Megan of Merseyside (35 page)

‘I’m sending a new driver so do you think you could let me know as soon as you’ve taken delivery,’ she asked before she replaced the receiver.

She tried not to think about Sandy Willis for the rest of the afternoon, but as five o’clock approached she became edgy and she was more than relieved when the call came through to say the load had arrived.

In the next few months she took on two more freelance drivers: Jock MacDonald, a dour Scotsman who said very little but was a steady, reliable worker; and Fred Greenford, a back-slapping jovial character whose idea of a good time was going for a ‘bevvy’ or a ‘nosh’.

Megan was kept so busy that she knew she would have to take on someone to help in the office. Robert agreed with her wholeheartedly. ‘You can’t go on for ever working ten hours a day or you’ll crack up,’ he told her. ‘You didn’t even get away for a holiday in the summer.’

‘Neither did you!’

‘Only because you kept us all working so hard that I couldn’t take any time off.’ He grinned.

‘Am I really such a slave driver?’

‘You certainly expect everyone to have the same energy and enthusiasm as you have. Your father looks worn out … He didn’t get a break either!’

‘He will next year, I promise. My New Year’s resolution is to send him and Mam off on a holiday.’

‘Is that your only resolution?’ he asked softly.

‘For the moment … except to treat you better. I might even consider letting you have a few days off to go on that walking holiday you put off for my benefit,’ she promised.

He drew in his breath sharply. ‘And would you come with me?’ he asked, looking straight at her.

She picked up her desk diary. ‘Was there any particular date you wanted, Robert?’ she asked, struggling to keep her voice level.

He shrugged. ‘Forget it! Let’s get on with running the business … that’s what really matters to you, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, at the moment it is,’ Megan said, ignoring his jibe. ‘I’m worried about what effect the Wall Street Crash in America last October is going to have on shipping. It’s causing consternation throughout the world so it’s bound to make a difference to our business.’

In that, Megan was right. Lifestyles changed overnight. The dockers were dismayed because the shipping on both sides of the Mersey, south and north, and the river itself, seemed to come to a standstill. Ships lay at anchor right out to the Bar as the Port of Liverpool ground to a halt. Cargo boats jammed Gladstone, Canning, Canada and all the other docks.

When she had first started her own company,
the
men on the quayside were full of admiration for her pluck in setting herself up in business. Now, the very same men suddenly seemed to turn against her because she was doling out work in as fair a way as she could instead of letting them adopt a ‘first come first to get the job’ system.

‘Wouldn’t fancy having a woman boss,’ one of them told Sandy Willis.

‘Yer talking daft, whacker! It’s no different to having a man,’ defended Sandy loyally.

‘Hen-pecked, that’s what you lot are. Working for a woman, having to do whatever she says.’

‘What the hell you on about?’ growled Jock, his massive fist curling and uncurling with anger. ‘We’re partners, we pull together as a team, which is more than you bloody lot do. Megan doesn’t give us orders, not in the way you mean.’

‘Bet she creams off all the best jobs for her old man and her fancy man, Robert Field,’ taunted the docker.

Contact between Jock’s fist and the speaker’s jaw cut short any further observations. The scuffle that followed brought the police onto the scene. They didn’t press charges. There were far too many hot-headed squabbles for them to take them seriously, unless someone was badly hurt.

As the months merged into one another, Megan found it increasingly difficult to keep her drivers busy. She shared the loads out on a strict rota basis, but even so none of them wanted to look for employment elsewhere.

‘You’ve spoiled us, Megan,’ laughed Sandy. ‘We’re used to big pay packets so the sort of wages
we’d
get working as a driver for anyone else would seem like chicken feed.’

‘Yes, that’s probably true,’ she agreed, ‘but it only applies when there is work coming in.’

‘Most of us have a bit put by to fall back on the weeks when it doesn’t,’ affirmed Fred. ‘Got to be prepared to take the rough with the smooth, you know,’ he added philosophically. ‘That’s what you told us when we joined you and so far you’ve always kept to your word.’

