Fourpenny Flyer (2 page)

It was a very grand occasion, for the great Nan Easter had invited all her family, and her lover, Mr Calverley Leigh, and her closest business associates, in order to make
an important announcement. The firm she had founded, when her children were little more than babies and the French war had just begun, had grown from a simple newspaper round to a huge empire with shops all over London, and in most of the important towns in the south of England too. Now it was time to expand even further, and to do that she would need to delegate some of her responsibilities.

‘I been a-giving the matter the most careful thought,' she said to her guests, ‘and it do seem to me that changes will need to be made. There are some have urged me to marry and share the burden with a husband, and there was a time when I agreed to it, under duress mark you. But I have to tell 'ee I en't the marrying kind and that's the truth of it. I been a widow too long and I like my independence. So what I propose to do is this. I propose to take my two sons into the firm as managers, Billy to take charge of warehousing, Johnnie to be responsible for sales throughout the country, with salaries commensurate, as you would expect. That being so, the firm will henceforth be known as A. Easter and Sons. I have given orders for the London signs to be altered as from today.'

Her elder son, Billy, was delighted by the news, but John Easter was shattered. So shattered he couldn't speak. He knew that his eyes were staring and that his mouth had fallen open and that he probably looked as much of a fool as he felt, but there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't even assume a more acceptable expression. And that annoyed him because it was extremely important to him to appear calm and controlled, no matter what he might be feeling. In fact, the more powerful the emotions that racked him, the more necessary it was to keep them hidden. But really this was too extraordinary for words or control. For years and years he'd been planning what he would do if he were in charge of the firm and now, suddenly, when he was least expecting it, she'd given him the power to do it. It was a dream come true.

The faces round the table were turning in his direction, smiling congratulations. His sister Annie was looking up at him to mouth, ‘Well done!' But he hadn't done anything.
Except dream. And try to tell his mother the truth sometimes, without upsetting her, which was horribly difficult because she was the most determined and powerful woman.

Billy was looking very pleased with himself, leaning back in his chair so that their old nurse Bessie could kiss him and stroke the fair hair back from his forehead the way she always did when she was comforting or approving. But Billy had always known he would have a place in the firm, being the elder son. Everyone had known. It had been talked about at his twenty-first birthday party two years ago. ‘When Billy goes into the firm …' While
his
twenty-first, last summer, had passed without comment of any kind. And now this!

‘You won't regret it, Mama,' Billy said, smiling at his mother.

She smiled back at him, so warmly that her look could have been an embrace.

It was always the same, John thought, as his heart gave its familiar yearning tug at the sight. Whenever she looked at his brother or his sister, there was this easy warmth between them, this accepting, tolerant affection. It was something he had ached for all his life, and yet, whatever he'd done to earn it, it had never been given to him. But now, perhaps, it would all be different, for now she had given him a place in the firm. An important place, the sort of place he'd always dreamed of. I suppose I ought to say something to thank her, he thought, for the faces had turned his way again expectantly.

‘In two years, Mama,' he said, ‘I will double your profits. I give you my word.'

And at that she smiled at him too. ‘I don't doubt it,' she said.

Then she was speaking again, detailing company arrangements, praising old Bessie's husband, Thiss, for the way he'd been running the East Anglian branch of the business, appointing Cosmo Teshmaker as head of the London branch. Another surprise, because Mr Teshmaker was the company lawyer, but a surprise they should have been prepared for because his loyalty to the company was peerless.

The talk about the table buzzed on, but John didn't hear any of it. He was too busy with his thoughts. Now he could put all his carefully written plans into operation. Even when his mother signified that the meal was over and everybody else went rushing upstairs to get ready for the ball he was still absorbed.

He walked across to the window, and stood there, looking down at the sloping square of Angel Hill below him. It was full of stalls and crowded with people, for a fair was being held to celebrate the peace. Now that Wellington had finally defeated the French army and Napoleon had been sent into exile in Elba there was reason to celebrate.

Dusk had gathered while they had eaten their meal, and now rush lights were being lit beside the stalls and sideshows. Two huge lights were beginning to flare at the top of the swings, and he noticed that the moment they were lit the swings disappeared in a total and obliterating darkness. It was a curious phenomenon, and one he'd often observed, that the sudden arrival of light actually restricted one's vision, which was the very thing it was designed to assist.

There were so many puzzles, so many hazards. Life was beset with them. And the human hazards were the most difficult of all.

People were hard enough for him to contend with one at a time because he was terribly shy. In the mass they were impossible, constantly on the move, shifting and turning and avoiding, leaving sentences half finished, walking about or away, changing their direction, their appearance, their minds. Was it any wonder he preferred the company of his family and the splendid dependability of mathematics? Left to his own devices he would have avoided the fairground, which was very definitely not to his taste, and the victory ball, which he was going to attend because his mother expected it of him, and hidden himself away in his bedroom to continue work on his coach timetables.

His mother was snuffing out the candles, moving briskly about the room, and working at speed as she always did so
that she left cotton trails of smoke prickling in the air behind her. She was so quick. It was one of the many disconcerting things about her.

Now her skirts swished behind him and he could see her hand pale in the half-light, reaching forward towards the curtain. So he stood aside politely, thinking she wanted to draw them. But no, as he realized with the slight contraction of his heart that such knowledge always brought, she was going to talk to him.

‘Could you truly double our profits in two years?' she asked abruptly.

‘I believe so,' he answered. This was better. This was business. This was the thing he was best at.

‘Tell me how,' she said.

‘First,' he said happily, ‘we could extend our trade along all Mr Chaplin's coach routes. The Portsmouth route is well established now.' What a satisfaction to be able to make such a claim, for
he
had established it, and single-handedly what was more. ‘That being so …'

‘We should use the same method upon other routes. A sound enough argument in all conscience. Howsomever we en't the only newsagents nowadays. We may have the monopoly in London, Johnnie, but in the provinces there's competition a-plenty. How do 'ee propose to deal with that, eh?'

