A Perfect Christmas

Chapter SEVENTEEN


Agnes Dalby sighed with relief to hear footsteps descending the stairs at long last. She scurried out of the kitchen to greet Cait. ‘Good morning, Miss Thomas. I was getting really worried about you. It’s well past your normal time for leaving the house to go to work and you haven’t even had any breakfast yet.’

At the bottom of the stairs Cait looked over at the woman, feeling perplexed. Agnes had been in every day since her employers had left, continuing with her duties despite the fact that she wasn’t being paid. Cait couldn’t at all understand why she was acting this way and not off enjoying her leisure.

‘You did understand my mother’s instructions to you when she left?’ Cait asked her now.

She nodded. ‘Perfectly. Mrs Thomas laid me off until she comes back.’

‘Then why are you still working here when you’re not being paid?’

‘Because if I didn’t, who would look after you, Miss Thomas?’

Cait felt shocked. Was this Agnes Dalby’s way of telling her she cared about her? If so, why was it that she could when Cait’s own parents couldn’t? She didn’t know quite how to respond to this so just said, ‘I would like some breakfast, Agnes. Tea and toast will be fine.’

It wasn’t lost on Agnes that Cait had addressed her by her Christian name for the first time, and wondered if the girl had realised. She felt warmed by it. ‘I’ll have it ready in a jiffy.’

As Agnes bustled back into the kitchen she fought down her desire to ask Cait just where she was getting the money from to buy the smart new suit she was wearing, different from yesterday’s, not to mention pay for the new hairstyle she was sporting, which was clearly from an expensive salon in town, the sort her mother frequented. Then there were the dozen or so boxes of new shoes and handbags that Agnes had helped the taxi driver bring in when they’d been delivered yesterday afternoon. Even if she landed herself a new job, it couldn’t pay on such a munificent scale, and besides she hadn’t been working there long enough to have been paid her first wage packet. And, more surprisingly, this new job didn’t seem to require her to work normal office hours either as she was home by four yesterday afternoon and had time to have her hair done first. It was after nine o’clock now and Cait seemed in no hurry to be at her new workplace. But it wasn’t Agnes’s place to query that, she decided.

There was a question it was her place to broach. As she was putting Cait’s breakfast before her Agnes asked, ‘Miss Thomas, do you know what your plans are for Christmas yet? Have you had any word whether your parents will be back by then? Only there isn’t much time if I’m to make a Christmas cake and pudding, mince pies et cetera, and also what I’m needed to prepare in advance for Christmas Day. I can order all the provisions from the butcher and grocer, of course.’

Cait looked back at her blankly. Christmas Day had never proved any fun for her in the past, her parents not at all the type to make merry, and she had been so much looking forward to a different sort of holiday this year, surrounded by Neil’s family and friends, which wasn’t going to be now. Still, there was time for her to meet someone else . . . maybe she could find a way to entice someone new to ask her to join them for the day. She told Agnes, ‘I’ve been invited out for Christmas Day so there’s no need for you to prepare anything special.’

The motherly side of Agnes was relieved to learn that the young woman was not spending the day alone. No one should be left solitary on the Lord’s birthday, in particular a young girl who was not only getting over a broken engagement but also coping with the fact that her self-centred parents hadn’t showed any consideration or compassion for her when going off on holiday, knowing her emotional state at the time. Looking forward to taking one day off at least, Agnes went back to the kitchen to clear away.

Cait finally arrived at the factory at just after ten. When she arrived she saw the young receptionist laughing with another girl. Both of them were in her own age group, fashionably dressed and looked the friendly sort. Here was an opportunity to make some new friends, a chance to ingratiate herself with them and hope one of them would invite her to join them on Christmas Day.

But then Cait remembered her position in the company, and her mother’s belief that it wasn’t the done thing for the hierarchy to fraternise with their employees. In future the type of friends she needed to make for herself were the type who mixed in the same social circles as she did now. She hoped she’d be invited into those circles by the company’s customers and suppliers who would want to build good working relationships with her.

As she had been yesterday, she was greeted in her office by the efficient, unflappable Jane Trucker.

‘Good morning, Miss Thomas,’ she greeted Cait in a businesslike manner.

