A Million Tears (39 page)

Evan said to Meg, ‘Are you all right?’

She nodded. Evan took out his handkerchief and wiped a smudge of blood from her cheek. She winced. ‘Ouch,’ she tried to smile and put her hand to her face. ‘That hurts a little but my eye hurts even more.’

‘Are you all right, Uncle James?’ Meg asked, taking my arm. ‘We’re a right pair aren’t we? Are we going back to the hotel or what?’

Evan decided we should go to the Grapevine. It had a beautiful lounge area and was now accepted by many of the ladies of the community. ‘It’s just the place for a post-political meeting,’ he said, ‘and it’s around the corner from here. We’d better hurry, otherwise it’ll be packed.’

Meg interrupted me with a little scream. ‘Look,’ she waved her left hand under my nose, ‘the nail is broken. And what’s that under my nails?’ She picked at her nails with her thumb.

I looked closer. ‘I’d better not tell you until you’ve got your drink.’

‘Why not?’ Meg put her hand closer to her eyes. ‘Is . . . is that . . .’

‘Afraid so. It’s skin – no doubt clawed from some deserving fellow’s face,’ I laughed at the look of horror on her face. ‘You . . . you women. You fight tooth and nail and then can’t stand the gore afterwards.’

I took out my pocket knife. Among its many features was a file which I opened for her. Wordlessly, she took it just as Evan returned with the drinks. The evening passed quickly. People joined and left our table, very excited and highly charged, as the events at the theatre and Bryan’s speech were analysed in detail.

The speech by Bryan was not reported in the newspapers though it became one of his most famous. Bryan was now well established in his attempt to get to the White House.

The boys and I went to New Orleans that summer. Our journey was everything I hoped it would be. We hired a buggy for a few days and explored along the coast, staying at small hotels and inns. There were beautiful beaches, warm sun, long walks and the deep, deep blue of the Gulf of Mexico. The three of us tried various sea foods though I did tend to stay with the more traditional type of fish but the boys ate everything from prawns to lobster. I, and I think the boys too, regretted having to leave and return to St Louis. We arrived back thirty two days after we had left.

Business was picking up again and Evan decided it was now time to find bigger premises. We were in the study discussing the problem after dinner on a rain-filled night in October.

‘We’ve established the fact we can’t extend,’ said Meg, ‘because there’s not enough room behind the present warehouse. We haven’t been able to find other premises big enough for what we want, so that leaves only one thing to do.’

‘Two,’ I said. ‘The first is to build a warehouse to our specifications and the other is to open a second place.’

‘The trouble with opening a second place,’ said Meg, ‘is that we offer a large variety of goods all in one warehouse, and that’s one of the reasons we’re so popular. If we have two premises, say food in one and other stocks in the other, it’ll lessen our attraction.’

‘I think you’re right,’ said Evan. ‘We’ll also need a larger staff to run separate places instead of one big one and then there’s the cost of heating, electricity, transportation and so on.’

I got up to refill my glass. ‘To build a place would be expensive, wouldn’t it?’ I asked.

‘Yes, particularly with so many empty buildings around. It’s just a case of finding the right one,’ said Evan. ‘I suppose we’d better go on looking. Here, Uncle James, catch.’ He threw his cut glass whisky goblet to me. I managed to catch it as Meg gave a gasp of horror. They were her best glasses, her pride and joy.

‘Evan,’ she leaned over and poked him in the ribs. ‘I’ll kill you if you break one of them.’ All she got for her pains was a big grin.

‘It’s a pity that place on the corner isn’t next door to us,’ I said, handing the glass back to Evan. ‘I know it’s a bit of a hole but we could have used it.’

‘I’ve had an idea . . .’ began Meg. ‘We’re separated from that corner building by one building. Now, the place next to us bricked up their rear windows a couple of years back because of the break-ins they were having. And they don’t use that strip of land anymore. Well then, why don’t we buy the empty building and connect it to our place by a corridor? I’m sure it would work if we could buy enough of the land from next door at a reasonable price.’

‘I like that,’ said Evan. ‘It’ll still be two places so overheads will be high but the customers will have the illusion that it’s all one place. Do either of you know the new man that has next door?’

Meg and I shook our heads. ‘I only know he’s an importer and exporter and moved in from another part of town two months ago,’ I said.

‘The building strikes me as being a bit seedy though,’ said Meg. ‘It’s been empty for about two years now.’

‘True. But as long as no major repairs are required it should only need internal alterations and a paint job,’ said Evan. ‘I’ve also been thinking we’ll need another manager, subordinate to Sonny of course, but in charge of his own departments.’

‘You’re not thinking of Frank, are you?’ asked Meg.

Evan shook his head. ‘No, he’s a good man but not suitable for something like that. In fact, I don’t think we have anybody who is. Not at the moment. It’ll mean hiring somebody new. Anyway, it’s something to think about,’ he drained his glass and stood up. ‘I’m for bed.’

I went into town with Meg on Monday morning after the boys had left for school. David was now in his last year and was trying for a place in university, a thought that pleased Meg.

When we arrived at the warehouse Meg was busy with some paperwork for a few hours so I wandered around chewing the fat with Frank, Mac and the others. Although it wasn’t much past nine o’clock, there were already quite a few customers, pulling or pushing the little flat cars Evan and Sonny had designed. Afterwards, I got myself a coffee and went to sit in Evan’s empty office.

