Paper Doll (7 page)

Latham shrugged. ‘Wouldn’t you prefer a younger woman? There are twenty-two years between us to be exact. As you know I’m a self-made man. I would like a family. It didn’t bother me much before. When I was busy making my fortune, having a child wasn’t quite so important, and Annie was beginning to think she was barren. That’s why she was going back to America . . . to see a specialist. Now I’ve reached middle-age and would like children of my own. Hopefully I will still have some time to watch them grow up. I can give Julia every luxury a woman needs.’

‘I see. Julia doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to be wed.’

They fell quiet when the maid came in with the tray. When the door closed behind her Latham said, ‘Perhaps a little encouragement from you might be in order. Truthfully, would you object to such a marriage, or me fathering your grandchildren?’

‘From a personal perspective I don’t dislike you, Latham, but I would prefer someone younger for Julia.’

Latham deflected the conversation. ‘It seems to me that she’s used to the company of more mature men. Besides which, the best of this generation didn’t survive the war. In this country alone over 650,000 men died. God knows how many more were damaged beyond repair.’

They sipped at their coffee, contemplating the figure with some awe, as well as sorrow.

Latham replaced his cup in the saucer. ‘The truth is, eligible men are in short supply and women are a little desperate. I could take my pick from a dozen women tomorrow. I imagine you could, as well.’

Benjamin chuckled at the thought. ‘I’m too old for this fast generation. They wear me out. Why Julia?’

‘In whatever guise they appear, I do know the difference between a trollop and a lady. I have a great affection for your daughter, Benjamin. She conducts herself well, and in a manner that does you credit. I can say no more than that.’

Latham could have said more, but it would have shocked Benjamin. He wasn’t too proud to admit to himself that he lusted after Julia in a way he’d never lusted after any other woman, not even his late wife. Even in her naivety there was an air of self-possession about Julia, a coolness that kept people at arm’s length.

Latham was a self-made man. He’d been ruthless at going after what he wanted, and had learned the power that came with wealth. He wanted Julia Howard, body and soul. She was everything he wanted in a wife, and the need to possess her was strong. He’d buy her if he had to.

‘But my daughter has younger friends. Why would she want to marry you?’

Latham didn’t allow his amusement to show. ‘Youth doesn’t always equate with marital bliss. Her friends are a fast crowd, too fast for your daughter, who is hovering on the edges of their society. She’ll soon be dragged in, if the Curruthers girl has her way. Irene’s private life leaves much to be desired; being a slut is part of her nature. Her brother Charles is a rogue of the first water. He’s a disgrace to his parents and I’m surprised he hasn’t been sent down permanently. I doubt if he’ll ever marry . . . if he does it will be out of duty, and I’ll pity his wife.’

‘I’ve heard he’s doing well in his studies.’

‘Oh, Charles Curruthers doesn’t
study
anything. He has a brilliant brain, and loads of charm, I’ll grant you that. However, he’s lacking in both common sense and self-discipline, so his personal life leaves much to be desired. He’ll be burned out by the time he’s thirty, mark my words. There’s a strong possibility that Irene and Charles Curruthers will lead Julia astray, you know.’

Benjamin’s expression said he didn’t welcome being reminded of his family responsibilities, and he blustered, ‘I trust my daughter.’

‘So you should because she’s a girl who does you proud. But like the rest of us, she’s only human. I’m trying to do this the right way by asking your permission to court her.’

‘I can’t tell her who to see and who not to see, Latham. Julia is of an age to run her own life so you must sink or swim on your own merits as far as she’s concerned.’

Latham sensed the reluctance in Benjamin. There was a vast difference in attitude between those born to wealth – even if it hadn’t stuck to their fingers – and those who’d earned their own. ‘But you could put in a word for me. She listens to you. I’ll watch out for her at the weekend, so you won’t have to worry.’

Benjamin sighed. ‘I’d be grateful if you would, but I won’t endorse you, or anyone else as a suitor. Julia must make her own mind up to that.’

‘Fair enough.’ Latham snapped the lid to the box shut and placed it back on the table. ‘I have nobody else I’d care to give this to. I bought it because it matched your daughter’s eyes. Tell her I refused to accept it back.’

‘You can’t refuse.’

