Authors: Janet Woods
He looked slightly dubious. ‘Are they male or female?’
‘How would I know? They’re just sweet little kittens.’
‘They won’t be so sweet if they grow into fully equipped tomcats. And if they’re female they’ll reproduce rapidly unless they’re fixed.’ He picked them up, his hands gentle, and lifted their tails.
‘Fixed? What on earth do you mean? How . . .?’
He grinned at her. ‘They’re boys, and they’ll be simple enough to neuter. How? I’ll make a small incision in the scrotum, remove the testicles and tie off the ligaments. They look a bit on the skinny side; have you checked them for worms?’
Of course she knew what fixed meant – she shouldn’t have asked. Her eyes flew open and her cheeks fired up.
Benjamin guffawed with laughter. ‘I’ve never seen my daughter’s face turn quite so red.’
Good job he hadn’t been there when Latham had educated her about sexual matters then.
It was true that her face had warmed at Martin’s frankness. Though most of her understanding stemmed from guesswork, she wasn’t entirely stupid. She spluttered, ‘Heavens, how utterly and ruthlessly . . .
surgical
of you. I think I could have done without the tutorial.’
He couldn’t quite keep the grin off his face. ‘I’m sorry, force of habit. Sometimes it was learn on the job in the army.’
She struggled on. ‘I do hope you didn’t
fix
your patients in quite the same manner. Could you be kind and allow me to have the last word on this.’
‘I’ve embarrassed you, haven’t I?’
‘I must admit . . . well . . . poor kittens. Checking for worms sounds entirely disagreeable to me.’
‘Never mind, I’ll see to it.’ One of the kittens began to purr and he stroked its stomach with his forefinger. The other made little squeaks. ‘They are rather sweet. Thank you for thinking of me.’
His voice had a slightly ironic edge to it as he slanted his brilliant-blue eyes her way. He had an effect on her without even trying. She had never felt so attracted to a man.
‘What would you suggest I call them?’ he asked.
‘Anything you like. I did think Billy Boy might suit the darker one, since he’s a bit of a thug. I was going to call the other one Clara, but now she’ll have to be Clarence.’
‘You won’t mind if I call them both puss, will you?’
‘You’re perfectly horrid; of course I’ll mind. How would you like to be called puss?’ and she laughed. ‘And what’s more you look rather silly in that apron. Is there anything I can do to help?’
‘Yes . . . You can put some newspaper down on the bathroom floor for Billy and Clarence, and give them a saucer of milk. The bathroom is through that door over there. The kitchen is in the opposite direction beyond the dining room.’ Then in anticipation of her next question, ‘They’ll be warm in the bathroom; it has a radiator.’
‘You can be awfully bossy, you know.’
‘I do know. After you’ve done that, you can set the table if you would. The bits and pieces are in the dresser.’
The whole place was comfortably furnished in a mannish sort of fashion – no frills or fuss. She remembered he’d grown up without a mother in his life.
He gazed to where her father had made himself comfortable in an armchair by the fire. ‘Can I get you a drink, Benjamin?’
‘I wouldn’t mind a small glass of sherry.’
‘You, Julia?’
‘That would be nice. I’ll deal with the cats first. If I leave the basket lid open they can sleep in it for a while and can claw their way in and out if they need to.’
The dinner smelled delicious, she thought, as she bustled about the dresser, opening and shutting cupboards and drawers while she looked for tablecloths, cutlery and cruets.
Martin Lee-Trafford was talented in many ways. He made an expert Yorkshire pudding batter, pouring it into a sizzling pan of meat juices and placing it back into the oven to cook while the meat rested.
‘I’m impressed.’
He appeared slightly embarrassed by the compliment. ‘I like to eat, so I thought I owed it to myself to learn how to cook. I don’t often get the chance to entertain others. I’m enjoying it.’
‘Then you’ll have to do it more often.’
‘I have some fairly good news for your father. I’ll tell him over dinner.’
‘Oh, good, he seems to have been a bit preoccupied of late. I think something is worrying him.’
Martin waited until they were tucking into a delicious trifle before he told them, ‘I’ve had the twelve versions of the Rosie Doll packaged together as collectors’ items. We’ve catalogued them as a complete series while stocks last for ten shillings per series, and we’re beginning to shift them.’
‘And if we run out of early models?’
