Lucy and Meriel allowed themselves one day off a week, to do whatever they wanted to. Meriel sometimes went home to see her parents, but Lucy usually travelled on buses, through the towns and villages within a few miles of Cwm Derw, wandering around, her mind on houses, her eyes glancing at any property bearing a ‘For Sale’ notice. These were usually home-made and she would often knock and introduce herself and occasionally find them a new client.
She also placed advertisements in shop windows and on village notice boards. She found when she went again these had usually been taken down even though she had paid the threepence a week for their display. George Dexter, she guessed, as she replaced them and requested they stayed.
Although she still lived at home, Lucy didn’t see much of her family. When she was not at the pictures or out with Meriel on trips looking for prospective clients she spent the evenings in her room, reading, or listening to her gramophone, which she had bought at a house sale she and Meriel had attended. She avoided the rest of the family, only going downstairs to make a cup of tea or cocoa.
It was a long time since she felt a part of the household, even her name was different from the others. She paid her weekly contribution by leaving the money on the mantelpiece where it would be picked up, presumably by her stepfather who managed the household’s expenses, some time when she was not there to see.
She scarcely remembered her father; her memories were not of a man, moving and talking and laughing, but as a white face on a white pillow, huge eyes that stared into space but seemed not to see. She had vague images of him lying in bed in the darkened front room, where the curtains were almost fully closed, covered except for his pale face, quiet and with an aura of sickness and indifference that discouraged her from staying with him.
She remembered most clearly the day he had died; the house hushed and darkened, whispering people coming and going, filling the house with mourners dressed in black, the house smelling of flowers and mothballs. She had been just seven when he died and her mother had hastily married Douglas Lloyd.
She and Douglas did not get along. He had walked into the house and had expected to take over the running of the place, be masterful. Her mother had loved it and Lucy had rebelled. Although until then a mild-mannered child, her protests were loud and distressing and completely unquenchable. After a while, with her mother and her new stepfather delighting in the prospect of a new child, she gave up trying and, left to her own devices, she had slipped out of the family circle, a lodger no one particularly wanted. Three babies arrived and Lucy felt like a complete outsider from the sound of her stepsister’s first cry. Three sisters and all too far away in age to be her friend, and to make things worse, she had been expected to look after them while her mother and stepfather went out most evenings.
She wasn’t resentful, she quite liked her three stepsisters, Dawn, Diana and Deborah, but she did feel sad and lonely in spite of the full household. Douglas, her stepfather, rarely spoke to her, calling her ‘the girl’ when he referred to her, which was rare. She stayed because there was nowhere else to go, her wage as a hairdresser was too small to allow her to rent a place of her own. Her one attempt to share, with Jennie James, had been a failure.
None of her stepsisters were married either. The devotion of her mother and the over-zealous protection of their father made it impossible for them to meet and make friends with people of their own age. Neither parent had felt so protective towards her and, although it had caused some dismay in the past, Lucy was now grateful for their indifference – which had given her freedom – of a sort.
The sad truth was that she longed for someone to share her life. Freedom was all very well, but it could mean loneliness as well. There was no one to whom she was number one, no one hugged her and talked to her about their intimate dreams and ambitions. She had dreams but they lacked excitement with no one to share them. Although she lived in a house with five other people and was never far away from another human being, she always saw herself as sitting outside a circle, looking in, invisible to the rest.
She still thought about Gerald Cook and wondered how they would be if they should meet again. Would he smile and show pleasure? Or back away, afraid of her expecting too much? Foolishly she sometimes practised how she would smile at him, act casually, walk on as though he was of no consequence to her, a person left far away in her past and almost forgotten. Then there were other moments when she imagined seeing him and running towards him to be swept up in his arms and… she fought away those dreams. They only led to greater loneliness. Even when they had been engaged, Gerald had never been demonstrative, more afraid of what people would think than willing to show his feelings.
She knew that she had been fortunate meeting Meriel and being offered a share of a new business which she was already enjoying more than anything else she had done. She had only one regret at becoming Meriel’s partner; it was now impossible for her to leave home and find a place of her own. Her income was seriously reduced and her savings were gone. She managed on the little she earned with her deliveries, although much of that was pooled with the small amount of commission they managed to collect.
