Liverpool Love Song (28 page)

‘Oh lord!’ his secretary groaned. ‘He never stops.’

‘Today there’s help at hand.’ Maureen Gibbs went hastily to the cupboard again and pushed a new shorthand pad and a couple of pencils into Chloe’s hands. ‘We all muck in together here, and Mr Clitheroe is a good place for you to start. His letters are all short and to the point. Is that all right?’

‘Yes, fine.’

‘Oh, and Mr Bristow said I’m to be sure to introduce you, as he wasn’t in when you came on Friday.’

Chloe took a deep breath. This would be a nervous moment for anyone starting a new job. She had to prove she could do it.

‘This building is a bit of a warren,’ Maureen Gibbs said over her shoulder as they climbed stairs and hurried along dark corridors. ‘I hope you’ll be able to find your way back to us.’

Chloe tried to concentrate on where she was being taken. Miss Gibbs threw open a door and ushered her inside.

‘Mr Francis Clitheroe,’ she said, and then turned to him, ‘this is Miss Redwood, who will be taking my place when I go.’

Chloe raised her eyes to meet those of the man she’d recently doused with water. He was staring at her. She couldn’t stifle her groan of dismay, but she managed to move forward to shake the hand he offered. Maureen had things to tell him, and when she took her leave, it seemed he was ready to dictate. In a daze Chloe sat down on the chair he waved her to, opened the pad on the first page and grasped one of the pencils. Her hand was shaking. She felt she’d got off on the wrong foot.

Concentrate, she told herself sternly. You’ve got to get the shorthand right. You’ve got to produce clean and accurate letters for him, you mustn’t give him any reason to complain about your work. He must already think you’re a clumsy fool.

When the office door closed behind Chloe, Leo took a deep breath and leaned back in his executive leather chair. He’d made up his mind before taking up this job and becoming Francis Clitheroe that he’d form no close relationships with the staff; it wouldn’t be safe.

Until today he’d taken no interest in the girls, but Chloe Redwood was different. She seemed diffident; she’d looked at him shyly through her long lashes. She was a stunner and might be just his type. But he’d heard she was related to the boss, so he needed to stay well away from her.

He’d turned down the offer of going for a drink after work with the sales manager, Alan Bryant, pleading that he had other things he had to do, which was true. But he’d been unable to avoid walking to a local café at lunchtime with John Walsh, the production manager, to have a bowl of soup and a sandwich.

To his dismay, he’d found the other managers collected at a large table there. They didn’t all go every day, but there was always some of the staff there. Leo was running out of excuses to avoid going, but he couldn’t let it develop into a regular habit. He found it very hard work, keeping his ears open and a close watch on his tongue at the same time. It suited him better to go for a walk on his own and buy something to eat, or slip into some other café. He needed to switch off in his lunch hour.

He felt as though he’d been walking on eggshells since he’d started the job. He could never relax and let himself go. He’d had to keep his nerves on a tight rein; he was senior staff and had to show calm confidence at all times, even if he was dithering inside. He studied every letter addressed to the accountant, and thought through every reply before he dictated it. He went back to his lodging promptly at five o’clock to study accountancy in all its forms, but most of all the accounts of the previous year put together by Tom Cleary.

One of the first things Cleary had told him was that the company’s financial year had ended in December and that the accounts had been audited then. He saw that as a blessing. It gave him time to put his plans into action and be well away before the current year ended.

Leo felt cock-a-hoop. He’d managed the hard part; now he could concentrate on the fun part. He’d been working out how he could shift some of the company’s money into his own account, and now was the time to start doing it.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

D
URING THE DAYS THAT followed, Chloe settled in. She found the other girls welcoming and friendly; Lydia Tomlin never stopped talking. ‘I’m not keen on our new accountant,’ she told everybody. Chloe could see that he wasn’t popular with the other girls.

Only Clarice Parks said, ‘He’s only been working here for a short time, he hasn’t found his feet yet.’

‘He’s cold and stand-offish,’ Lydia said. ‘I’ve tried to be friendly but I’m wasting my time.’

‘He’s like a fish out of water,’ little red-haired Angela Smith said. ‘I don’t think he knows what he’s doing.’

