to go and see her mother-in-law whenever possible. Sometimes Ellis came too, but more often Bel went alone. Mrs. Brownlee was finding it dull at Beckenham without her wonderful son and Bel felt very sorry for her. In fact Bel felt guilty—it was a most uncomfortable feeling—for it was she who had stolen Ellis from his mother.

  One day when Bel arrived at Rose Hill unexpectedly she found Mrs. Brownlee in tears.

  “I know it’s silly,” declared Mrs. Brownlee. “But I can’t bear it. You see I used to look forward all day to Ellis coming home in the evening. Now there’s nothing to look forward to at all. I’m so lonely. I don’t seem to have enough to do. I can’t stand it any longer.”

  Bel was aghast. She did not know what to say.

  “I can’t stand it any longer,” repeated Mrs. Brownlee. “The only thing to do is to sell Rose Hill—it’s much too big for me now. Perhaps I could find a little house at Shepherdsford and then I should be near you and Ellis.”

  Bel thought this an excellent plan (she was very fond of her mother-in-law) so she promised to talk to Ellis about it.

  “Yes, ask Ellis,” said Mrs. Brownlee. “See what Ellis thinks. I’m sure we could sell Rose Hill quite easily.”

  *

  4

  Bel was certain that Ellis would approve of Mrs. Brownlee’s plan of coming to live at Shepherdsford so she was very much surprised to discover that he was dead against it.

  “But, Ellis, she’s so lonely!” exclaimed Bel.

  “It wouldn’t work,” said Ellis firmly. “Mother wouldn’t be happy.”

  “Of course she would be happy—she would be near us.”

  “Too near.”

  “But Ellis, it would be nice——”

  “Listen, Bel. I tell you it wouldn’t work. She might like it for a bit but quite soon she’d be bored. Mother isn’t really a country woman. She loves parties; she enjoys popping into town for a day’s shopping; she’s fond of bridge. What on earth would she do in Shepherdsford? I had better go and see her on Sunday afternoon and talk to her about it.”

  “You’ll be tactful, won’t you?” said Bel anxiously. “I mean we don’t want her to think——”

  “My dear girl, I know Mother,” declared Ellis.

  It was true that Ellis knew his mother—he had always been able to twist her round his little finger—so he went down to Beckenham the following Sunday and had a long talk with her. Obviously she could not stay on at Rose Hill if she were unhappy there, but what about Bournemouth? suggested Ellis. At Bournemouth she would be near her sister, Mrs. Player, who had lived in the place for years and knew everyone. There were good concerts at Bournemouth and fascinating shops—and the climate was delightful.

  “Yes,” said Mrs. Brownlee doubtfully. “Yes, it would be nice to be near Catherine, but it would be a long way from you and Bel.”

  “Not really very far,” said Ellis. “Bel and I could run over quite often and spend a week-end with you. It would be lovely for us to have a little change and a breath of sea air.”

  “And of course it’s a very healthy place for children,” said Mrs. Brownlee nodding. “I mean after they’ve had whooping-cough or measles.”

  Ellis was a little surprised. He knew of no children in whom his mother was particularly interested. “It’s a very healthy place for elderly ladies,” he said, giving her an affectionate hug. “Let’s write to Aunt Catherine and see what she thinks of the plan.”

  “Yes, I’ll write to her to-night,” agreed Mrs. Brownlee smiling cheerfully. “You’re quite right, Ellis. Bournemouth will be a delightful place to live—I always enjoy my visits to Catherine so much—it really is very strange that I never thought of it before.”

  Naturally Mrs. Player was delighted at the idea of having her favourite sister settled so near; she set to work without delay to find a suitable residence and soon discovered an attractive bungalow which was being vacated shortly. Mrs. Brownlee went down to see it and decided it would do very well, so Rose Hill was sold, without any difficulty, and the bungalow bought forthwith.

  In comparison with the trouble and delay which Ellis had experienced in the purchase of Fletchers End the matter was very easily dealt with. The whole transaction was accomplished in a few weeks.

  Naturally the bungalow was smaller than Rose Hill so Mrs. Brownlee wrote to Ellis offering him some of her large furniture which would not be required. The letter containing the offer arrived when the young Brownlees were having breakfast.

  “Look at that,” said Ellis, handing the letter to Bel. “Very kind of Mother, but we don’t want it, do we?”

  “Don’t want it!” exclaimed Bel in surprise.

  “It’s Victorian stuff—not a bit suitable for Fletchers End.”

  “Oh, Ellis, we can’t possibly refuse to have it! For one thing your mother would be frightfully hurt, and for another it will fill up the house very comfortably. We haven’t got nearly enough furniture. She wants to
get rid of her big sofa and it will do very nicely for the drawing-room. There are several easy chairs and two large wardrobes and all the dining-room furniture. We could do with some carpets, too—it costs the earth to buy carpets—so you must ring up your mother and tell her we’ll be very grateful to have everything she can spare.”

  Ellis laughed and did as he was told.

  *

  5

  It was that same evening, when they had had supper and were sitting beside their comfortable fire, that Ellis looked up from his paper and remarked, “Jim is coming on well. He’s improved tremendously. He seems steadier, more civilised—if you know what I mean.”

  “Yes,” nodded Bel.

  “I notice a great difference. His manners are better and his clothes are more suitable. I suppose you’ve been helping him a bit?”

  “Yes.”

  “D’you think he’ll be all right when you leave?”

  Bel hesitated. Although her child was growing up rapidly he still needed a great deal of care. She had not told Ellis about all the things she was doing for Mr. James nor of all the things she had prevented him from doing. Several times she had felt very much inclined to tell Ellis about some of the amusing scenes which had taken place in Mr. Wills’s old room, but she had managed to refrain. It would not be fair to give away secrets—and, besides that, she had a feeling that Ellis might not be amused.

  “Perhaps I had better look for a really good secretary for him,” said Ellis. “She could come soon, before you leave, and learn the ropes.”

  “Let me find someone, Ellis.”

  “Let you? Wouldn’t it be an awful bother for you?”

  “I know the sort of person he needs.”

  She knew exactly the sort of person he needed but whether or not she would be able to find that person was doubtful. However she realised that she would have to try. She could not possibly walk out and leave Mr. James to the tender mercies of an unknown young woman—even a very experienced young woman—it was unthinkable.