A Second Chance (36 page)

Jimmy stopped in his tracks as a dreadful
thought struck him: what if Sarah were to be married? It would be
disastrous. And she could be a target for any number of
fortune-hunters with selfish motives. That made things rather more
difficult. He would have to move more quickly than he had planned,
but not so quickly as to risk her taking fright and fancying that
his intentions were other than benevolent. In any event, things
must be properly settled between them before Sarah married.

It was somewhat odd, though certainly
fortunate, that she had not already married. Not only was she a
substantial heiress; she resembled her mother enough to be a pretty
girl. She could do with being more womanly, of course. It was a
pity she hadn’t inherited something of Amy’s amiable nature, though
that made the whole business more of a stimulating challenge.

He lost himself briefly in pleasant
recollections of Amy’s warm and obliging ways. There had never been
any other woman quite like her. If only circumstances had not made
it impossible for him to marry her. If only he could have found
someone with Amy’s nature and Charlotte’s material advantages.
Jimmy rather thought he might have managed to be faithful to such a
woman.

He pulled out his watch and checked the
time. Almost four o’clock; it was hardly worth going back to the
office now. A few drinks and an early dinner at his club, perhaps.
Then a game or two of cards; his luck at the table had not been the
best lately, but it must be due to change. Fortune was certainly
smiling upon him with the discovery of his daughter.

There would be no need to hurry home after
that. There was a certain establishment where they knew his
particular tastes. Damnably expensive, but he could afford to treat
himself. He could afford a good many things now.

*

Jimmy sat in his office chair, staring
absently at the far wall as he mulled over his plans. It was almost
three weeks since his conversation with Sarah. He had attempted to
call on her several times since then, but on each occasion had been
told she was otherwise engaged. No doubt she was a busy girl, but
he suspected it was more a case of her not yet being ready to meet
him again. There was probably an element of shyness, which was
quite becoming in a girl. He briefly considered penning a letter to
her, but rejected the idea almost at once. It was best not to put
anything in writing just yet.

A soft knock at the door broke into his
thoughts. Jimmy looked over to see his young clerk, Osborne,
standing in the doorway.

‘What is it, Osborne?’

‘Mr Hobbs is here again. He’s quite
insistent, sir,’ Osborne said quickly, before Jimmy could tell him
to send the man packing.

Jimmy sighed. ‘All right, then, send him
in.’ He leaned back in his chair and assumed the expression of a
man bestowing his valuable attention on one scarcely worthy of the
honour.

Mr Hobbs owned a brass foundry; a small
concern, with a handful of workers. Jimmy had done him something of
a favour by putting an order for the fittings in a row of worker’s
cottages into his hands. The order had been large enough, coupled
with Jimmy’s suggestion that more business would be likely to come
his way, for Hobbs to sell him the fittings at rather a good price,
and Jimmy had to admit that his staff had told him the foundry’s
workmanship was excellent. But the man had become tiresome since,
constantly nagging about his payment. Surely he knew that a
business the size of Jimmy’s could not be expected to pay every
little invoice straight away? And naturally Jimmy needed to see
that the more important suppliers were paid first. Men like Hobbs
simply had to wait their turn.

Mr Hobbs slipped into the room, clutching
his hat in his hands. He was a small, balding man in a worn-looking
suit. He looked in awe around Jimmy’s well-furnished office as he
approached the desk.

‘Ah, Hobbs,’ Jimmy said expansively. ‘Sit
down, won’t you? Now, what can I do for you?’

Mr Hobbs perched on the edge of the
indicated chair. ‘It’s about the money, sir. The account’s got
quite overdue now.’

‘Has it indeed? Dear, dear—I shall have to
speak to my clerks about that.’ The invoices concerned were in a
well-stuffed folder somewhere in his desk, along with others
liberally ornamented with “Overdue” or various synonyms.

‘It’s two hundred and thirty pounds. That’s
a lot of money for a man such as myself.’ Mr Hobbs looked around
the wood-panelled office again. ‘I’ve wages to pay, you see, and a
family to feed. I’m sorry to be a bother about it,’ he added,
lowering his gaze.