As she walked towards the bus stop to return to Cwm Derw she thought again of Gerald, whom she had once dreamed of marrying and around whom her thoughts had once been centred to the exclusion of everything else. She no longer suffered the miseries of rejection, his interest had faded slowly and the realization he no longer wanted her had been less painful that it might otherwise have been. Her regrets were not for Gerald the man, but for what he had represented. She grieved for the home and children they might have had.
She wondered vaguely if he had changed and whether he had found that special someone. Her communication with Gerald’s family had been reduced to a Christmas card but she knew that if she hadn’t sent one, they wouldn’t have bothered to send one to her. Best to let it go, she decided. It’s 1950 and it’s ‘off with the old’ even if there’s no ‘on with the new’.
She was walking along a country road and stopped suddenly, all thoughts of Gerald and his family fading as she saw a man struggling to erect a For Sale board. She pulled a leaflet from her bag, silently thanking Meriel’s father for providing them, and walked across to him.
The man was pleasant enough but he shook his head at the mention of business.
‘It’s the Lord’s day and not a time for talking about money matters,’ he said. He spoke kindly as though presuming she must have simply forgotten it was a Sunday. ‘I wouldn’t even be fixing this today if it hadn’t fallen. I worried it could have caused an accident, leaning out over the hedge.’
‘Can I call and see you tomorrow?’ she asked. ‘It’s just that we have a few people on our books looking for a house and we might be able to arrange a sale quite quickly.’
Though still polite, he raised a hand like a barrier to her words, and said, ‘Tomorrow, young lady, not on the Lord’s day.’
‘Thank you.’ She smiled at him and replaced the leaflet in her bag. ‘May I come tomorrow morning and discuss ways we can help, and—?’
‘I will pleased to talk to you – tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow,’ she said, backing away. She turned and smiled at him again before disappearing around the corner.
The man continued with his work. He was tall and alarmingly thin, dressed formally in a navy suit and white shirt. His neat collar and tie seemed too large for his skinny neck. On his head he wore a rather battered homburg, he was hardly dressed for fixing signs, Sunday or not. Lucy was grinning as she got on to the bus for Cwm Derw. He was an intriguing character with kindly blue eyes and an expression of resignation and tolerance as though the world had shown him its worst and he’d expected no less. She looked forward to the following day’s visit.
It was almost three o’clock and the weather had been overcast all day giving the impression it was later than it actually was. A chill March wind gusted occasionally cutting through her clothes. She didn’t go home; in spite of the gloom it was too early to incarcerate herself in her room. Instead she walked down the lane to Badgers Brook where she found Meriel and several friends enjoying tea and home-made biscuits, sitting around the log fire – a pleasant sight on such a dull afternoon.
To her surprise, she saw Teifion, standing near the window. He looked ill at ease and was obviously unwelcome. She presumed he had come to apologize to Meriel again, for the way he had abandoned her a long way from home. It was clear that Meriel did not intend to listen. He stood away from the others who seemed to have gathered closer together to isolate him further.
People immediately shuffled around to make room for her. Kitty Jennings, Meriel’s immediate neighbour, went to the kitchen and returned with a cup of tea, and a tin of biscuits was passed around. The conversation passed briefly to what Lucy had been doing but she didn’t mention the prospect she had half arranged for the following day. Teifion Dexter might be carrying a flag of truce but she didn’t trust him for a moment. ‘I’ve something exciting to tell you later,’ she whispered to Meriel.
Teifion watched as Meriel mouthed the words, ‘A prospect?’ Lucy nodded excitedly. ‘Never! Not on a Sunday?’
Teifion left soon after but Meriel didn’t get up and didn’t show him to the door. ‘He hadn’t been invited,’ she explained to Lucy, ‘he isn’t welcome and doesn’t deserve my usual politeness.’
‘Came to apologize – again – had he?’
‘I don’t know for certain, but from the little he said I think my father must have gone to see George Dexter. I didn’t want him to, but if it means he’ll leave us alone from now on I won’t complain.’
Teifion drove home with anger in his heart. He had left home because of the stupid way he had done what his father had asked of him, left his home and his job, and after all that, Meriel’s refusal to forgive him seemed unfair. His regrets were genuine and she ought to understand that.
