‘
Yes,
’
he said.
‘
Yes, all right.
’
He shut the door behind him and she gazed at it half smiling, half puzzled. He was by no means an easy man, and she had a feeling there would often be a clash of wills between them, if she worked for him. But she was sure life would never be dull or boring.
She started on the mail and screwed up an envelope to drop it into the waste-paper basket. But her glance
caught the sheet of crumpled paper on which he had been doodling. Suddenly curious, she took it out and smoothed it open. It was not so much a doodle as a very good drawing of a head.
The head of a very beautiful woman.
Julia stared at the drawing. This was someone he knew, she felt sure of it. Perhaps it wasn
’
t a quarrel with his father which had led him to leave the firm. Perhaps it was a broken love affair. Men must suffer in that way just as women did. It was nonsense to suppose they didn
’
t. And sometimes the only way to forget was to remove oneself from the scene which made it impossible or difficult. It was just the opposite with herself. She did not want memories of David to fade. They were far too precious to her.
She crumpled the doodle-drawing up again slowly and dropped it back into the waste-paper basket. She finished opening the mail and made some pencilled notes on each of them, then put on her sheepskin jacket and trudged through the snow to her houseboat.
Ten minutes later as the coffee was percolating she saw the shadow of
Mr.
Leighton pass one of the windows.
‘
Smells wonderful,
’
he said, as she opened the door to him.
‘D
o you like it black or white?
’
‘
Black, please,
’
he said, peeling off his tall rubber boots.
He looked round appreciatively as he entered the saloon with its studio couch, the cottage armchairs she had bought herself, the folding table and two dining chairs.
‘
This is different from the other houseboats,
’
he said. ‘It hasn
’
t a sun-deck or walk around verandah. I
’
ve just been having a look at some of them.
’
‘It is different,
’
she affirmed.
‘
This was actually designed for comfort—for winter bookings, in fact.
’
‘
Winter bookings?
’
he echoed.
‘
Surely—
’
‘
You
’
d be surprised. We
’
ve had bookings in November—even Christmas. It sleeps four. There
’
s a two
-
berth cabin the other side of the galley, and of course the studio couch makes a double bed.
’
‘
May I see around
?’
he asked.
‘
Of course.
’
He slid past her to the sleeping cabin as she lifted the coffee from the cooker. She took cups and saucers into the saloon and set out cheese and biscuits.
‘
Who designed it?
’
he asked, coming into the saloon again and dropping on to the couch.
‘Mr
.
—Hargreaves
’
son,
’
she told him, pushing the table close to where he was sitting.
He eyed her intently.
‘
Did you know him?
’
‘
Yes, I knew him. Sugar,
Mr.
Leighton?
’
He scooped up four spoonfuls of the Demerara sugar.
‘
And have some cheese and a biscuit,
’
she added.
She sat on one of the dining chairs and pulled it up
to the table. It was odd, this feeling of not wanting to talk about David, especially as he still seemed so close to her. But somehow, his father and herself had never talked about him either. They had no need to. Each had known instinctively that David was never far from either of their thoughts. And now she supposed she wanted to keep David to herself.
‘
How long have you been living in here?
’
asked the new owner of Wingcraft.
‘Oh, ever since—
’
she began without thinking, then broke off and ended: ‘About seven or eight months.
’
He gave her another of his looks and she feared he might ask her what she had been about to say when she broke off, but all he said was:
‘
You make very good coffee.
’
She smiled. ‘These things are very much a matter of individual taste. I
’
m glad I made it as you like it.
’
He regarded her for a moment or two in silence, then asked: ‘Have you made up your mind yet about staying on?
’
‘
Yes.
’
Suddenly she knew that she had.
‘
And?
’
he queried, before she had time to carry on.
‘
I
’
d like to stay—if you still want me.
’
He put down his cup. ‘Then that
’
s settled. Now. I notice our first bookings are end of March and beginning of April. That gives us roughly four weeks before we start getting busy.
’
‘
We shan
’
t be in full swing, of course, until May, although naturally July and August are the busiest months.
’
‘So between now and May we
’
ll have time to get the office looking a little less like a gardener
’
s shed and the whole place tidied up a bit.
’
‘Tidied up?
’
she queried suspiciously.
‘The grass cut, a few tubs of flowers around and some sort of order in the sheds.
’
She suppressed a sigh. ‘If I may say so, tubs of flowers would only be in the way.
’
‘We won
’
t put them where they
’
ll be in the way,
’
he answered firmly. ‘As a woman I
’
d have thought you
’
d like to see the place looking decorative.
’
‘It depends what you mean by ‘decorative
‘
.
’
She resisted the temptation to remind him that this was a boatyard, not the entrance to some palatial suite of offices in the middle of London or New York.
‘
To my mind, a boatyard has a charm all its own, and nature supplies all the embellishments that are necessary.
’
There was a silence. ‘Nature can always be improved upon or given a helping hand. You should know that,
’
he answered.