‘Yes, well, I’m in a similar position
myself, you know,’ said Jimmy. ‘The men’s wages have to be paid,
even if it means going short myself. And cash is just a little
tight at the moment—business is brisk enough,’ he added quickly,
‘but much of my cash is tied up in some promising new developments.
You know what it’s like, Hobbs, you and I are both men of business.
Sometimes one has to be patient with these things.’

Mr Hobbs turned his hat around in his lap.
‘Not wanting to be rude, sir, but I’ve been patient over this for
six months now. Patience won’t put food on the table, or pay the
wages. And now I’ve got rent due on the factory, and all manner of
things I need money for. I need that bill paid, and that’s the
truth of it.’ Having been roused enough to make such a bold speech,
he seemed to shrink in on himself.

Jimmy took out his wallet and opened it.
‘Now, I’ll tell you what—here’s five pounds out of my own pocket,
just as a gesture of good faith.’ He handed the note across his
desk. After a moment’s hesitation, Mr Hobbs took it, and studied it
rather uncertainly.

‘And there’s no need for you to worry
yourself about the rest of it,’ Jimmy said. ‘I’m going to take you
into my confidence, Hobbs. I can see you’re an honest fellow, so
I’m going to trust you with this. You know of Sarah Millish, I
suppose?’

‘Miss Millish? Of course, sir.’

‘Well—remember, this is in confidence—Miss
Millish and I are on the point of coming to a business arrangement
that will be highly advantageous to us both. Once that happens, any
current difficulties regarding cash will become irrelevant.’

He watched Mr Hobbs puzzling it out. ‘So you
have dealings with Miss Millish?’

‘Yes, I do. It’s early days yet, but it’s
all looking very promising. And, I might add, once things start
going forward I’m likely to be able to put a good deal more
business your way.’ Jimmy saw from Mr Hobbs’ eyes that the man had
taken the bait. He reeled him in carefully. ‘Access to the Millish
business, eh, Hobbs. That’s worth a bit of patience, isn’t it?’

‘I suppose so. I can’t wait for the whole
amount, Mr Taylor.’

‘No one’s asking you to,’ Jimmy said
breezily. ‘I’ve given you something on account, and if you come
back in a week or two, I’ll tell the clerk to have a little
something more ready. The Millish business, Hobbs. Just think of
that.’

He stood up and strode around to the front
of his desk, extending his hand. Mr Hobbs hesitated before shaking
the proffered hand. ‘Well, I’m sure you have things you need to be
doing, Hobbs, so I won’t keep you any longer. We’ll be speaking
again before too long, I’ve no doubt. Just remember,’ he added,
giving Mr Hobbs the grin of a fellow conspirator, ‘keep the Millish
business under your hat for now.’

‘I will, Mr Taylor. Thank you very much,
sir.’

Mr Hobbs allowed himself to be shepherded
out of the door, and Jimmy resumed his comfortable chair. It was
time, he reflected, to try another visit to Sarah.

*

Sarah’s letters continued to give Amy the
sense that she was preoccupied with an irritating matter. But even
if she had been pressing Amy to visit her again, Amy would have
felt herself unable to leave the farm. For she had begun to suspect
that Beth was unwell.

After having a barely perceptible bump for
months, Beth seemed to have swollen almost overnight, so that her
pregnancy looked more advanced than its five months. She moved
clumsily, and seemed short of breath much of the time. Amy thought
the baby must be lying awkwardly, though she was careful to say
nothing to Beth that might alarm her. She told herself she was
probably worrying needlessly. Beth had always been a healthy girl;
there was surely no reason to think she was in any real danger.

Lizzie seemed unconcerned, though Amy
suspected Beth made an effort to appear more cheerful when her
parents came to visit, as Amy did herself. It helped cover the
awkward silences when David and Frank were in the same room. And
Lizzie had not been a frequent visitor of late; Benjy had been
somewhat feverish during a recent bout of teething, making Lizzie
reluctant to take him out of the house since.

But it wrung Amy’s heart to see Beth grimace
in pain if she moved incautiously. She would only allow Beth to
help with the lightest of the household tasks, ones she could do
while seated. Beth made little protest; she seemed to have barely
enough energy to drag herself around the house.