Foolishly he had imagined being welcomed into the friendly group at Badgers Brook and being accepted for the way he had changed. After walking away from his home, family and his safe, secure occupation, he had felt a rosy glow, but Meriel’s attitude had washed that feeling away and left him feeling only humiliation and growing anger. He was sorry for what he had done, so how dare she behave so meanly.
He thought of the word ‘prospect’ that had passed between Lucy and Meriel and after a moment of hesitation, decided that if she wasn’t going to allow him the chance to apologize and try to explain, then it wouldn’t do any harm to please his father and take the client from them. After all, a prospect was just that, a possibility, until an agreement had been reached.
Meriel and Lucy opened the office the next morning and at ten o’clock Lucy set off by bus, leaving the car in case Meriel needed it, to find the man who had been so adamant that the Lord’s day was not a day for discussing business, hoping he would be willing to listen to her.
A few moments later, Teifion followed the bus by car, staying well back in case Lucy saw him, and catching up only when the bus had been lost to his sight for a while. He saw her hesitate beside a hedge with a home-made sign and walk up the path. He cruised past and parked close by. She came out about fifteen minutes later and Teifion saw she was smiling. He allowed a few minutes to pass then knocked on the door.
He would never again be persuaded to act as unkindly as before, his father’s hold over him had been broken that evening, but he wasn’t averse to stealing their sale. Hardly recognizable, but still deep within him was his need for his father’s approval.
When Lucy learned from Meriel a couple of days later that the sale had been given to Ace, George Dexter’s agency, she was angry. ‘If you go and talk to him, reminding him that he broke his word, and that’s a kind of dishonesty, we might still retrieve it,’ Meriel said. ‘Surely that’s worse than discussing business on a Sunday?’
Lucy went there straight away, leaving Meriel in the office, and knocked loudly on the door. When the door opened she faced a small, red-haired woman.
It took some persuading to be allowed inside but eventually the woman told her the reason her husband had changed his mind was because the second caller had explained that besides being an estate agent, his father was also an experienced auctioneer.
‘My partner has been dealing with auctions for several years,’ Lucy assured her. ‘She has had training in all aspects of the property business. But why do you want to auction the property? There’s a risk we might not reach the valuation we agree on.’
‘It’s all the stuff in the shed,’ the woman explained. She led Lucy through the house and opened the door of a large brick building. ‘My husband is often given things to sell to raise money for our church and he’s been neglectful and allowed it to build up.’
That was an understatement, Lucy thought, as she gazed at the jumble of furniture, toys and odds-and-ends that were stacked untidily.
‘If you will allow us to sort through and label everything, maybe discard a few things, clean and repair others, I’m sure we could make quite a few extra pounds for your church with this.’
‘Really? The other man, Mr – er—’ she queried.
‘Mr Dexter?’ Lucy offered.
‘Yes, that was his name. Mr Teifion Dexter. He thought it best to empty the shed and discard the items to make the property more attractive.’
‘Did he! And of course he offered to dispose of them for you.‘
‘Well, yes.’
‘He’d sell it and keep the money he raised.’ Lucy said no more but her words were convincing because she believed them to be true. With the larger auctions Dexter’s could have added the best of the furniture, and many of the oddments would also have found buyers.
‘I’ll talk to my husband when he gets home,’ the woman promised.
Lucy thanked her, gave her their business card and left with her fingers crossed.
‘There were all sorts of things in that shed.’ she told Meriel when she got back to the office. ‘Besides furniture, there were boxes of china, toys and even a hair drier, would you believe.’
‘A hair drier?’
‘And other things connected with hairdressing.’
‘You’d be able to value that stuff. I do hope they give us a chance to go through it all, goodness knows what we’ll find. Enough to make them a bit more money for certain. Just imagine, our first auction! It’s so exciting.’
‘I might buy the drier myself,’ Lucy said thoughtfully.
‘What on earth for? You aren’t thinking of leaving me, are you?’ Meriel was alarmed.
‘Not leave, but if I used the back room, I might be able to earn more money than I do making deliveries and I could do the office work in between customers.’ She laughed. ‘Very popular we’ll be, first stealing work from Dexter’s and then me taking clients from Jennie James’s hairdresser’s shop!’