Jock MacDonald was the one who was really worried. He had a wife and three children and only one wage packet coming into the house and no savings to fall back on. He said very little but his dour look and taciturn manner told their own story.

When, after two weeks of no movement, a single lorry was needed to carry a load to South Wales, his dismay was obvious to everyone when he realised that he was second on the list.

‘I’ve promised to take me Judy out tonight,’ Sandy groaned when Megan allocated the job to him. ‘Do you think Jock would do the run instead of me?’

‘You’d better ask him.’ She looked across at Jock quizzically, although she knew full well that he would jump at the chance. She also suspected that Sandy had dreamed up the excuse so that Jock could have the work.

‘Will things ever get back to normal?’ she said with a sigh when Robert called into her office later that morning.

‘At the moment they’re getting worse. There’s
another
crisis looming, this time over Sterling,’ he told her gloomily.

She walked over to the door and stood there staring out. It was a hot, sultry July day and the tiny office was like an oven.

‘Why don’t you take advantage of the fact that trade is slow and take a break from it all?’ suggested Robert, his gaze taking in the weariness etched on Megan’s face and the lassitude of her manner.

‘I can’t afford to,’ Megan told him with a pathetic shrug. ‘You can bet your life if I closed the office, even for a few days, we’d miss out on some important orders,’ she added in a strained, querulous voice.

‘You don’t have to close it. Things are pretty slack at the moment, you said so yourself, so why not let your father run things here while you have a holiday before you have a breakdown?’ he went on, pressing home his advantage.

The silent motion of her head showed her acceptance of his suggestion.

‘Let’s both have a week off. I never did get my walking holiday in Wales,’ he added cautiously. ‘I quite fancy the idea of taking it right now, while the hot weather holds, so why don’t you come along with me, Megan?’

For a moment he was sure she was going to refuse. He held his breath as she walked back to her desk and flicked through the booking diary.

‘Nothing … we haven’t a single booking for the next two weeks!’ She walked over to the movement chart pinned up on the wall. ‘Blanks … nothing but blanks.’

‘So it’s the right time to take a holiday,’ urged Robert. ‘Your father will be here. It would be a boost for his ego to know you trusted him enough to leave him in charge.’

Chapter Thirty-six

AS THEY SET
out for Wales, Megan’s mind was full of the problems she was leaving behind. She wasn’t at all confident that her father could cope with running the office while she was away and look after her mother at the same time.

Perhaps they should have been the ones to be going on holiday, not me, she thought guiltily, knowing how depressed her mother was. If only she would go out more, or even invite some of the neighbours in now and again for a cup of tea, I’m sure she’d be a lot happier, Megan mused.

She was at a loss to understand how her mother did spend her day. Often when she got home at night the breakfast dishes would still be on the draining board and the beds unmade. Sometimes there was food in the house, sometimes not.

Her mother had no set routine for any of the household chores, and Megan found a great deal of her own time taken up at weekends with the washing, ironing and general cleaning.

Remembering how organised things had been when Vi Brown had been helping out, both she and her father had suggested several times that they should get someone in to do the housework, but her mother refused even to consider the idea.

Robert concentrated on the road ahead. He had
been
more than delighted that Megan had agreed to come away on holiday, but he was afraid to attach too much importance on what it meant in regard to their relationship.

Everything had been done on the spur of the moment. There had been no time to talk things through. He had simply checked over his car and packed some clothes, anxious to make a start before Megan could change her mind.

They would only be away for five days since Megan had insisted that they must be back home by the weekend so that she could pay the drivers herself. He hadn’t argued. Five days on their own was more than he had hoped for and could provide the opportunity he needed.

He found the uncertainty of not knowing whether Megan cared for him or not unbearable and was determined before the holiday was over to settle the question once and for all. If there was absolutely no hope of her ever marrying him, it might be best if he went back to sea and tried to forget all that she meant to him.

As they crossed into Wales at Queensferry, Megan closed her eyes in an attempt to ignore the surrounding countryside and its past associations with the Walkers. It was some time before she realised that Robert had taken a different route, one that took them south through Ruthin to join the A5.