Cait flashed her a critical look as she took off her coat and hung it up on the coat stand behind the door. She considered Jane to be a plain woman who did herself no favours by wearing such matronly, old-fashioned tweed suits, high-necked blouses, thick stockings and sturdy shoes. But today she looked even more dour, dressed as she was all in black. Then it struck Cait that she was all dressed like that because she was attending a funeral. A funeral she herself was supposed to be attending, representing her mother! Inwardly she heaved a sigh. A funeral was the last thing she felt like attending, though it seemed she’d have to as her mother’s representative.

She said to Jane, ‘I could do with a cup of tea, if you’d order it for me.’

That wasn’t what the secretary had been waiting for Cait to speak to her about, but regardless she said, ‘I’ll see to it, Miss Thomas.’

Cait shivered and said, ‘It’s chilly in here.’

Jane did not fail to notice the couple of magazines Cait took out of her handbag and put on the desk, and wondered whether this meant she was going to sit and read them all day or if she was actually going to make some contribution towards keeping the company profitable. She told Cait, ‘The radiators in the whole place have a mind of their own, I’m afraid. One day they’re boiling hot and the next stone cold. The boiler is really long overdue for replacement. In fact, the whole system needs renewing as it must be over fifty years old. Half the maintenance man’s week is taken up with plastering over its cracks, so to speak. I know Mr Swinton had spoken to Mrs Thomas about it a few times over the last few years, and we’re waiting for her decision.’

Cait knew better than to go over her mother’s head. ‘I expect there are a couple of electric heaters around somewhere. Will you find me one and bring it in? Oh, and you won’t forget about the tea, will you?’

Jane inwardly sighed. This young woman seemed to think that a secretary’s job was purely to run about seeing to her every whim, when in truth she had a mountain of important work to do – much of it work that Cait herself should be attending to. Jane did have some important information she needed to tell the young woman, but supposed she ought to see to her requests first then hopefully she would be more receptive.

Five minutes later Jane returned armed with a plug-in heater which she then spent several minutes moving around the room until Cait was satisfied she was receiving the full benefit of it. The tray of tea was delivered meantime and as Cait poured herself a cup Jane said, ‘I need to warn you, Miss Thomas, to expect all the foremen to visit you at eleven.’

Cait looked up, a blank expression on her face. ‘What for?’

‘I passed on the instructions you gave me yesterday and they aren’t happy.’ Flabbergasted at first then fuming was the truth of the matter, once Jane had informed them of their extra responsibilities.

Cait fought to hide her alarm. She didn’t like the thought of several burly men descending on her, obviously aiming to intimidate her into backtracking on her instructions. If she allowed them to force her to countermand her orders, where would her credibility as a boss be?

And, of course, there was the problem that she had delegated the work to them in the first place because she herself wasn’t capable of tackling it. Should that come to light she’d become a laughing stock around the factory. She had to make a stand here, show these men that she may be young but she was the boss and what she said went. It was very important that her mother returned to find the company prospering in her daughter’s capable hands. Then she would see Cait in a new light . . . and that wouldn’t be the case if she found the workers running rings around her.

She said to Jane, ‘Inform the men that I have given them my instructions and have nothing more to say on the matter. Did you need me for anything else?’

Jane did. The same as the foremen, her workload had already been more than enough for her to cope with, without the extra burden that Cait should have been dealing with heaped on her as well. Like the foremen, she was neither qualified nor remunerated enough to make such critical business decisions, and was worried just who would be held accountable if errors were made. But if Cait didn’t see fit to listen to the foremen’s legitimate reasons for refusing to take on the extra responsibilities, then she was unlikely to pay attention to Jane either.

She excused herself and left the office.

A while later Cait had finished reading the magazines from cover to cover, the articles not as interesting or informative as she had expected, and was leaning back in her chair, wondering what to do with herself now. She heaved a deep sigh. Being a boss had not proved as exciting as she had thought it would. According to the girls she had worked with in her previous job, the owner would sit in his inner sanctum on his fat arse telephoning around his business colleagues, arranging social events . . . lunches, games of golf and the like. As matters stood she had no business colleagues. That would surely change, though, once word spread that a new female boss was in place at Rose’s who needed wining and dining in order to secure business deals. In the meantime she needed to fill her day, which seemed to be passing too slowly. It really was no fun having nothing to do. Cait was surprised to notice that she was missing being kept busy.