‘We are rather desperate,’ Meriel admitted. ‘There isn’t really enough work to go round, but I don’t intend to give up.’
‘Let’s see what we find in the shed,’ Lucy replied. She frowned as she thought about it. ‘Sets and cutting only, no perms, that wouldn’t be too difficult to organize – if we get the drier, and if it works.’
It was Lucy who saw the man they now knew as Mr William Roberts-Price, when he called to tell them they would be dealing with the house sale.
‘I had a word with the young man at Dexter’s, and his father, and I’m satisfied that they were in the wrong trying to cheat you out of my sale and also that I was wrong to be so easily convinced.’ He sat at the desk opposite Lucy and they were filling out the details, with Lucy making a list of things she needed to do when he broke off in the middle of a sentence and started over her shoulder. She turned and saw he was staring at Meriel. ‘Oh, I don’t think you’ve met my partner,’ she said, curious at his nervous stuttering as she introduced Meriel. He seemed anxious to leave, and the information was quickly taken and he hurried from the office with hardly another glance at Meriel who had come to stand beside Lucy at the desk.
‘Strange man,’ Lucy said.
Meriel shrugged. ‘So long as he allows us to act for him I don’t care, do you?’
‘He changed as soon as he saw you, Meriel. I wonder why?’
‘Oh, perhaps I remind him of someone. I certainly don’t know him.’
They began at once to make the initial preparations for the house sale. A letter was delivered by a rather dowdy young woman who looked about twenty, later that afternoon, telling them they could clear the contents of the shed the following day.
‘Wonderful,’ Meriel said. ‘But how are we to man the office and go to the shed to clear the junk? That job will need both of us.’
Kitty Jennings, Meriel’s neighbour at Badgers Brook, offered a solution. That evening, when they talked about the problem they faced she at once offered to sit there and take messages. ‘Bob will come as well and between us we should be able to cope,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Bit of fun it’ll be, won’t it, Bob, love?’ And so it was arranged.
Early the following morning, with Lucy driving and armed with notepads, pencils, measuring tape, dusters and polishing cloths, they set off. The house appeared to be empty and after knocking a few times they opened the door and went inside. Everything was neat and clean but rather sparse. The furniture was functional, mostly built-in wardrobes and cupboards, which on examination contained only a few clothes and those were very old-fashioned. There were very few ornaments, and no personal items in sight.
‘More like a house of correction than a home,’ Lucy whispered. They dealt with the measurements and assessment of the house first, feeling a sadness enveloping them so they were relieved to escape to the rather more cheerful muddle in the shed. They had brought a flask of tea and they sat in the tidy garden beside the precisely clipped trees and mown grass with its straight edging and wondered at the lack of flowers.
‘They don’t believe life is to be enjoyed, do they?’ It was Meriel’s turn to whisper. There was something about the place that forbade inappropriate laughter.
Fortunately the day was dry so they dragged out the contents of the shed into the garden and listed everything of value. Some of the furniture was of good quality and they discussed the prices they might bring with enthusiasm. The boxes containing china were weakened by damp and in danger of losing their contents so the breakables were taken out and placed in some empty tea chests.
Lucy had been right about the hairdressing equipment and she recognized some of it as having come from the hairdresser’s where she had worked.
‘Jennie must have bought new, but these seem to be in reasonable condition. But I’d have to have them checked and overhauled,’ she said happily.
They were just beginning to replace the sorted items back into the shed, having discarded a lot of broken and unsaleable pieces, when an angry voice called over to them.
‘What d’you think you’re doing? I’m going to call the police!’ A young man in army uniform ran towards them and glared at the stuff spread over the garden.
‘It’s all right, Mr and Mrs Roberts-Price know we’re here.’
‘We’re agents, selling the house and we’re sorting out the contents of the shed,’ Lucy added, as the man came close, glaring at them both.
‘Stay there and don’t move,’ the young man warned. He had red hair and his face was almost the same colour, as anger brought heat to his skin.
Meriel wasn’t having that. ‘We will not! My partner and I will continue with our work. We don’t have time to play games!’ Turning her back on the man she carried a smoker’s chair back into the shed and rather more reluctantly, Lucy began to lift an oak flower-pot stand.
‘I said stop what you’re doing!’