The sheer relief of discovering they wouldn’t be going anywhere near Mostyn or Holywell helped her to unwind. By the time they stopped for lunch at Betws-y-Coed, her face had lost its tense, strained look and she had started to enjoy herself.

The picturesque little town nestling among tree-clad hills was packed with holiday-makers. They thronged the cafés and browsed in the countless gift shops that lined the main street, giving the place a carnival atmosphere.

‘Perhaps we should drive on and see if we can find a pub on the outskirts of the town,’ Robert suggested.

‘It’s one o’clock, we must eat soon, I’m starving,’ Megan protested. ‘Anyway,’ she said with a smile, ‘I like it here.’

‘It’s a pretty spot, I’ll grant you that,’ Robert agreed.

They lunched rather splendidly at the Gwyndyr Hotel. ‘Shall we have a walk round before we get back into the car?’ suggested Robert when they were finally ready to leave. ‘I haven’t eaten such a big meal at midday for years.’

As they emerged once more into the main street, the July sun was beating down, enveloping them in a shower of golden warmth as they strolled along, replete and content.

‘The name of this bridge is
Pont-y-Pair
which means “the bridge of the Cauldron”,’ Megan told him as they paused entranced by the miniature cataract that formed as water fell onto the jagged rocks on the river bed.

‘The local beauty spot, is it?’

‘One of them. Swallow Falls is much more impressive. Do you want to go there? We could walk, it’s only about two miles.’

‘In this heat!’ Robert’s eyebrows went up in mock alarm.

‘No, you’re probably right,’ she agreed with a laugh. ‘We’re not all that far from Beddgelert so shall we drive on then and stay there overnight?’

Megan was on familiar ground now and her pleasure and excitement increased. To her, the sky was more blue, the grass greener, the air more sweet.

When they reached Beddgelert, she insisted that they should sit for a while on the old stone bridge that spanned the river while she pointed out landmarks she remembered so well.

‘Separate rooms or are we sharing?’ Robert questioned when they finally decided it was time they arranged some accommodation.

‘Robert, I’m surprised you should even ask such a question!’

The annoyance in her voice startled him and he silently cursed himself for his flippancy.

The moment she had made her cutting response, Megan regretted doing so. Why on earth hadn’t she treated it as a joke instead of taking offence and snapping his head off? she thought guiltily. Her mother was right, she did treat Robert badly. No one could have been a more devoted friend. While she had been building up the business he had almost become her alter ego; someone she depended on for advice, and who could be relied on to boost her morale when things seemed to be going wrong.

Yet he had never once tried to usurp her authority, or claim any of the glory when things turned out well. He had backed her all the way, solid and reliable; a shoulder to lean on, the force behind her every move.

He was so resourceful that she wondered why he had never started his own business instead of using his talents to promote hers.

When she introduced Robert to Jennie Jones and Gwyneth Evans and saw the admiration in their eyes, her face flushed with pride. She studied Robert’s strong, serious profile, seeing him as other people must do. Mid-thirties, good-looking with a strong square jaw and firm mouth, clear-eyed and powerfully built: she felt proud he was her friend.

She found herself remembering back to when she’d first arrived on Merseyside, and the way Robert had consistently brought her small gifts. He’d never failed to buy her lavish presents at Christmas and on her birthday, and countless times he had taken her out for a meal or dancing. She even found herself contemplating how different her life might have been had she married him.

That evening, as they lingered over their meal, talking about the day’s happenings, Megan was suddenly aware of his physical presence. When their hands touched as Robert passed her another glass of wine she pulled back quickly, aware of a tingling sense of excitement. It unsettled her.

After his silly joke, Robert had decided to play it cool and keep his distance. For all that he was enjoying her company and he too felt acutely aware of their physical proximity. The opportunity to have her complete attention without her parents, one of the drivers, or the shrill of the telephone bell interrupting them was a bonus in itself.

For the entire five days of their holiday the weather was superbly warm and sunny and they
explored
the surrounding countryside as avidly as any tourists.