‘Yes I can. If she’s old enough to run her own life, then she’s old enough to hand it back to me herself, not hide behind you.’ Standing, he smiled down at his prospective father-in-law. ‘Think it over. On the day Julia marries me, not only will I pay you the price you want for your business and agree to your terms, I’ll also give you enough shares in my enterprises to ensure that you enjoy your retirement, and have a decent amount left over as a legacy for Julia.’

The man’s eyelids flickered. ‘You’re trying to buy her.’

‘I didn’t get where I am by taking no for an answer. Like you say, it’s up to Julia. I’m just telling you what to expect if she accepts me. Where did you say she’d gone?’

The old man’s eyes met his, and there was a malicious amusement in them. ‘I didn’t say, but she’s with Lee-Trafford. They’ve taken my car to Hampshire to bring back some of his furnishings and to put the rest in storage. They may stay there overnight.’

‘You trust him with her . . . a man who’s suffered a mental breakdown?’

‘Actually, Latham, I’d be more liable to trust Lee-Trafford with her than I would you. By his own admission he might not be quite the man he used to be, but I do know he’s a gentleman – and a bloody good man all the same.’

Ah, it was like that for Lee-Trafford, was it? Latham thought, smiling as he let himself out. Lee-Trafford was no competition then, the poor bugger.

‘We’re not going to finish this and get back to London tonight. I’ll ring my father and tell him we’ll be staying over, so he doesn’t worry. Is the telephone still connected?’

‘It should be. Would you like me to ring him? I can book you into a hotel if you’d like.’

Julia smiled. ‘Nonsense, no self-respecting hotel would accept me looking as dusty as a tramp. You neither,’ and she gazed around the spacious sitting room. ‘It’s warm in here now you’ve lit the fire. I’ll wrap myself in the eiderdown and sleep on the couch.’

He had to admit that they were both looking a little dusty now. Her outfit was practical enough though, he thought.

Earlier, she’d come down the steps from the apartment block wrapped in a fur coat. Under it was a rather clownish, but charming outfit, a pair of grey slacks with a loose flared ruby tunic over the top. She’d beamed a smile at him. ‘How dashing you look behind the wheel.’

Two of the staff from the kitchens had come out after her carrying a picnic basket apiece. They placed them on the back seat.

‘Thank you . . . so kind,’ she said to them, impressing Martin with her grace and good manners.

He’d abandoned his
dashing
position behind the wheel and had helped her into the passenger seat. ‘It’s rather a lot of food, isn’t it?’

‘Not at all, the car might break down in the New Forest, and we might need it. Now don’t go all growly on me before we start, else I won’t speak to you for the entire journey.’

‘That might prove to be a blessing,’ he’d countered, smiling at her so she wouldn’t take offence.

‘It most certainly will not, since there would then be an atmosphere of ill-will and you’d be obliged to humour me, in case I boxed your ears.’

He burst into laughter. ‘Or the other way round.’

She’d grinned, revealing an enchanting little dimple to the left of her mouth.

There hadn’t been a cross word exchanged all day, just plenty of banter, and although there had been silences between them too, they’d been relaxed.

They were upstairs now. The gaslights gave off a jaundiced glow. From the second storey there was a view during the day of the English Channel, which was an uninviting pewter colour at this time of year. The expanse of dark water was scribbled with a thread of light tying the moon to the earth as it journeyed from behind one cloud to the next. It looked chilly outside and Martin shivered. France was only a few miles across the water.

She broke into his unwelcome thought by drawing the curtains across the window. ‘You’re flagging. We’ve done enough for today, I think.’

He turned to smile at her, at the smudges of dust on her translucent cheeks. Reaching out he tried to brush one away, but only succeeded in smudging it more. ‘Your face needs washing,’ he said. ‘Are you hungry? We should get something to eat.’

They went downstairs and he gave in to an urge to slide down the banister, as he used to when he was a child. It didn’t seem quite as lengthy as he remembered from his youth. He went too fast and staggered backwards as he shot off the end, ending up sprawled on his backside.

She gave into her amusement, flinging a dollop of scornful laughter his way. ‘That serves you right for showing off. Do grow up, Mr Lee-Trafford.’ She then collapsed into giggles, making it almost impossible for him to restore his former dignity.