‘Please stop shouting,’ Meriel said with a sigh. ‘Now, Lucy, d’you think we could manage this oak hall stand between us?’
The man ran off and came back with a notebook. ‘I demand to know who you are and what you’re doing in my parents’ house.’
Meriel pointed to her handbag. ‘Pass me my bag and I’ll give you our card,’ she said snapping her fingers, and obediently the man passed her the bag. She thrust a card at him and continued to repack the shed.
‘Where is my father?’
‘I have no idea, now please stop interrupting us or we’ll be here till midnight.’
By this time Lucy could hardly lift a thing, her muscles useless as she struggled to hold back her laughter, and when the man finally went into the house they both collapsed and leant against the walls of the shed, helpless in the throws of wild giggles.
‘Meriel, how can you talk to a stranger like that?’ Lucy gasped. ‘The poor man didn’t know how to deal with you.’
‘You’ve heard of attack being the best form of defence? That was it in action! My father taught me other things besides selling houses, you know!’
They had already finished sorting and repacking the shed and Meriel was in the car when Mrs Roberts-Price returned. Lucy was standing beside the abandoned rubbish and checking through the list she had made. The young man came over with his mother to speak to Lucy and, rather embarrassed, explained that he’d been away on manoeuvres and out of touch with his parents for a few weeks and didn’t know about the sale.
After introducing himself as Noah, and adding that he had a sister called Martha, Lucy smilingly assured him they weren’t upset, trying not to laugh again as she remembered the peremptory way Meriel had dealt with his protest. ‘We’ll prepare a list of the items we think we can sell and pop it in the post this evening. You’ll get it tomorrow,’ she assured them, before joining Meriel.
‘Thank goodness Mrs Roberts-Price arrived or we might have been locked in the shed!’ Lucy said to her friend, as she started the engine. ‘Could we arrange the sale here, in their garden, d’you think?’ she suggested as they drove away. Meriel nodded.
‘Better than trying to move it, and hiring a hall would take some of the profit. Yes, that’s a good idea, Lucy. We’ll sell it on site, and that bossy brat of theirs can do the carrying!’
Kitty and Bob had managed well, dealing with a few enquiries and even arranging an appointment for a prospective buyer to call the following morning.
‘It was fun,’ Kitty told them, ‘and any time you need to be out of the office, just ask and we’ll help, won’t we, Bob?’
‘We certainly will, and if you like I’ll make you a display board for that wall, in case you get a lot more clients. Best to be prepared, eh?’
They stayed late that evening, arranging lists of the items they had found in the shed, then typing them out with a carbon copy for their file. When the letter was posted they sat for a while and went through their achievements so far. There had been very few sales.
‘The truth is, there isn’t the work for two estate agents in this small town,’ Meriel said. ‘Dexter’s have been here so long they’re the automatic choice for the locals. I don’t know what we can do to change that.’
‘If only we could let people know that they cheat.’
‘That’s difficult ground, Lucy. It’s an impossible thing to prove, following you and persuading the man to change from us to Dexter’s, and possibly intending to cheat the Roberts-Prices out of the sale of the shed contents. Who would believe us?’
‘The best thing we can do is impress people with our expertise. Sell the Roberts-Price’s house quickly and make them some extra money from the auction. News gets around fast, specially in a small town like Cwm Derw.’
Fortunately someone came into the office the following day and after looking around the Roberts-Prices’ house, and being assured that the shed would be cleared of the contents, they agreed to buy.
Leo Hopkins came to the auction and bought a hall stand for a little more than they hoped to get. ‘It’s a birthday present for my mother,’ he told Meriel. Most of the stuff went that day and later, Elsie and Ed Connor, who owned the bed and breakfast establishment, bought all the china and some of the other items that were left. Lucy acquired the hair drier and a box of sundry items in case she decided to start hairdressing and Meriel bought even more chairs and a side table for Badgers Brook.
‘Not more chairs?’ Lucy laughed. ‘How many visitors do you expect?’
‘Lots!’ was the reply. ‘It’s that sort of house.’