She suddenly realised that she had not yet taken a tour around the factory. Righting herself in her chair, she made to lean over and press the button on the intercom to summon Jane Trucker to escort her but then thought better of it. She would have to make small talk with the older woman as they went around, and Cait felt she had nothing in common with her and didn’t relish awkward silences. She hadn’t yet asked Jane where the executive dining area was. Hopefully she would find it herself on her travels and have some lunch there.

On leaving her office Cait decided to take the stairs leading down to reception. Then she saw a door to the side of her that she hadn’t noticed before and decided to investigate where it led. There were more stairs behind it. She deduced that this must be the back entrance to the offices, avoiding the reception area. Descending them, she found herself in a short corridor with one door on her right and another at the end. The sign on the door informed her it was the customers’ viewing room. Making her way over to the door at the end, Cait opened it and found it led to a wide area she assumed was the workers’ entrance as on the wall was a clocking-in machine along with a clock-card holder on the wall to one side of it. She could see the signs for male and female lavatories and there was another door opposite that had no sign on it.

Cait went across to that and had a peek through. It led into a large cobbled area, with several separate old-looking two-storey buildings grouped on the other side. The site the company occupied appeared far larger than she had envisaged. It was now possible for her to see that the building she was in was two-storey at the front with a single storey extending quite a distance off the back.

She took a look around. Several people were in the process of crossing the yard, obviously on works business judging by what they were carrying. But then she saw a couple of groups of men and women huddled in the doorways opposite, smoking cigarettes. When she looked back and down both sides of the main building this side of the yard she saw a couple of other groups of workers, also smoking while they laughed and chatted between themselves. She watched as members of each group, having finished their cigarettes, threw their butts on the ground then disappeared back inside. Seconds later other workers arrived to take their places. This practice was the same as in her last job. The warehousemen smoked in the yard under whatever cover they could find, while the office staff sat smoking at their desks. Now Cait was in charge, though, she wasn’t sure how she felt about the practice continuing. After all, the workers were taking unofficial breaks when they should in fact be working.

She decided to go across the yard to visit the outlying buildings first, finding herself intrigued to know just what went on in there. She began to cross the cobbled yard. With everyone else dressed in work clothes, she suddenly felt very self-conscious and out of place, dressed in her expensive suit and suede court shoes. Although she kept her eyes straight ahead she was acutely aware some people had noticed her and were looking at her curiously. She didn’t doubt that by now word had spread through the company that the owner’s daughter was taking care of business until her mother returned from holiday, and she suspected the people watching her were wondering if this was her. She wished now she had asked Jane to accompany her. At least then people would know for certain that she was the new boss and not just an over-dressed new clerk in the office.

She was barely a quarter of the way across when she heard a loud wolf whistle then a male voice shout: ‘Well, look what we got here! A new doll in the offices. ’Bout bloody time. Already shagged ’ote worth having.’ Then another voice shouted, ‘Eh up, what yer doing tonight, gel? Fancy the back row of the flicks? I promise I won’t keep me hands to meself.’ The first voice snapped angrily, ‘Keep yer hands off, Jez. I saw ’er first.’ The man addressed as Jez then retorted, ‘As if a babe is gonna look at you when I’m around, yer dozy git.’

Cait spun on her heel to face the two young men responsible. One of them was extremely good-looking, almost as good-looking as Neil, and normally she would have been flattered to have captured his attention. The youth who had caught her eye was tall, his dark hair slicked back at the sides, long quiff fashioned into a DA. Under his gaping brown work coat, his clothes were Teddy boy-style. Like the majority of women Cait revelled in being found attractive by men, but she reminded herself that she wasn’t one of the girls in the office any longer but the boss and should conduct herself accordingly.

She felt it best to ignore the men so turned around and made to continue on her journey when another comment made her spin around once more. ‘Did you just call me a stuck-up bitch?’ she called angrily.

Jez, pretending to look around innocently, then brought his gaze back to her. ‘Who else d’yer think I’m talking to, yer daft cow? Look, no need to act shy with us, gel.’ A twinkle of mischief sparked in his eyes. ‘Fancy five minutes around the back of the bike sheds?’

She temporarily forgot that these two men would not know who she was and snapped angrily, ‘How dare you speak to me like that? Don’t you know who I am?’