‘He gives me the collywobbles.’ Rosemary McDonald was taller than he was. ‘He looks at me as though he’s afraid I’ll bite him.’

Chloe understood that; he made her feel uncomfortable too. Whenever she was with him, she could feel his dark eyes behind their heavy spectacles following every movement she made.

Uncle Walter said that he was very pleased with him; he worked hard and had taken to studying the accounts from previous years so he could get to know the business thoroughly.

Chloe, however, thought him dour. He conformed to what she thought a senior accountant should look like. He was not much more than her own height, and lightly built. His dark hair was neatly brushed back, his face was narrow and his forehead high. His heavy glasses seemed his most noticeable feature. He wore suits by Daks – her days at Owen Owens enabled her to distinguish between brands – smart shirts and always a silk tie and polished shoes.

One day he asked for somebody to take his letters when Lydia was down in the factory working for the production manager, so once again Chloe went along.

He had ready a heap of files on his desk. Opening them one by one, he dictated short letters in a flat, expressionless voice, then built another pile of files for her to take away with her. She was delighted to find she had no trouble keeping up with him.

When he’d finished, he pushed the files across his desk to Chloe. As she scooped them up in her arms, she heard something drop to the floor. She stooped to pick up a silver propelling pencil and couldn’t help but notice the initials LH engraved on it.

‘Is this yours?’

‘Yes.’

‘Very nice,’ she said, putting it back on his desk. His reaction surprised her; his thin face had gone white and stiff, and suddenly she could feel his tension. He was positively radiating it.

‘A special pencil?’

‘Very special.’ Mr Clitheroe was recovering. ‘It belonged to a friend of mine.’ Chloe thought him rather a strange person.

Uncle Walter dictated fewer but longer and more complicated letters, but she had no difficulty with them, as he stopped to think and spoke more slowly. He was paternalistic to all the staff and they couldn’t do enough for him. Chloe was trying to see him not only as her uncle but also as her boss. She thought that once she’d settled in and got to know what was expected of her, she’d be able to relax and be happy here.

Maureen Gibbs left, and Chloe heard a full report of her wedding from other members of staff. They each received a sliver of her wedding cake. Gradually Chloe was getting to know the people she worked with and picking up facts about them. Rosemary had a boyfriend who worked in the sales department. Lydia was engaged to a chemist. There was an undertow of gossip, of affairs between different members of staff, and on the whole they all got along in harmony.

Chloe began to enjoy their company and her busier days. She felt in control again, and that she could put her bad times behind her.

A few weeks later, Rex said to Helen as she brought two mugs of tea to a seat in the garden, ‘Chloe’s settled down, she seems happier.’

‘Yes, and so does Marigold. She was absolutely awful when she first came, and then when Chloe had to come home with her two I thought I’d made a big mistake and there’d be no peace for any of us.’

‘But it’s all worked out,’ Rex said. ‘You’ve settled down very nicely together.’

‘It’s the tranquillity of this garden.’ Helen sighed with pleasure and listened to a thrush singing in the oak tree behind them.

‘I think Marigold is happier because she now has some purpose in life.’

‘Who would have thought she’d take over responsibility for the kids like this?’ Helen asked. ‘She’s quite strict with them, and they’re good for her. Chloe was notified that Zac was due for vaccination, so she’s taken them to the clinic this afternoon. Goldie was used to looking after Gran, and now they’ve taken her place.’

‘But it’s changed our lives,’ Rex said gently. ‘I can’t have you to myself any more.’

‘I know, we’re both missing out. I can’t have you to spend the night with me.’

‘But that’s why I bought Newburn Cottage. So you could come to me.’

Helen put both hands to her face. ‘I feel a bit embarrassed about doing that. I tell them you’ve asked me out for dinner.’

‘Well usually I have, even if we eat at my house. You come for a few hours, but you never stay overnight with me. I miss that.’

‘So do I.’ There was a real weight of feeling in her voice. ‘But Marigold has a sharp tongue. There’d be no hiding it from her if I stayed out all night.’

