A Perfect Christmas (20 page)

In the kitchen doorway Agnes Dalby did a double take when she spotted Cait make her way across the hallway into the dining room, to take her seat at the table. If she didn’t know better she would have thought Cait had an elder sister she hadn’t known about, and a very smart, sophisticated-looking young woman at that. With a fresh pot of tea in her hand, Agnes hurried after her. ‘Good morning, Miss Thomas. I have to say, you do look extremely smart today. I haven’t seen that outfit you’re in before. Is it new?’

Cait had too much on her mind today to question Agnes as to just why she was here when Nerys had laid her off. It would never have occurred to her that it was because she cared deeply about Cait’s welfare. It was nice, though, to be complimented on her appearance after working so hard to transform it. ‘Thank you. It’s one of several I’ve bought since I took over my new position,’ she told the daily.

Agnes turned the cup over in its saucer and poured a cup of tea for her. ‘Oh, you have a new job, Miss Thomas? Many congratulations. May I ask if it’s a promotion within the company you’re already in or with another firm?’

Cait opened her mouth to tell her then snapped it shut. For whatever reason, her mother had kept it a secret that she owned a business. What her reaction was going to be when she did arrive back and discover that her secret was out Cait wasn’t sure. Although Cait felt sure that Nerys wouldn’t fail but be impressed with her daughter for having risen to the occasion and stepped into her shoes during her absence, she was fairly confident her mother would not want her blabbing about their private affairs, so she avoided the question.

‘Thanks, Dalby. I’ll just have toast this morning.’ Which was more, in fact, than she could actually face given her apprehension about the day ahead, but Cait knew it would be foolish to take on a big day on an empty stomach.

Agnes registered her evasion of the question about the job and left the room to attend to her tasks.

A while later Cait alighted from the bus and stood before the building she now saw as her ex-place of work, savouring the thought of what she was about to do before she opened the door leading into reception. She ignored the shocked look that the middle-aged receptionist shot her. Employees, they both knew, were meant to arrive by the back entrance. Instead Cait walked across the foyer to go through to the offices.

Outside the general office door, she paused just long enough to draw breath before she turned the knob and made her way purposefully inside. She immediately saw that her sour-faced supervisor was at her own desk, taking work to be done out of her in tray to distribute it around the other typists. She must have realised that as it was now approaching nine-thirty Cait wasn’t turning up for work again. By now several of the other clerks and typists had noticed her, staring at her agog as she weaved her way through their desks.

Hearing the sound of heels approaching on the hard floor, Sylvia Grey looked up. Her eyebrows rose when she saw it was Cait. If she noticed her smart new look she didn’t make any comment, just said evenly, ‘Good morning, Miss Thomas, so good of you to grace us with your presence. Would you like to come into my office? We need a private talk.’

It gave Cait great pleasure to reply to her, ‘What I have to say to you can be said here.’

Sylvia Grey shot her a knowing look, interjecting before she could add another word, ‘Don’t try to offer me any more unacceptable excuses for your absences, Miss Thomas. The person you got to telephone me yesterday told me you were in bed suffering from women’s problems. We are all women in this department, and if we all took time off when we suffered from our so-called problems then this firm would grind to a standstill. You don’t look to me like you’re suffering from anything debilitating. In fact, I’d say you’re positively glowing. I doubt there is any acceptable excuse for your lateness today.’

She shook her head sadly. ‘I’m afraid we’ve arrived at the stage where your behaviour can no longer be tolerated. It isn’t fair to the rest of your colleagues who have to share your workload while you take days off, as and when you feel like it, as well as keeping up with their own. We won’t be asking you to serve out your notice. It’s a shame it has come to this as I did have high hopes for you.’

This statement stunned Cait. ‘High hopes! But you were forever singling me out to criticise my work and passing me over when it came to promotion.’

The older woman eyed her meaningfully. ‘Constructive criticism, Miss Thomas. It’s my job to point out mistakes made by all my charges, spurring them on to improve themselves. I singled you out no more than you deserved, which in truth wasn’t very often. On the whole your work was of an acceptable standard since you’ve greatly improved from when you first joined us here. As for passing you over for promotion, you aren’t ready for that until such time as you temper your attitude, young lady.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with my attitude!’ Cait exclaimed, insulted.