‘Investigate that second picnic basket, would you,’ she said now. ‘There should be two dinners ready to warm up in the oven. I do hope you like roast lamb, mashed potatoes, peas and carrots. The gravy is in a flask, and there’s an apple tart and a container of custard to be warmed. We can keep the fresh fruit, hard-boiled eggs and bread for breakfast. We’ll have to have lunch on the way home tomorrow. Country pubs are not quite so fussy as restaurants, and they’ll think that we’re farmhands.’

Anyone who looked least like a farmhand he’d yet to meet. He admitted that he hadn’t met any though, just taken it for granted that they existed. He followed her into the sitting room and stoked up the fire, adding more coal before setting the guard in front of it. ‘I’ve never seen a farmhand in a fur coat before. Usually it’s the plough horse that wears one.’

‘The last horse I saw wore a hair coat. Cows wear . . . hides.’

He snorted. ‘That’s stretching it a bit.’

‘And before you mention sheep, they wear woolly coats.’

‘I was going to say rabbits when you allowed me to get a word in edgewise.’

‘You’re just being aggravating and I won’t dignify that with a retort . . . mainly because I can’t think of one except that this coat is not lapin, it’s silver fox and it belonged to my mother. As a punishment you can cook dinner.’

‘And to think I complained about two picnic baskets. You’re a genius.’

‘Oh, men rarely plan ahead, they just think they know better than women. Go and make yourself useful. I’m hungry, and I’m going to ring my father.’

The cushion he threw at her skimmed past her head as she gave a timely stoop to pick up the receiver. When Martin reached the kitchen he heard her say, ‘Hello, Daddy, it’s too late to drive back so we’ll be staying the night here and will probably leave about lunchtime tomorrow. I didn’t want you to be alarmed, and I’ll ring you just before we set out tomorrow.’

There was a pause, then she laughed. ‘Of course not, we’re getting along famously, almost like brother and sister . . . No, we haven’t walked along the pier, we haven’t had time, we’ve been working. Now we’re going to have dinner, and I daresay we’ll find something else to pack into a suitcase before it’s bedtime.’

There was a bottle of white wine to go with their dinner, and he poured them a glass while they waited for the contents of the picnic basket to warm.

Martin set the kitchen table with the cutlery and napkins from the picnic basket, then he placed a candle in a saucer. Julia had thought of everything, which was more than he had. Just as he put a match to the gas oven and slid the dishes inside to warm, he remembered his train set in the attic.

The boxes for storage had been picked up earlier. Anything else would have to fit into the car, or be left behind. He was loath to leave it, but remembered that the landscape did come apart. He recalled that there was a box for the train and rails.

He asked her about it over dinner. ‘Do you think anything else will fit into the car? My train set is in the attic.’

‘We’ll make it fit. It’s surprising how much can be packed into small spaces if it’s done right. We’ll have an empty picnic basket to start with.’

‘I’m not worried about the train set fitting in when it’s boxed, but the landscaping might be a problem. The sections can be unscrewed though.’

‘We’ll have a look at it after dinner.’

They did. The train set was covered in a dustsheet. Next to it was the old wooden chair his father used to use. On the bamboo table resided a cup with a tea-stained tidemark. Next to that his father’s rosewood pipe leaned sideways into the dip of the ashtray. The burned baccy formed a dusty landslide from the bowl. A whistle lay abandoned.

Lifting off the dustsheet Martin gazed at this other world his father had created for him, and the punch to the heart he experienced was unexpected and almost overwhelming.

The train stood at the station, where it had waited since his father’s death. The porter on the station had his trolley. The plump woman with rosy cheeks and the same baby in her arms was just behind him. Elsie Carter they’d named her. Up on the hills the same sheep and cows grazed peacefully on the same painted grass.

Something was different about it though. He gazed down at it, the blood pounding in his ears when he spied the extra figures. One stood on the platform near an open carriage door. He was wearing an army uniform. The other one stood on the bridge, waving a handkerchief.

He choked back a sob and turned away, trying to collect himself as he looked for the box to pack it in.

‘Martin, are you all right?’ she said, and gently touched his arm.

He’d forgotten she was there. ‘I’m sorry . . . I’ll be all right in a minute.’

‘I wonder if it still works.’ Behind him, Julia wound the engine clockworks. He heard the faint metallic clunk of the signal from red to green and then the sound of the whistle being blown. The train was set in motion.