‘By timing,' he said. ‘That is how it could be done. Sometimes the local shops are first with the news and sometimes we are. If we could make certain that we were
always
first, then we would be the first shop that local people would visit, come what may.'

She cocked her head towards him, alert and listening and dark-eyed like a robin. ‘A matter we en't like to control, surely?'

‘Ah but we could, Mama. It is simply a question of how we use the coaches. That is all. At present we do what everyone else does. We despatch our papers as though they were passengers. Those for York travel on the York stage, those for Norwich on the Norwich stage, and so on.'

‘How else?'

‘Why from stage to stage Mama, without rest.
Passengers must pause for rest and refreshment, but why should our papers wait with them? They have no need of either.'

‘'Twould take a deal of organization,' his mother said thoughtfully.

It was a moment of such pride. Such triumph. ‘It is already done, Mama!'

Her dark eyes gleamed. ‘For York and Norwich?' she teased.

‘For every town we serve.' He was grinning like an idiot, his pleasure was so intense.

‘Indeed?' Still teasing, for she knew it was likely. Whatever else she might think of this brooding son of hers, his intelligence had never been in question.

‘I have been working upon such a scheme for – for rather a long time.' It was actually more than three years, and he'd enjoyed every minute of it, for mathematical calculations were the only solace when he was lonely. And being so shy he was often very lonely.

‘I would like to see your conclusions.'

‘My notebooks are upstairs,' he offered hopefully. ‘You could see them now if you had a mind to.'

But Billy was already leaping down the stairs two at a time, the way he always did when he was excited. He was spruced and ready for the rest of the evening. Delay was impossible.

The rhythm of his descent ended with the thud and scuffle of landing, and presently his disembodied face peered at them through the half-light and the half-open door. The bottle green of his coat merged with the bottle green shadows of the room, but the white linen of his neckcloth was clearly visible, arranged in such thick folds underneath his chin that it looked as though it was propping up his head. His bulbous forehead was noticeable, too, gleaming like mother-of-pearl in the light of the last two candles his mother had left burning in the sconces beside the door.

‘Oh come on, Johnnie,' he reproached. ‘Ain't you ready yet? We shall be late if you don't look sharp. It's the opening quadrille in less than ten minutes, you know. Can't miss that.'

John would have been more than happy to miss the entire ball but, as always, his mother gave him no chance to demur or even comment.

‘Quite right, Billy,' she said, dusting the palms of her hands against each other, swish, swish, the way she always did. Conversation over, ball begun in an instant: swish, swish. ‘I will see your notebooks first thing tomorrow morning, Johnnie.'

And so the ball had to be faced. There was nothing else for it. Now I shall be trodden into the ground, he thought, wryly, as he followed his family across the square. The ladies of Bury all had such enormous feet, and wine seemed to deprive them of their sense of direction. Still, at least it was in the Athenaeum.

John Easter liked the Athenaeum. It was such a proper building, designed according to strict classical principles in two neat storeys, its tall windows perfectly balanced, three on either side of the entrance and three on either side of the balcony, a dependable, pristine building, painted white and maintaining perfect poise despite the slope of the hillside on which it stood. If only they weren't holding a ball there he could have enjoyed it very much.

I shall stay beside Cosmo Teshmaker all evening, he decided, for Mr Teshmaker had a club foot and although he walked extremely well, with an odd gliding grace, he would hardly be able to dance. Yes, yes, that is what I will do. And he followed the lawyer into the ballroom and the sudden dazzle of the chandeliers.

The room was already buzzing with people, all dressed in their very best, the gentlemen red-faced with drink and gallantry, the ladies powdered and perfumed and twittering. John's heart contracted with alarm at the sound of them, for they were already gossiping, or fishing for compliments – which they manifestly didn't deserve – or hitting people with their fans, or giggling about nothing. How could he possibly make conversation if he were introduced to any of them?

There were three in the far corner tossing their heads about like trees in a storm. And what heads! The coiffeurs must have been working all day to produce such
complications. The tallest of the three had ringlets dangling beside her cheeks, plaits circling her ears and two stiff plumes of hair standing up above her forehead as though they'd been stuck there with glue. And her dress was almost as complicated as her hair, with a lace collar about her neck and at least three different kinds of sleeve, worn one on top of the next, and so many frills and flounces about the hem of her skirt that she looked like a wooden spinning top, particularly as she was moving with a similar speed and motion. Her two companions were similar creatures, and they were all making such a noise, like a flock of starlings. How could he manage conversation with ladies like that?

He was just wondering whether he could lead Mr Teshmaker into a quiet corner to discuss business when he saw his brother Billy approaching the shortest of the ladies, and bowing and grinning at her for all the world as if he were asking her to dance. Oh surely not! Passing the necessary pleasantries, that was what he'd be doing. But no, the shortest one was handing him her card, ringlets bobbing. And he was writing in it. Oh my goodness! Now I shall have to endure an introduction. I don't see how I can avoid it. I'll wager their feet are gargantuan.

‘An uncommon pretty trio,' Mr Teshmaker said. ‘Are they known to you?'

‘Why no,' John said. ‘Although I fear they soon will be. Billy seems to know 'em.'

‘Then perhaps I may prevail upon your brother for an introduction,' Mr Teshmaker said.

‘Do you intend to dance, sir?'

‘Why yes, indeed,' Mr Teshmaker said. ‘As often as I may and as there are young ladies who will agree to partner me.'

It was a blow. Really quite a severe blow, for what excuse for not dancing could he now find?

‘I had hoped to talk business to 'ee,' he said.