Sylvia Grey eyed her. She had in fact tried to speak to Cait on numerous occasions about her annoying and unnecessarily superior manner. ‘And while you believe that, Miss Thomas, you’ll never achieve any higher status than that of typist. In this company or any other.’

Cait puffed out her chest. Well, that’s where the old dragon was wrong and it was going to be a great pleasure to tell her that there was no higher position in a firm than heading it up as the daughter of the owner. She wanted everyone in the room to hear what she was about to divulge. In a loud voice she began, ‘For your information, Miss Grey . . .’

She was interrupted by the arrival of Sylvia Grey’s assistant, a tiny mousy woman who in a squeaky high-pitched voice announced: ‘Sorry to disturb you, Miss Grey, but Mr Cummings has asked for one of the girls to be sent to him for dictation. I took the liberty of answering your telephone as you were otherwise occupied. He says it is urgent.’

Miss Grey thanked the woman and said to Cait, ‘I’ll have your wages and cards made up ready for you to collect next Friday from reception. Please clear your desk of any personal belongings and be on your way.’

With that the older woman hurried away, leaving Cait fuming that she’d been cheated out of her moment of glory.

The personal belongings she had kept in her drawer – a nearly empty bottle of hair lacquer, hairbrush, couple of lipsticks, clear nail polish for halting runs in her nylons, a packet of Fox’s Glacier Mints, a half-eaten packet of custard creams – she threw in the bin as she felt they weren’t worth filling her handbag with, even though she meant to swap it for one of far higher quality as soon as she took up her new position. She was conscious that all the girls were secretly watching her, knowing they were highly amused by the way in which Miss Grey had dismissed her. Still, this was the last time anyone would dare treat Cait in such a manner.

A while later, as she walked purposefully through the main entrance into the reception area of Rose’s, it didn’t escape Cait’s notice that the young receptionist sat up to attention the moment she saw her and called over ‘Good morning, Miss Thomas’, in a very respectful manner.

At the bottom of the stairs Cait hesitated for a moment, worried that her journey and diversion might have ruffled her appearance in some way. She was about to ask the young woman if she looked all right then remembered that she was temporarily the boss of the company so needed to act at all times as if she was in charge. That meant not showing anyone she was feeling in any way out of her depth, even though she was.

It was apparent that the receptionist had alerted Jane Trucker of Cait’s arrival as the older woman was waiting for her in what was now her office, notepad and pen in hand.

If she was surprised by the transformation in Cait she didn’t show it, just said a pleasant ‘Good morning, Miss Thomas’ as Cait took off her smart new red coat. Before Jane Trucker could say anything else, Cait told her, ‘I could do with a cup of tea first and then I’d like you to arrange for me to see a sample of all the court shoes and handbags we stock.’

Jane told her, ‘Miss Thomas, we have a room set aside with samples of all our merchandise out on display for our customers to view and select from. I appreciate that you want to familiarise yourself with the stock and can take you down there later when we’ve dealt with all the matters that need your immediate attention. If I could take the liberty of using your telephone, I’ll order the tea and then we can get down to it.’

Her mother, Cait knew, would not have stood for what she would have perceived as someone ignoring her wishes. Cait feared that if she didn’t stand her ground this time they would think her a pushover and never take her seriously.

‘May I remind you, Miss Trucker, that I am in charge of this company and expect you to obey my instructions,’ she said. ‘Now, if you would arrange for me to view our stock of shoes and handbags, as I asked, I’d be grateful. Size five for the shoes.’ She hoped the secretary could not tell that she was inwardly shaking at having to remind her of her place. Then her misguided beliefs as to how the owner of a business should act made her add: ‘Have them brought up here for me to look over.’

Jane Trucker had worked for the company for many years, had more than proved her loyalty and commitment to it, and did not at all appreciate being treated in this fashion by a young chit of a girl, even if she was the owner’s daughter. And she was cross to discover that the girl was after some shoes and bags for herself rather than familiarising herself with their stock. To her credit Jane kept these feelings to herself and replied: ‘I’ll see to it immediately, Miss Thomas.’ She turned back as she remembered she had something important to relay to her new boss. ‘The arrangements for Mr Swinton’s funeral have been finalised, Miss Thomas. It’s to be at two-thirty at St Peter’s on Thursday afternoon. I’ll order a car to collect you at two.’