It was Jez’s mate who answered. ‘Some frigid tart that thinks she summat she ain’t, dressed like a dog’s dinner.’ He poked Jez in the ribs. ‘Yer wasting yer time, mate. Yer’ll be lucky if the haughty bitch will allow yer to hold her hand, let alone get any further.’

Jez laughed. ‘Yeah, yer right.’ He smirked at Cait. ‘I’m hung like a donkey so it’s your loss, doll.’

‘How dare you . . .’

The scene was cut short by a middle-aged, balding man who poked his head out of the door behind the two young men. He addressed them both with an annoyed, ‘Oi, you two! You both asked to go to the men’s, not to go out for a crafty fag. Now get back inside. We’re still behind with the boxes for the order that’s due to go out . . .’

He was interrupted by Cait who demanded: ‘Are you in charge of these men?’

For the first time he noticed her. He looked startled for a moment before he responded, ‘Yes, but what has that to do with you, young lady?’

‘I’ll tell you what it’s got to do with me. I’m Caitlyn Thomas.’

Fred Holt’s face turned pale and he gulped audibly. ‘Oh!’

‘These men have just insulted me. I want them disciplined. Severely.’ Before she could stop herself, Cait blurted, ‘They’re both to be sacked. I want them off the premises right away.’

Astounded, Jez exclaimed, ‘Eh, now, hang on a minute! We weren’t to know who you was. ’Sides, it was only a bit of fun we was having. In’t right being sacked for having a bit of fun.’

‘Yeah, that’s right,’ piped up his worried mate. ‘Just a bit of fun we was having. All the other gels here lap it up.’

Cait knew the two men had only been amusing themselves but felt that should she retract her decision, the rest of the workforce wouldn’t take her seriously. She couldn’t afford to back down now. ‘Well, I’m not one of the other girls. I didn’t find your way of talking to me a bit funny.’

Fred pleaded, ‘Oh, now, Miss Thomas . . . these two are good lads. They’ll apologise for upsetting you, I’m sure. Promise not to do it . . .’

Cait still felt that the men should be disciplined for their unwarranted rudeness to her, but deep down she knew she had reacted too harshly. But to relent and lighten their punishment would be to show that she was out of her depth, which in truth she was. ‘I’ve said all I have to say on the matter,’ she announced.

Not wanting to risk finding herself in the middle of another such situation, she decided to go back to the office and ask Jane to take her on a guided tour.

As she arrived at the secretary’s office, she found the other woman bashing out correspondence on her Remington typewriter. There was a harassed expression on her face when she said to Cait, ‘What can I do for you, Miss Thomas?’

‘I’d like you to show me round the factory.’

‘Oh, er . . . you mean right now, Miss Thomas? Only I must get these letters out today. They really should have gone yesterday but I didn’t have time . . .’

‘Don’t you have a typing pool to see to that?’ Cait asked her.

‘No, Miss Thomas. Each department has their own clerk-typist to deal with paperwork.’

‘Oh, I see. Then I suppose my walkabout will have to wait for when you aren’t so busy.’ She remembered something she needed to speak to the other woman about, but the shrilling of the telephone stalled her. Jane excused herself to answer it. Cait could tell that the conversation was not going to be a short one so left her to it.

Back in her office, she flopped down on her chair and leaned back in it, giving out a long sigh to find herself back where she’d started just ten or so minutes ago.

She glanced idly around the office. To one side of her desk, against the wall, was a large bookcase crammed with dusty-looking volumes, their titles telling her they were all to do with the shoe trade over the ages, along with numerous copies of shoe-trade magazines and brochures from other firms. Normally such tomes would not have interested her in the slightest but it suddenly occurred to Cait that she should find out a little about the industry she was now in, if for no other reason than being able to converse knowledgeably on the subject when she was socialising with others in the trade, which she hoped to be in the future. She got up, went across to the bookcase and selected a book at random, taking it back to her desk. Much to her astonishment she found herself quickly becoming absorbed in the history of the shoe trade, astounded by the fact that until the middle of the last century all footwear was made by hand in people’s homes, wives working alongside their husbands and children until the invention of machines took the trade into factories, which were mainly in the Northamptonshire area. Before she knew it Cait had read the whole hundred pages and the hooter was sounding to announce to the workers it was dinnertime. She realised she was hungry herself.