She was looking up at him half dazzled by the sun. Rex felt a sudden surge of pure love for her sweep through him; it knocked him off balance. But why should it surprise him? He’d been making love to her regularly, it was impossible not to be drawn closer and closer to her. Helen was a warm and loving person; he knew her through and through and he didn’t want to be separated from her in this way.

‘We’re allowed to live as we please too,’ he said with a catch in his voice. ‘I love you, Helen. I want us to be together.’ He felt for her hand; she moved closer and rested her head against his shoulder. For years he’d been thinking of her as a friend, but what he felt for her went much deeper than friendship. It had grown slowly and steadily; he did truly love her.

‘Why don’t I book a table somewhere nice and then you can come back with me for the night?’ His voice shook. ‘Couldn’t you say to Marigold, I might be late tonight, or I might not come back at all, and then walk straight out before she or Chloe can say anything? It would be kinder that way, wouldn’t it? They won’t be worried if they find your bed hasn’t been slept in.’

She smiled, ‘You think of everybody’s feelings, Rex.’

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. ‘Helen, love …’ he was about to propose marriage. It was on the tip of his tongue but he felt her pulling away from him. He looked up to see Lucy heading across the grass to them, followed by Marigold with Zac in her arms.

‘I’ll do it,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ll stay overnight.’

That evening, Rex watched Helen’s car pull into his drive. He could see her triumphant mood as she came striding to his door, swinging her overnight bag.

‘I’ve done it,’ she giggled. ‘I’ve burned my boats. Why should I let my family stop me doing what I want?’

‘You shouldn’t. You bend over backwards to do your best for them.’

‘You should have seen Marigold’s face! It was a picture.’

Rex had booked a table at a new nightclub in town called the Red Balloon. It was quite dark and had an intimate atmosphere. The music wasn’t loud, but it had a beat that throbbed and there was a small dance floor. He ordered a bottle of champagne. Everything was going their way at the moment; they were in high spirits and they had reason to celebrate.

The floor show started as their first course came to the table. The food was excellent and dancing began again as they finished their chocolate mousse. They took their time over everything and were quite late going home.

Rex knew that Helen was as happy and relaxed as he was. He kissed her as he closed the front door behind them, then hung their coats up downstairs and took her by the hand to lead her to his bedroom. She’d been here many times over the last months, but as she always wanted to be home by midnight, they never seemed to have enough time. He always drove her home afterwards, which meant he couldn’t relax with her in his arms. Tonight he was looking forward to that.

Helen was unbuttoning his shirt; she knew how to get him in the right mood. ‘It doesn’t matter what Marigold thinks,’ he whispered.

‘Or Chloe,’ she said, putting up her lips for a kiss. He pulled her into a close hug to push the image of Chloe out of his mind. Tonight he only had thoughts for Helen.

He slipped her blouse off her shoulders. ‘You’ve got a lovely figure, something to be proud of.’ He reached both arms round her to unclip her bra. She had a slim waist, a flat tummy, and she’d not put on much weight over the years.

He was running his fingers over her soft body, trying to give her the same joy she gave him. He stroked her nipple and felt her sensuous flesh beneath his fingers, heard her sigh of pleasure. He stopped abruptly. Something felt wrong.

‘What is it?’ she murmured in his ear.

He put his head down on her breast. Surely it couldn’t be? He needed to unwind, to think calmly about this. But Helen wouldn’t let him. She was nuzzling against him, showing him she didn’t want him to stop. He didn’t need a second invitation. In the heat of that moment he forgot everything else. Helen knew how to make love.

In the warm aftermath they lay together silent and still. It was ten minutes later when he felt again gently down the side of her right breast, this time with no trace of passion.

She lifted his head. ‘Is something the matter?’

‘I don’t know.’ He took her hand and with it covered the same area round her breast and under her arm. ‘Can you feel anything?’

She sat up with a jerk. ‘A lump? Is it a lump?’

He felt again carefully. ‘It feels lumpy, doesn’t it? But it might not be of any importance.’

He couldn’t see her in the darkness, but he knew that had changed everything. She put her arms round his neck and pulled him close. ‘I’m frightened. It could be cancer. It’s quite a big lump. Why haven’t I felt it before? I never have.’