Downstairs in the stores, as Glen was making his way back to his office after attending to a broken fluorescent light strip in a corridor, he heard Harry Owens grumbling loudly in annoyance. As he arrived near him, Glen asked, ‘Something upset you, Harry?’

‘You could say that,’ he spat back. ‘That little madam upstairs has only demanded a pair of every style of courts and a sample of all our current range of handbags to be delivered to her office. What’s wrong with her getting off her arse and paying a visit to the viewing room like everyone else does when they want to view the products? Little upstart, she is. As if I haven’t enough to do with six orders to get out by tonight, and a delivery from Italy and one from Northampton to check in. Jeffrey!’ he shouted. When he received no response, he angrily snapped, ‘Now where’s the little sod got to? Out the back for a crafty fag, I bet, while I was getting me instructions from Miss Trucker. Well, he made it clear from the moment he started here that the word “work” was a dirty word to him. Reg Swinton is . . . was . . . usually such a good judge of character, he should have seen what Jeff was like at his interview and not taken him on, but he’s the grandson of one of the old stalwarts in the factory and Reg agreed to give him a try from respect for the old man.

‘Well, he’ll have to go. I’m not prepared to carry him any longer. I’d already mentioned my feelings to Reg when he asked me how the new recruit was getting on, and he agreed that if Jeffrey hadn’t pulled his socks up by the end of the week then it was his cards for him. I shall have to go and see
Madam
to have her sort this out if she expects this department to keep up with the workload.’

Glen thought it strange that Harry was referring to Nerys in this way. ‘Maybe Mrs Thomas didn’t realise she was heaping such a task on you when she asked for the samples to be taken up to the office. I mean, she wouldn’t know that your junior storeman is such a shirker, would she? Not until you tell her, that is.’ He was not defending Nerys but attempting to dampen Harry’s anger as he wouldn’t like him to approach Nerys in his current frame of mind and risk losing his job.

Harry thought about this for a moment and said, ‘I suppose you have a point. Anyway, you obviously haven’t heard . . . it ain’t Mrs Thomas herself honouring us with her presence. Apparently she’s on holiday somewhere exotic, a place the likes of her employees can only dream of going. It’s her daughter who’s representing her meantime. I ask yer, a lass hardly out of her nappies running a place like this, even if it is only temporary . . . well, it beggars belief, so it does.’

But Glen had stopped listening when Harry had announced that it was Nerys’s daughter that was up in the office. His thoughts ran out of control. He was having difficulty believing that his beloved daughter, whom he had missed terribly during his enforced separation from her, was now in the same building as he was. He had to fight to stop himself from charging up there, begging her to believe that he was neither dead – if indeed Nerys had told her that – nor the murderous thug she may have been led to believe. But her office was hardly the place to spring such a shock on her. Now he knew where she was he needed to plan meticulously just how he was going to break the news to her. He needed Jan’s help on this.

In the meantime he would settle for just a glimpse of Lucy so that he could see what she looked like now, whether she took more after her mother or himself. But to catch that glimpse posed him a problem. A lowly maintenance man such as he had to have a reason to visit the offices, and he didn’t have one. He was unaware that Harry was staring at him and looking perplexed.

Having finally got his attention, Harry said in concern, ‘This is the third time I’ve asked you, mate, but are you all right? Only you’re as white as a sheet and you look like you’ve just had some shocking news.’

Glen gave himself a mental shake, forcing a smile to his face. ‘Oh, I’d just . . . er . . . remembered that I was asked to get some potatoes on my way home tonight. Don’t know what made me remember that while you were carrying on.’

Harry eyed him knowingly. ‘Ah, well, when the wife’s given you her orders it’s best not to forget or it’ll be the evil eye for you all night, me lad. I speak from experience.’ Harry’s expression then changed to one of curiosity. ‘Rumour has it that you’re rather pally with the new woman in the canteen that started yesterday, the same as you? In fact, it’s said that you came in to apply for the jobs together.’