‘I’m negotiating with a department store to take the rest to distribute amongst its branches, along with the overstock of puzzles. The outcome will be a reasonably small profit, but at this stage it’s more important that we shift the stale stock and re-establish a cash flow.’
‘Well done,’ her father said.
Julia gazed at him in mock dismay. ‘So that’s all I mean to you both . . . stale stock?’
Her father patted her hand and chuckled. ‘It happens to us all in time, my dear.’
Martin was clearly puzzled as he gazed from one to the other.
Her father enlightened him. ‘The Rosie doll was modelled on Julia for all these years. It was a tenth birthday present for her from her mother and I. Julia named the doll after her grandmother, and she designed the wardrobe for the latest one.’
Martin’s eyes reflected his amusement. ‘I thought the doll looked slightly familiar. Oh, dear, I seem to have stuck my foot in my mouth again.’
‘You most certainly have.’
‘There’s worse to come, and I hope this doesn’t hurt your feelings, Julia. I’d prefer it if we dropped that line altogether. We also need to get into cheaper lines . . . soft toys with musical box innards, or automatons. Plastic figures and cardboard dolls’ houses rather than expensive wood.’
‘Howard Toys are known for their quality. We make the best rocking horses in Europe. They were one of the Howard factory’s original products and we exported them abroad.’
‘Daddy used to paint the speckles on the grey ones, and sometimes he allowed me to help. Each rocking horse is signed with his name,’ she said.
‘There’s a whole herd of horses living on the third floor of the factory. I agree they’re of good quality . . . so good in fact that they’ll never wear out or need to be replaced unless they’re attacked by woodworm. The last sale of a horse was over a year ago. We must produce lines that have a good turnover, and that will take time to build up.’ He fell quiet for a few moments, then said, ‘I’m sorry Ben. Perhaps you should have sold the place to Latham Miller after all.’
Julia gave her father a sharp look. ‘Latham offered to buy the factory? Why didn’t you tell me?’
He shrugged. ‘What was the point when I had no intention of selling it to him. Latham only wants the building. The toys are my life, as they were for my father and my grandfather before him.’
‘But if the toys no longer produce a profit—’
‘You know nothing about business, my dear. Let’s drop the subject, shall we? Do what you have to do, Lee-Trafford. When things improve I daresay a better offer will come along. In the meantime, another serving of that delicious trifle wouldn’t go amiss.’
Taking up his dish, Julia went to the sideboard and filled it. She was steaming a little at the unaccustomed rebuke from her father. She wished he’d treat her as though she was an adult, especially in company. When she placed it gently in front of him, she said, ‘Latham Miller is usually happy to discuss business with me.’
‘I daresay he’s humouring you when he does.’
‘So why didn’t he tell me he’d made an offer for the factory?’
‘It could be that he’s of the same mind as me, that business and women don’t mix. You should ask him. Perhaps he’s just waiting for the right opportunity to turn up. He’s probably hoping you’ll turn me to his way of thinking, so he can pick up the place cheaply. Well, I won’t let you do that, Julia. Howard’s Toy factory is my life. Now . . . I will hear no more of it.’
He’d wounded her, and the hurt she felt spread coldly through her. ‘Daddy, that’s completely untrue. How can you think that? Don’t you trust me?’
He sighed. ‘There are two things in life that I love deeply. One is the factory and the other is you, Julia. I’m sorry, my dear, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s Miller I don’t trust. Enough now!’ He scraped the last remnants of trifle from his bowl, dabbed the napkin against his lips, and sat back, patting his stomach.
‘Oh . . .’ She didn’t tell her father that Latham had proposed marriage to her. On the times when they went out together he was an amusing companion who went out of his way to please her. As he’d promised he didn’t pressure her. He was a perfect gentleman, giving her flowers and chocolates, which her father ate, since he’d developed a sweet tooth of late.
When Latham kissed her it was pleasant enough, though not exactly earth-shattering. She sensed about him something of the predator watching and waiting to pounce. She couldn’t help being aware of him when they were together, and she wondered how it would be with him. Her head told her that Latham would be a very good catch indeed, and Irene had told her he was wicked. But on the times she’d decided to say yes to him, her instinct stopped her from uttering the word – yet, she couldn’t say no, either.
She felt the need in her to become a wife and mother, as her parents had fully expected of her.
Her glance fell on Martin. He’d been watching her, his mouth curved into a soft smile, his eyes faintly sympathetic. ‘I’ll make us some coffee.’