She still hadn’t asked Jane Trucker where the boss’s dining room was but the thought of eating alone either there or in her office should she have a tray sent up did not appeal. She decided she would go out for lunch. There must be a decent place to eat around here. As boss she wasn’t confined to just an hour so she would string it out for as long as she could to while away some time. That just left the remainder of the afternoon to get through. She supposed she could try another book from the collection here but felt she’d read enough about the shoe trade for one day. Then a thought struck her. As boss she was at liberty to come and go as she pleased so she really didn’t have to come back to the office this afternoon if she didn’t want to. There was a film she was keen to see at the pictures, The Ladykillers, a crime comedy with Peter Sellers and Alec Guinness amongst other big-name British stars taking part. There was no reason why she shouldn’t go and see it this afternoon.

On her way out she was passing Jane Trucker’s office when she remembered there was something she wanted to speak to her about so made a detour.

Jane was just replacing the telephone receiver and it was apparent she was working through her dinner hour as a plastic box containing a sandwich and an apple stood open on her desk. She smiled a greeting at Cait and said to her, ‘Miss Thomas, I’m glad you’ve come in. I was just speaking to one of our suppliers of hides about a batch that’s late being delivered, which could disrupt our production schedule. It’s my guess what’s happened is that the firm has had an urgent order come in from another company, who have threatened to go elsewhere for their hides if they don’t receive supplies urgently. So what they’ve done is given them our order to keep them sweet, giving us a fabricated tale about the reason for the delay in our delivery. They never would have dared act this way with us before Mr Swinton died. Anyway, I’m waiting for a call back from their sales director with a firm delivery date, but it would carry much more weight if you’d be good enough . . .’

Cait knew the woman was going to ask her to speak to the supplier’s sales director and the thought terrified her. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Jane this so replied, ‘Well, if you’re waiting for a call I’ll make this brief. I want you to inform the foremen as a matter of urgency to pass on to the workers that in future there’ll be no more toilet breaks during working hours.’

Jane looked taken aback. ‘But people can’t be denied a toilet visit when they need one, Miss Thomas.’

‘It’s not the toilet they’re going to, though, is it? I witnessed that myself this morning when I went for a short walk and found several couples canoodling around the side of a building, two women having an argument, several other groups of people laughing and joking and smoking cigarettes . . . all on the firm’s time. So from now on the workers will visit the toilets before they start their shifts and during authorised break times only.’

Jane opened her mouth to inform Cait that all the workers in the production departments were on piecework, so weren’t paid if they weren’t physically producing anything. Those who did have an impromptu break would be up to their daily quota level as none of the workers would risk taking home a short pay packet at the end of the week. She could also assure Cait that those not on piecework were closely watched by their superiors, whose job it was to keep them in line. None of them were going to risk their jobs by turning a blind eye to shirkers. But before Jane could enlighten Cait on this, she was saying as she headed out of the office, ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

Jane immediately called after her, ‘Oh, but Miss Thomas . . . what about Mr Swinton’s funeral this afternoon?’

But Cait did not hear her. She was already out of earshot.

Jan could tell immediately she clapped eyes on Glen as he made his way over to where she was waiting for him on the canal tow path that evening that he had heard the same rumours she had. There was a grim, worried expression on his face. This, though, wasn’t the place to discuss matters, and Glen would talk about it when he wanted to. In a repetition of the previous night, they were both seated by the fire after dinner had been cleared away before he gave a heavy sigh and looked across at her, so many emotions blazing from his eyes it would be impossible to name them all.

In a helpless tone he said, ‘I don’t know what to do, Jan.’

‘About what?’ she asked, as though she had no idea.

‘Have you heard the rumours going around about Lucy?’

She could tell by the look in his eye, the tone of his voice, that he was hoping she hadn’t, meaning that matters might not be as bad as he feared they were. Just a few of the staff disgruntled by his daughter’s idea of leadership, not the majority. Jan nodded and said gravely, ‘According to what’s being said, your daughter doesn’t seem to be making herself very popular, does she?’