Julia wanted to come back at him again, but felt any further reply on the subject would constitute an argument. He would soon find out, she thought, that tubs of flowers along the water
’
s edge—if that was what he had in mind—would be very much in the way when boats were being pushed off or coming in to moor.
He thanked her for the coffee and rose, and she imagined she saw a faint smile of triumph on his face. He departed, and when she had washed the cups and saucers she went back to the office and answered the mail. When she returned there after lunch she saw that he had signed the ones she had left on her desk for him.
She looked at the clear, neat signature. Roger Leighton. Roger. She decided it suited him without asking herself why.
He came into the room where the radio and television sets were stored just as she was carrying one of them out.
‘
Where are you going with that?
’
he asked.
‘T
here
’
s a space in the linen store. I thought they could go in there.
’
‘And you were going to carry all this lot yourself? Give that to me. You can bring the transistors—though they look a poor lot—and I
’
d have thought most people had their own.
’
She hid a smile as he took the television set from her. It wasn
’
t really heavy. All the sets had only twelve-inch screens. Obviously, he was used to pampering women. Or bossing them. She heard him call out to Andy, and the youth came and began carrying the sets from one place to another. Soon the room was empty.
‘I
’
ll have those down, too
,’
the new boss said, indicating the duckboard shelves. ‘They
’
re hideous.
’
‘For an office, perhaps, but ideal for storage of goods like linen or paper—anything, in fact, which is capable of taking in moisture from the atmosphere.
’
‘
The atmosphere in places where those sort of things are stored shouldn
’
t have moisture in it,
’
he answered dogmatically.
‘
Store-rooms should be warm and dry.
’
Julia suppressed a sigh. It was all very well to say what should or should not be. Most boatyards started out modestly, their sheds and store-rooms added to as the business grew. The boat-hire business in Norfolk had grown beyond anything envisaged when two men first took out a rowing boat years ago at Wroxham and explored the river Bure and the many inlets and Broads.
Roger Leighton had strolled over to the window and was looking out on to the boatyard.
‘
I still think this whole set-up should be reorganized. This business of going outside from one place to another—it
’
s ridiculous. The office and store-rooms should all be under one roof—and even the sheds and repair shops connected by a covered-way.
’
The business executive talking again, thought Julia. What was the use of arguing with him?
‘
People who work in and around boatyards get used to popping in and out of doors,
’
she told him.
‘
Things are becoming different now, I suppose, with big takeovers, even in the boat-hire business. But most firms were embarked on by the owning of one or more craft and
built up
—not started with huge capitals. Of what use would it be to start rebuilding and reorganizing?
’
He turned slowly and looked at her, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
‘
You have a good deal to learn about the successful running of a business, Miss Barclay. You must always appear to be expanding. A look of prosperity attracts prosperity. Never appear to be content to just jog along. You know all the
clichés
, I
’
m sure.
“
Throw a sprat to catch a mackerel,
” “
money attracts money
”
and so on. If you
’
re afraid of spending money you
’
ll never make any.
’
Julia thought it all sounded revolting. ‘Does it never occur to you,
Mr.
Leighton, that there might be some people—if not most of them—in the boat-hire business simply because they love boats—not merely to make money?
’
‘Nonsense. Everybody likes to make money.
’
‘But some more than others.
’
‘Granted. However, for various reasons, we
’
ll just go ahead on the idea of improving the existing office of Wingcraft at the moment.
I’
ve found a painter and decorator who can come and start work of the place tomorrow. Once he
’
s done this room you can move in here while he does the outer office. If you would prefer it, of course, you can use the houseboat until it
’
s all done. Or better still, there
’
s a room in the house. Yes, that would be better,
’
he said with sudden decision.
‘We
’
ll transfer the whole lot there for a week or so.
’
And without waiting to hear whether she agreed or disagreed he went outside and called to Andy again. Julia would rather have taken her typewriter to the houseboat and carried on there, but she supposed on reflection it would make things rather difficult. He would not feel free to come and go to the houseboat. Quite honestly, she thought this was all something of a nuisance. She admitted that the office needed smartening up, but she would have done it without so much upheaval. On the whole, she was not at all sure that she was going to enjoy working with Roger Leighton after all.
‘You
’
d better come and tell Andy where you want things putting,
’
he said, coming back into the empty room.
‘
Yes, of course.
’
After all, he was the boss, she told herself as she followed him out, and she had agreed to work for him.
Julia had not been in the house for several weeks, and then only in the hall. Pending the sale of the place she had kept on
Mrs.
Harris who came daily to clean. All the same she was suddenly struck with the dreariness and drabness of both walls and furnishings. She might have been seeing it through Roger Leighton
’
s own eyes.
She directed Andy where to put the filing cabinet and rearranged the furniture to make more space.
‘Have you got a few minutes to spare
?’
Roger Leighton asked, gazing at the walls and ceiling with an expression of distaste.
‘
I
’
m at your disposal, of course,
’
she answered.
‘
Then come and give me your opinion with regard to a colour scheme for the living room. I can
’
t stand it as it is much longer.