‘And I’ll clear the table and help you wash up,’ and her voice was thick with tears. ‘Your new abode is comfortable.’
‘I like it now it’s clean and tidy, and it’s nice to have some space around me. Although it was kind of Arthur Feltham to offer me accommodation while I was in London, it was rather small for two of us. My house in Bournemouth has attracted a decent tenant, by the way.’
‘Oh good . . . Did you manage to find somewhere to set your train set up here?’
‘Not yet; I’ll leave it boxed for now.’
‘What a pity. I was hoping we’d be able to play with it. I imagine Daddy will be asleep when you take the coffee in.’
‘Does he sleep much during the day?’
‘He drifts off. He says he’s getting old.’
‘How old is he?’
‘Sixty. My mother was ten years younger than him. He seems to have slowed down considerably over the past year, which is why he’s retired a little earlier than he intended too.’
‘Perhaps you should persuade him to see his doctor and get a check-up.’
Alarm filled her. ‘Do you think there’s something wrong with him then?’
‘I don’t think anything of the sort. I’m just suggesting that a precautionary check-up wouldn’t hurt a man of his age – any age come to that.’ He took the dirty plates from her and set them on the draining board.
‘My father can be awfully stubborn at times,’ she said when he turned back.
‘I’ve noticed.’
Her eyes sought his. ‘You’d tell me if you thought he was ill, wouldn’t you, Martin?’
His eyelids flickered. ‘I’m not his doctor . . . besides which there’s a small question of privacy.’ He took her hands in his. ‘No medical practitioner worth his salt would break confidentiality between himself and his patient.’
She nodded. ‘I understand that, but you’re no longer a doctor, you’re a factory manager.’
‘And as such I’m unable to offer an opinion on anyone’s health.’
‘Unable, or unwilling?’
‘It wouldn’t be ethical.’
‘No . . . it wouldn’t. I shouldn’t have been so presumptuous . . . I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m a bit worried about him.’ Removing her hands she abruptly changed the subject. ‘Latham Miller has asked me to marry him. I haven’t told my father yet.’
He stared at her, a nerve twitching in his jaw. Stiffly, he said, ‘I suppose that’s only to be expected. Congratulations.’
‘I didn’t say I’d accepted him.’
‘Will you?’
‘I haven’t decided.’
‘He’d be able to keep you in luxury.’
‘Yes . . . I suppose he would; is that why you said it was to be expected?’ and she couldn’t keep the coldness from her voice. She gazed to where her father had made himself comfortable in an armchair by the fire. ‘I don’t think Daddy likes him.’
‘You’re Benjamin’s only daughter. He would find it hard to give you away to another man, especially a business rival. But he’d come round because he’d want you to be happy.’
‘Latham isn’t a rival. As far as I can see, all he’s done is make an offer for the business. Daddy turned it down and that’s that.’
‘It’s possible that he’ll change his mind . . . in time.’
She doubted it. ‘Have you ever considered marrying?’
‘I was engaged once.’
‘What happened? And before you tell me to mind my own business . . .
what happened?
’
‘I went away to war.’
‘Wouldn’t she wait for you? I would have.’ Laughter trickled from her when he grinned. ‘What I meant was that if I’d been put in the position of waiting for my fiancé to return, I would have. In fact, I did. I waited for Dickie.’
‘Susan waited for me, too.’
Her curiosity got the better of her. ‘And . . .?’
‘I released her from the engagement.’
She could hear the pain in his voice, and remembered he’d spent time in a hospital. Tears sprang to her eyes. ‘Did you love her very much?’
The kettle had begun to boil and the lid was rattling. ‘She was a nice girl, uncomplicated, and marriage was expected of us. She deserved better than the man who came back from the war. It was the right thing to do, and she’s married to somebody else and is happy.’ He leaned forward and kissed her on the end of the nose, saying gently, ‘Don’t cry over me, Julia, dear.’
‘You should have married your nice uncomplicated girl. She could have looked after you. Can I hug you?’
He shook his head.
She did anyway. Taking a step towards him she slid her arms around him and looked up at him, smiling. ‘What will you do now, Lee-Trafford?’
‘What you’re expecting me to do . . .’ His mouth closed over hers in the softest of kisses that carried her into the clouds. The tip of his tongue parted her lips and gently flicked and probed. She moved against his hard body and for a moment they exchanged the close intimacy of their embrace.