Liverpool Love Song (27 page)

He thought about making out a cheque for just under two and a half thousand pounds to Alistair Jackson at the beginning of the month, then moving it out of that account as soon as he could and making a run for it. But what he did next would be traceable through bank records, unless he drew it all out in cash. He’d already noticed in the small print of their literature that banks required prior notice if a client wanted to withdraw a large sum, and that would give them time to check back and find out it was fraud.

Also, he’d been hoping for more money than that. He realised that what he’d set up was a long-term drip-drip way to take the money, not a grab-it-quick job. But he wouldn’t be staying any longer than necessary; it was too nerve-racking. His plan now was to hang on here for as long as possible, hopefully at least six months, and drain off as much as he could. He wanted to get enough out of this to buy himself a cottage somewhere quiet, and perhaps a car.

Joan was very interested in Helen’s garden and came round to see it every few weeks. Chloe enjoyed her company and was pleased when Mum told her she’d be coming the next day. She spent the morning baking scones and a chocolate cake, and decided she’d put on afternoon tea in style, as she used to in Adam’s house. Mum had a silver tea service she displayed in a cabinet in the dining room but never used. Chloe took it out and got it ready.

Auntie Joan had no children of her own, although she said she wished she’d been married soon enough to have them. She and Uncle Walter had married late in life; until then, she’d taught history at Blackburn House, a notable Liverpool grammar school for girls. Mum thought Joan had achieved more in her life than she had herself.

Joan arrived with a picture book of fairy stories for Lucy and a cloth book for Zac. Chloe admired her discreet make-up and thought she looked really elegant.

‘I’m sure you must have found it hard to go to work and leave your two babies,’ she said to Chloe. ‘They’re very sweet.’

Chloe pulled a rueful face. ‘I did find it hard to start with, but it was a temporary job and it’s over now. I managed fine; Aunt Goldie looked after the children.’

‘She’s looking much better. Seems more cheerful, too.’

‘She enjoys taking care of the kids. I think she wants to be needed, but doesn’t like to admit it.’

‘She’s good with them.’

‘Yes, I feel they’re safe with her. I loved going to work,’ Chloe said, ‘and to be honest, I need the money. I’m looking for another job, but there’s a general slowing down in the economy and I’ve not had much success so far.’

That brought Auntie Joan’s blue eyes to meet hers. ‘Walter’s finally found an accountant, but now he’s looking for a replacement for his secretary. She’s getting married and going to live in Portsmouth. That’s your sort of work, isn’t it?’

Chloe was ready to reach out for any job now. ‘It is my sort of work,’ she said. ‘But I’m afraid Uncle Walter will think I don’t have enough experience to be his secretary. I can do shorthand and typing, but my jobs have been mostly working with figures. They always put me in the accounts department.’

‘Well, Walter has an accounts department too. Why don’t you write him an official application for a job? I’m sure he’ll be glad to fit you in if he can. I’ll tell him about you tonight. It can’t do any harm, can it?’

‘Thank you,’ Chloe said. ‘I’d appreciate it if you would.’

Auntie Joan praised Chloe’s cake. ‘And the elegant way you serve afternoon tea. Your mother does it very nicely too, but I don’t get the best china and the silver with her.’

Helen laughed. ‘You know you get the everyday cups and saucers.’

Joan lay back in her garden chair. ‘I love your summerhouse, it’s perfect on a day like today.’

‘We use it even in cool weather,’ Marigold told her. ‘It stops the children making a mess in the house.’

Rex joined them, and he and Auntie Joan discussed Britain’s ongoing financial problems arising from the low amount of exports and the huge bill for goods being imported. ‘Walter is very concerned,’ she told him. ‘The country can’t pay its way.’

Afterwards, they all took Joan on a tour of the garden. Rex dug up a root of heather she’d admired for her own garden, and gave her some of the bedding plants he’d grown from seed to put in her patio pots.

Chloe felt very much more hopeful as she waved Auntie Joan off.

‘Walter can promote one of his more experienced girls to be his secretary,’ Marigold said as they watched Joan’s car go down the road, ‘and find you something within your capabilities, a slot in the typing pool or something like that.’

Chloe sat down immediately and wrote the letter to Uncle Walter that Joan had suggested. A few days later, she received his reply on official company notepaper, inviting her to come along to see him in his office to talk about her application.