Her moods swung between lethargy and
irritability, both of them uncharacteristic, and with lethargy
increasingly gaining the ascendancy. More and more often Beth chose
to stay indoors rather than go outside with David. Amy could see
that David was becoming anxious, and she did her best not to make
him more so. But Beth loved to be out on the farm with him, and to
see her unable to rouse the strength worried Amy more than anything
else.

Beth rose ponderously from the table and
carried a bowl of shelled peas to where Amy stood at the bench. As
she turned to go back, she stumbled and almost fell. Amy hurried to
her, and helped her back to her chair. She stood with an arm around
Beth’s shoulders until she saw her relax a little.

‘Was it the baby moving?’ Amy asked.

Beth shook her head. ‘No, it just went all
blurry for a bit, and I felt sort of dizzy. I had that yesterday as
well.’ She rubbed at her belly and grimaced. ‘It does hurt here,
though, like it’s digging into me. Is it going to be like this the
whole time?’

Amy hesitated before answering. ‘I don’t
really know, Beth,’ she said, choosing her words with care. ‘It’s
different every time. I had a lot more bother with Mal than with
Dave.’ And the worst time of all with Alexander, but she was
careful not to mention that pregnancy, with its sad ending.

She studied Beth’s face, puffy and swollen
as it was, and with threatened tears. ‘It might get easier nearer
your time, as the baby shifts. But I think you need to start
resting more. How about you go and have a lie-down?’

Without giving Beth the chance to argue, Amy
coaxed her upright and led her through to the bedroom. ‘I think you
should start having a lie-down every afternoon. Is that when things
hurt most?’

‘They hurt all the time,’ Beth said in a
small voice.

And it was only December. The hottest months
of summer were still to come, with Beth getting larger and more
uncomfortable every day. ‘Well, perhaps it won’t be as bad if you
keep the weight off your feet more,’ Amy said, trying to sound more
cheerful than she felt. ‘See if you can sleep for a bit. That
always helps.’ She kissed Beth’s cheek and went out, closing the
door behind her.

*

That Friday, Lizzie sent Danny to David’s
with a message, inviting them over for Sunday lunch if Beth felt up
to an outing. When they failed to appear on the Sunday, Lizzie
showed a lack of concern that only increased Frank’s annoyance.

‘Beth probably just felt like stopping in,’
said Lizzie. ‘She’s getting big now, she’s not going to feel like
going out much.’

‘She might have been too scared to ask him,’
Frank said darkly.

‘Oh, don’t talk rot. Who could be scared of
Dave? Benjy’s over his teething for now, you can take me over there
on Wednesday or Thursday and see her for yourself.’

Frank remained unconvinced. The following
Tuesday he was loading his empty cream cans back onto the spring
cart when he saw David bringing his own cart up to the factory.
Frank marched over, and accosted the boy as David swung down from
the front of the cart.

‘You were meant to bring Beth over for lunch
on Sunday,’ he said without preamble. ‘Why didn’t you turn up?’

‘Sorry, Uncle Frank. Beth didn’t feel well,
so we ended up staying home.’

An image of Beth, bruised and frightened,
rose in Frank’s imagination. ‘Didn’t feel well? What’s wrong with
her?’ he asked sharply.

He could see that David had caught his
implication. David opened his mouth as if to snap back an answer,
then turned away before speaking. ‘She just said she was too tired,
and she had a headache. She’s not the best today, either. I’ll
bring her over as soon as she feels up to it.’

‘You just see that you do, or I’ll have
something to say about it.’

Frank fully intended to follow through on
his warning, but he was not given the chance. Later that very
morning, the back door opened and Beth walked in, closely followed
by an anxious-looking David.

‘Beth!’ Lizzie said. ‘I didn’t expect you on
an ironing day.’

‘I’ve come to be inspected,’ Beth announced,
with a meaning look at her father.

‘Sit down,’ David urged. He dragged a chair
back from the table and took Beth’s arm to help her to it, but she
shook his hand off.

‘Don’t fuss. I’ve told you, I’m sick of
being fussed over.’

Frank saw dark rings under Beth’s eyes that
spoke of broken nights, and a tightness around her mouth quite
foreign to its familiar sweet expression. His guilty awareness that
he was the reason she had come out today did not improve his mood.
He found a target near at hand.

‘You didn’t need to bring her,’ he told
David. ‘You could have let her come on her own.’