I was lost in nostalgic thoughts of Wales and Sian and that dreadful day when the slag heap buried the school when Evan came in for his coat. I joined him and Meg and together we went to look at the empty building. Evan had located the owners and sent Sonny for a key earlier in the morning. Apparently they had been eager to give it to him.

Although it was a windy day with bits of rubbish swirling along the road at least it was not raining, for which I was grateful. The rain always brought on my rheumatics which seemed to get worse every winter.

Evan unlocked a small door, inset in a large double door and we entered. Inside it was gloomy and dank, smelling of disuse. I lit the oil lamp I had brought with us. The windows were boarded over and light only penetrated in thin strips of white across the dusty floor. Meg started when three or four rats ran straight across the concrete floor. The building was a shell of four walls and a roof, about half the floor area of our present place but about one and a half times higher.

Over coffee we decided that we would try and buy the place. There was now only one thing to take care of. We needed to persuade the company next door to sell us some of their land at the back, so that we could build our corridor. None of us envisaged any problems, as they no longer had access to the back having bricked up the doors as well as the windows.

Behind the empty warehouse was an area of waste ground where buckboards and wagons could load and unload. It was about one hundred feet long and about seventy feet wide and surrounded by a brick wall. Access to the area was through two gateways in opposite corners where the buildings and wall met.

I went with Evan next door. The offices were on the ground floor, just inside the entrance. A secretary asked us to wait while she saw if Mr Boothroyd, the owner, was free.

‘He’ll not keep you waiting long,’ she came back with a smile. ‘In the meantime can I get you some coffee?’ She was a nice homely person of about forty.

We declined the offer with thanks. The office was small with a desk near a corner oil heater which threw out insufficient heat to keep the place warm. A filing cabinet stood in another corner and a threadbare strip of carpet in front of the desk. There were two hard backed chairs for visitors. If business was profitable then Boothroyd was not investing his profits in the decor nor for the comfort of his staff. I wriggled on the chair, not trying to be comfortable only trying to stop being uncomfortable. After about ten minutes a florid faced gentleman, big and running to fat, in a large checked suit, threw open the door opposite us.

‘Ah . . . Mr Griffiths, I believe,’ he walked towards me, his hand outstretched, a beaming smile on his double chinned face.

‘I’m Griffiths,’ said Evan, intercepting the hand.

‘Oh, well, do come in, do come in,’ he repeated as he ushered us into his office. I thought for a second I had strayed into another company and looked back at the mean little office we had just left. The room we were now in was large, one wall lined with leather bound books, another with an open fire place. A couple of over stuffed armchairs and a mammoth desk dominated the room. My initial impression, that I was not going to like Boothroyd, was confirmed.

‘Of course you will,’ said Boothroyd. ‘It’s specially imported from the Indies and I tell you it’s delicious. Just wait until you try it. Sit down, sit down.’ He waved at the leather chairs in front of his desk while he went behind. ‘Now gentlemen, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?’

He broke off when his secretary reappeared carrying a tray bearing coffee. ‘Put it here, put it here,’ he said fussily, sweeping some papers to one side. ‘Gladys,’ he chuckled, ‘these gentlemen want to buy the land out back, have you ever heard of such a thing? After what I was saying about expanding out there?’

‘But . . .’ she abruptly stopped. Boothroyd was glowering at her and she hurriedly turned and rushed out. Evan and I pretended not to have noticed her little error, but it was interesting. Very interesting.

Boothroyd fussed further, pouring the coffee, adding cream and four heaped spoonfuls of sugar to his own. I took mine with cream, Evan ignored his.

‘Tell me, Mr Boothroyd, is that your final word? There is no possibility of negotiating?’

‘Hmmm? Oh, there’s always that, always that. Are you Irish, Mr Griffiths? I’ve been trying to place your accent.’

‘No, I’m Welsh. I’m prepared to pay the current market price for the land,’ said Evan, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair. I think he realised this was going to be a long session.

‘Welsh, are you? I would never have thought so, well, well, well. The current market price? I don’t think so, Mr Griffiths. I believe the market will be on the way up shortly – so I’d be stupid to sell now, wouldn’t I? Also of course, the area I have is small and wouldn’t be worth much at the price per square foot. Are you Welsh too, Mr Price? It is Price, isn’t it?’

I nodded, so he had known who we were all the time. Then why the charade of offering me his hand and calling me Mr. Griffiths. I had the feeling that Boothroyd liked playing silly games. I was aware of Evan’s attempt to control his temper, though I could not blame him for getting angry. I would have been angry too if I had been younger. I had just learned a degree more tolerance now I was one of the older generation.

‘Mr Boothroyd, for you to be able to sell that bit of land you need a buyer. I’m the only one in the market so no matter to what height the value of land rises it’s no good to you without me. How much do you own out there?’

‘All that’s along my wall naturally, and extending to the wall. The city records have the exact amount, as do my accountants, oh, and I think the bank as well. Yes, the bank as well. But it’s about that much.’

The land he had described covered the area we were interested in; we needed a strip fifteen feet wide running the whole length of the wall. Boothroyd was quick to point out the fact that if that was all we took then the rest would be valueless to him. Evan conceded that point as the argument went back and forth but in reality we were getting nowhere fast.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Boothroyd, ‘five thousand dollars for a twenty five year lease.’ He smiled at the favour he would be doing us.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, man! That’s far too much. It would be too much even if I bought it outright at that price.’