He shook his head, grim-faced. ‘Not from what Harry Owens told me, no, she isn’t. According to him she’s acting like she’s the queen bee and all the workers better do as she says or suffer harsh consequences.’ His face screwed up into a mask of mortification. ‘And apparently she’s really upset everyone because she didn’t attend Reg Swinton’s funeral. Never even showed her face or sent an apology. His widow was extremely upset, as you can imagine, Reg having worked tirelessly for the firm for the length of time he had. Harry said that it was very embarrassing for the staff who attended.’

‘Oh, dear,’ Jan mused. ‘That really is unforgivable of her. Anyway, in respect of the way she’s lording it about, in all fairness, Glen, she’s only sixteen.’

‘Seventeen in January,’ he corrected her.

‘Then she’s still sixteen now. When I was her age, I thought I knew everything. Wouldn’t listen to any advice my elders tried to give me but believed everything people of my own age told me, even things that my own common sense should have told me were complete bunkum. One of the things I believed was that the top brass sat in their ivory towers all day, waiting for us minions to keep them in champagne and caviar. Of course, it wasn’t until I grew older and wiser that I realised the truth of what the bosses really got up to when I thought they were idling: handling critical day-to-day issues that affected the success of the company. Didn’t you think that too before you wised up?’

‘No. My father made sure I knew everything about running a successful business. The moment I was old enough, I was shown what went on behind closed doors.’

‘Oh, yes, of course.’ Jan folded her arms under her shapely chest and said matter-of-factly, ‘Well, your ex-wife is to blame for letting your obviously grossly inexperienced daughter have free rein with the company while she’s swanning around on holiday, not giving a damn. Serves her right if she comes back to find the place has gone to the wall.’

Glen eyed her sharply. ‘Wouldn’t be much help to the people who rely on their jobs to keep a roof over their family’s heads and food on the table, would it? I couldn’t bear to see the company suffer, and especially not at the hands of my daughter with her daft ideas about running it. Her grandfather started that company from scratch, put his last penny into it, built it up by working all hours . . . to provide for his family and have something of value to hand over to me when he retired. Or, as it turned out, died. I worked hard to build on what he’d left me. When Lucy was born I vowed to work even harder, to ensure she had a good inheritance. I can’t just stand by and say nothing when she’s doing so much damage.’

Jan frowned. ‘What do you propose then, Glen? If you want to have any hope of building a relationship with Lucy, you need to pick your time and place carefully and be very sensitive in your approach.’

Glen stared at her blindly. His emotions were in turmoil. He might not have set eyes on his daughter for fifteen years but his love for her and sense of parental responsibility had never diminished. He was torn now between a desperate need to protect Lucy from the vicious tongues that would be lashing her for the way she was acting, excuse her behaviour, blame himself somehow for it, while the other part of him wanted to demand from her just why she thought she was a superior being with the right to treat those she saw as beneath her as if they didn’t matter. He vehemently hoped that Lucy’s behaviour was just the result of her immaturity. She was obviously not equipped for the role she’d been forced into. Jan was right and Nerys must be out of her mind to think that a girl of such tender years could do what was being expected of Lucy, just because she herself didn’t want to cut short her holiday.

A wave of weariness swept over Glen. For the first time since he’d been rescued from his miserable life on the road, he wished he was back there now with only the task of keeping himself alive to worry about, a monumental problem to him at the time but one which seemed to be paling into insignificance compared to what he was facing in his new life.

Jan meanwhile was feeling sorry for her new friend. She had known him for only a short space of time but it had very quickly became apparent to her that Glen was a highly moral man who, despite the terrible situations he had found himself in over the last few years, had never lost his principles. It must be destroying him to have learned that his daughter had developed into such an unattractive individual. Jan, though, felt that the young girl couldn’t be held entirely responsible for her outlook on life. She wouldn’t say as much to Glen, though. He would be feeling enough guilt already for the way his daughter had been raised.

Leaning forward, she told him, ‘Look, Glen, I know how important the business is to you, but you need to remember it’s no longer yours. If it suffers in any way from the workers deciding to strike, then that’s on Nerys’s head alone. What you need to be concentrating on is making a plan for how you’re going to approach your daughter and break the news to her. And you need to decide on that quickly, before Nerys comes back and you lose your chance.’

Glen looked at Jan thoughtfully. She was right. The business his father had started was important to him, along with keeping the workers in employment, but far more important was reinstating himself with his daughter, which was going to be hard enough in itself, hoping she would believe his side of the story against the one Nerys must have told her.