Chloe felt nervous as she went up the steps into the entrance hall at Bristow’s. It was silent and deserted. She saw a notice on the desk inviting visitors to ring for attention, but just then a young girl with red hair came scurrying through with a pile of files in her arms, so she asked her the way to Mr Bristow’s office.

‘I’ll take you up in a moment,’ the girl said. ‘I’m Angela Smith, the office junior. I just want to drop these files into the sales department first.’

Within moments Chloe was being escorted through corridors to a large office containing four desks with secretaries seated behind typewriters. Only the clatter of typewriter keys disturbed the silence.

‘This is Mr Bristow’s secretary,’ her guide waved towards one of the desks, ‘Maureen Gibbs,’ then she went to sit down in her own place.

Miss Gibbs was a little older and more sophisticated. Chloe was impressed when she said, ‘Are you Miss Redwood? Mr Bristow’s expecting you,’ and buzzed through to tell him she was here. It seemed his office opened off this one. He came to the door.

‘Do come in, Chloe.’ He stepped forward to meet her. ‘Would you like a cup of coffee?’

‘That would be very nice.’ His secretary was asked to arrange it, and Chloe relaxed. ‘It’s good of you to see me like this,’ she said.

He closed the door and went back to his chair behind a large partner’s desk. Chloe had called him Uncle Walter since she was a child and had seen him regularly at family get-togethers, though she saw more of Auntie Joan while he was at work. His silvery hair was still thick and heavy and his gaze kindly.

‘So you want a job?’ he said. ‘I think we’ll be able to fit you in somewhere.’ His office was large and light, with two large windows. ‘Have a seat. How are your two babies?’ She found herself telling him that Aunt Goldie was happy to look after them while she came to work.

‘Helen tells me that your children have been Marigold’s salvation,’ he said. ‘They’ve helped her get over her bereavement, settled her down.’

‘Yes, she’s better. It’s as though she needs something to keep her busy, and the kids love her.’

‘Well then, I shall find something to keep you busy too. We have four secretaries here as well as Mrs Parks, the accounts clerk. Miss Gibbs looks after me and Miss Tomlin, Lydia that is, works for the accountant. The sales manager and the buyer share Miss McDonald, and Angela Smith works for the production manager. She also floats and fills in where she’s needed. Well, all the girls do, they’re very good like that.’

He was studying her now across his desk. ‘I remember you doing a secretarial course some years ago. Then you went to work for the civil service. Goodness, time passes so quickly. Tell me about the work you did there.’

‘My previous jobs have been mostly bookkeeping, but I can do office work of every sort.’

‘Miss Gibbs will be with us for another fortnight. Why don’t I ask her to show you what she does? Two weeks should give you time to pick it up, d’you think?’

‘You’re going to let me take her place?’ Chloe was astounded. ‘She has the top secretarial job here.’

‘Yes, you could manage that, couldn’t you?’

‘Yes,’ she said with as much confidence as she could muster. ‘Yes, I’ve got my shorthand and typing speeds up by doing the temporary job at Owen Owens.’

‘The other girls will help you until you find your feet.’

‘It’s just that I’m more used to working with figures.’

‘Chloe, if you have two children to support,’ his manner was paternalistic, ‘you need a job that pays a reasonable salary. I understand that children can be very expensive.’

‘They can.’

‘Let’s do that then, and see how you get on. You agree? If you find it too much, I could promote Miss McDonald and give you her job.’

‘No, I’d like to try working for you.’

‘Good.’

‘You’re very kind to me, Uncle Walter.’ Chloe could feel tears scalding her eyes. ‘I’ll do my very best.’

Maureen Gibbs came in then with the coffee. Chloe was relaxed enough to look at her now and found that she was pretty and not much older than she was. It made her feel she’d be able to do her job.

Uncle Walter took her round the offices and introduced her to the staff. She knew she wouldn’t remember all their names; there were just too many at once. He said, ‘I’m afraid the accountant, Francis Clitheroe, is not in this afternoon, so you won’t see him until Monday.’