’
Carefully controlling the flood of memories of David which crowded into her heart, Julia followed Roger across the hall. She stood in the doorway for a moment, and as clearly as if he were actually there, she saw David
’
s fair head leaning back on his favourite chair, then sitting at the piano and again bending down to put a fresh log on the open fire.
‘
The piano is about the only decent thing in the room,
’
said Roger Leighton, causing her visions to fade.
Julia glanced around the room. It was true. Profits had been ploughed back into the business rather than spent on things like new furniture or other home improvements, and David had spent his spare money on piano music and records.
‘There
’
s the record player and the album,
’
she pointed out.
‘Oh yes. But I expect the records are mainly pop.
’
A swift anger rose in her. ‘Why should you suppose any such thing? There might be some, but in the
main
they
’
re a very good collection of classics—whole symphonies and concertos. If you don
’
t want them—
’
She had been on the point of offering to buy them, but an enquiring look from him caused her to break off.
‘
Were you—a personal friend of the previous owners?
’
he asked.
She took a deep
b
reath.
‘
Yes, you could say that.
’
‘
Well, I
’
m sorry. But I hope you
’
re not going to be offended every time I criticize anything that belonged to them or any of their methods—that sort of thing.
’
‘Of course not. I can take honest criticism either of myself or—or a friend when it
’
s given in the right spirit, but—
’
‘But—what? Why do you so often break off in midsentence?
’
he demanded.
‘All right, since you press me. I was about to say that
you
so often jump to conclusions
.’
His eyebrows shot up.
‘
Don
’
t you ever do that yourself?
’
‘I suppose so—sometimes.
’
He nodded.
‘
So do we all.
’
Then, after a pause:
‘Right. Then I might keep the record player. Do you play the piano, by the way?
’
‘
A little.
’
‘What do you mean by a little?
’
She suppressed a sigh, wishing he would stop asking personal questions and talk about the decor of the room, if that was what he had brought her here for.
‘I suppose it depends on what your musical requirements are,
’
she told him. ‘I
’
m not up to professional standard, otherwise I wouldn
’
t be working here, would I? I suppose you might say I can play moderately difficult things reasonably well, but not always perfectly.
’
‘Fair enough. Come in and play any time you like. I don
’
t play myself, but I like to hear someone else—barring five-finger exercises. Now then, let me hear your ideas about decorating and furnishing this room.
’
Julia glanced around. Homely was the kindest word which could be said about it. There was a large, old-fashioned sofa and a couple of heavy armchairs, a television set of the old cabinet variety, but no books. Neither David nor his father had been great readers. In the spring, summer and autumn, their spare time had been little enough, and in the winter David preferred either to play the piano or listen to the records while his father read the local and national newspapers from cover to cover. And for the short time Julia had stayed with them, she had been content to
li
sten to David
’
s playing, too, or to take a turn in playing herself, though her performance lacked the brilliance of his. ‘Dreaming again?
’
came Roger Leighton
’
s voice.
She started. She must have spent more time with her thoughts than she realized. ‘I
’
m sorry. But look,
Mr.
Leighton, why don
’
t you get a decorator in and ask his
opinion?
’
‘Perhaps I will, but I want your ideas and opinions, too. I want the room—in fact the whole house—to have a feminine touch. It
’
s a little too masculine at the moment even for me.
’
A feminine touch. Why? If he was thinking of getting married why couldn
’
t his future wife choose her own furniture and colour schemes? Julia was sure she herself wouldn
’
t want another woman choosing for
her.
But perhaps he was planning a surprise. He folded his arms and waited, a look of resigned patience on his face.
Julia suppressed another sigh and glanced around the room again, frowning slightly.
‘It
’
s really a little difficult to know what to do with this room,
’
she said.
‘
It isn
’
t really big enough to accommodate a grand piano and leave space for much else. A lot depends, of course, on how much entertaining you intend doing.
’
‘Well, some, naturally, but I go for the small, intimate parties rather than filling my house with people I
’
m merely acquainted with.
’
Julia smiled faintly. They would have that much in common anyway.
‘Do you know what I once thought I
’
d like to do with this room? But you probably wouldn
’
t agree,
’
she said.
‘Try me.
’
‘
Well, the dining room is next door. It
’
s been very little used, and I don
’
t suppose you
’
ll sit in state there very often alone. I think it would be a good idea to knock part of the room down and have an open plan dining/sitting room. Make the division about here—
’
she indicated the end of the piano—
’
have the same carpet throughout, preferably in some rich dark colour, with pale walls. Velvet curtains for winter, and perhaps none in the summer on the dining side with the french windows looking out on to what
ought
to be the garden. Lighter armchairs than these,
’
she went on, touching one of the present cumbersome ones,
‘
and a long settee, possibly of cane. I
’
m sure you
’
ll want to have a new dining room suite, too. I saw a lovely one in town the other day. It had a name and a very unusual design in mahogany. The table had two sets of centre legs—if you know what I mean—
’