Then he showed her round his factory, and Chloe was captivated. He pointed out the mounds of barley, wheat and maize waiting to be crushed, the dried meat, the linseed oil, the brewer’s grains, the yeast and the fish meal that was used in cat food. She was introduced to John Walsh, the production manager, who explained how the various recipes were made up and vitamins and minerals added. He took her through the drying rooms, where she saw the chopped meat, fish and vegetables being prepared; then on to the packing department, where the colourful labels were being attached to the different packages, showing whether it was intended to feed hamsters and guinea pigs or cats and dogs. It was a busy place.

When she was leaving, she said, ‘Thank you, Uncle Walter, for giving me this chance. I’m very grateful.’

‘Monday, then,’ he said. ‘Nine till five. I’ll put it all in writing for you, as I do for other employees.’

‘Yes. Is it all right for me to go on calling you Uncle Walter?’

He pondered for a moment. ‘Perhaps Mr Bristow would be better while we’re here.’ His smile was both broad and friendly, and she wanted to kiss his cheek as she did when she visited his home.

Monday morning was very wet. Rain was splattering against the windows as Chloe tried to dress both Lucy and herself. She needed to look her best for her first day at work, because Miss Gibbs and the other girls she’d seen working there had looked very smart. She piled her fair hair up into a large bun on top of her head. It was a style Mum thought suited her very well.

‘Shall I run you over to Bootle in the car?’ Helen offered as they ate breakfast. ‘You’ll get wet through in this.’

‘No thanks, Mum. I give you enough trouble as it is, and I’ve got to get used to going on the bus.’

‘Take my umbrella, then, it’s a big one. You’ll need it if you have to wait at the bus stop.’

Chloe wore her new mackintosh and carried her new shoes in a bag. She was glad of the large umbrella, though it was heavy and she could hardly see where she was going. The bus was all steamed up inside, and when she got out, the rain was coming down in sheets. She joined the steady stream of workers hurrying along the street to their offices.

She’d only been once to this part of town and almost missed the entrance. At the last moment she veered across the pavement towards it, closing her umbrella. She heard an involuntary gasp of distress, and once she was in the dry she turned to find the cause.

‘I’m sorry,’ she faltered. She could see that she’d doused the office worker following her with rainwater off her umbrella.

He followed her inside the entrance. ‘I took that full in the face,’ he told her, mopping at it with his handkerchief.

‘I’m so sorry.’ She knew exactly what she’d done. She’d half closed her umbrella and then flipped it open and shut it quickly in order to shake the rain off. It was what she always did. ‘I didn’t realise there was anyone close enough …’

He’d taken off his spectacles and was drying them too. ‘It’s all right, no real harm done.’ He replaced them, shook the rain off his hat and half smiled at her. ‘I haven’t seen you before, have I? Do you work here?’

‘As of today.’

‘Just starting? A secretary?’

Chloe felt that his heavy glasses screened his face and she had to look twice to see anything more of it. He looked polished, as though he spent a lot of time and energy turning himself out smartly.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Where will I find the ladies’ cloakroom?’

‘Oh, we’ve just passed it, sorry.’ He retraced his steps to point it out.

Inside, Chloe met up with Miss Gibbs. ‘I’m Maureen,’ the older woman said as she showed Chloe where she could leave her wet clothes. Then she led the way to the office she shared with the other secretaries and introduced her. ‘Everybody, this is Chloe Redwood, who’s to take over my job.’

They all smiled and said hello. ‘This is Lydia Tomlin, she works for the accountant, and this is Clarice, Mrs Parks, our accounts clerk.’ Both women were already hard at work.

‘We have a new accountant.’ Mrs Parks smiled. ‘He’s reviewing everything and wants all our duties listed. He’s working us to the bone.’

‘This is Rosemary McDonald.’ She was dark and slender. ‘She’s shared between the sales manager and the buyer. And this is . . .’

‘Angela Smith,’ Chloe said, nodding at the young redhead. ‘I met Angela the day I came for interview.’

‘She works for the production manager.’ Maureen Gibbs pulled a spare typewriter from a cupboard and set it up on a table. ‘You can work here until I go. It’s not the best of typewriters, I’m afraid, but it does work.’

‘I hope I’ll remember all your names and what you do.’ Chloe was struggling to smile and look at ease.

They were all trying to explain the set-up to her when Chloe heard a buzzer. ‘That’s Mr Clitheroe, the accountant,’ Maureen Gibbs said. ‘It means he wants something. He probably has letters to dictate.’