George Dexter drove past the house soon after the sale had ended. He stopped and looked back at the house and, as he was parked, he was overtaken by a stream of cyclists. Eight in all, each bicycle loaded with pannier bags and saddle bags, obviously touring the area. They stopped and one of the men walked back to ask him if there was a place where they might spend the night. ‘We lost our way, then there were a couple of punctures so we’re a long way from the youth hostel where we intended to stay,’ he explained. ‘We all have sleeping bags, it’s just a bit of someone’s floor we need.’
George mentioned Elsie and Ed Connor’s Bed and Breakfast. ‘But I don’t know whether they’ll have room for all of you,’ he said doubtfully. Then he pointed to the recently sold house. ‘Religious family in there, they wouldn’t turn you away I’m sure. Shall I knock and ask them for you?’
The young man in uniform opened the door but he shook his head. ‘We’ve no room, I’m afraid. There are only three bedrooms and they’re in use.’
George returned to the cyclists and shrugged. Then a thought occurred to him and he smiled. ‘I’ve just thought of the perfect place.’ He directed them all to Badgers Brook. ‘There’s a woman there who is sure to help. Good Samaritan she is. She won’t turn you away.’
When Lucy saw the group of people walking up the path carrying assorted bags she called Meriel. She opened the door to their knock, listened to their request and called Meriel again, this time more urgently.
Meriel shook her head, but a reminder, that the day was ending and they were still a long way from their original destination made her give in. ‘But I have to ask my landlord before I let you come in,’ she said.
Lucy offered to go and see Geoff. She grabbed her coat and after making Meriel promise she wouldn’t let the eight strangers inside before she returned, she hurried off up the lane towards the town. She fortunately found Geoff and Connie at home.
Geoff had no complaints, but he insisted on coming to see them and make sure Meriel would be safe with the house full of strangers. ‘I’ll stay with her tonight,’ Lucy said at once. ‘I’ll call to tell Mam I won’t be home tonight, and go straight back.’
Geoff gave her a lift in the firm’s van, firstly to her parents where she left a note and gathered a few clothes, then back to Badgers Brook. Kitty and Bob were there as well as Stella and Colin from the post office. Meriel laughed. ‘What a place this is for spreading news! I wonder who else will turn up to help?’
‘Lucky you bought all those chairs,’ Geoff said.
Lucy went straight to the kitchen to start making the inevitable tea and standing at the sink was Gerald Cook.
‘Good heavens! Lucy! Fancy meeting you. How are you? Great to see you. What are you doing here, I thought you’d still be with your mam and dad? Still at the hairdresser’s?’ He was embarrassed and the questions came in a breathless stream.
‘Hello, Gerald.’ His unexpected appearance startled her, and a shyness overcame her, but newly acquired confidence forbade her showing it. Her response was not what he would have expected. ‘You’re still with your mam and dad, I suppose,’ she replied with a sweet smile. ‘Never the adventurous kind, were you?’
‘I’m only there to help out. I’d have been off long ago if Dad hadn’t needed my help. The garden and the bicycle repairs. That’s how I joined this club.’
‘Going to start a new life in Australia, weren’t you? Or was it America?’ Her heart was racing and she wondered where her sarcasm came from. She had been without him too long for resentment, in fact she was amused at his reaction to her casual greeting. She had hardly felt a tinge of a thrill when she saw him standing there. Whatever she had once felt, he was now a rather boring part of a previous life and no longer had the ability to hurt her.
‘What are you doing now?’ he asked, moving aside for her to refill the kettle.
‘Oh, I’m working for an estate agent,’ she replied.
Meriel came into the room then and, after a brief and very casual introduction, she said, ‘Lucy is too modest. We are partners in a successful and fast-growing estate agency – Evans and Calloway.’
‘Really? I’m impressed, Lucy. Where did you learn this new skill?’
Lucy was about to say she was still learning, but again that confidence and the need to impress changed her mind. ‘I’m a business woman, Gerald,’ she said with a casual shrug. ‘It’s something that comes naturally to me.’
‘That’s right,’ Meriel added. ‘Lucy is amazingly clever. She’d succeed at any business she undertook, luckily for me, she chose this one.’
They both walked away from him then, carrying trays holding cups and a milk jug into the living room where people were sprawled around the floor. ‘Shout when the kettle boils, will you?’ Lucy called back. After all the months of waiting for him to make up his mind, followed by the disappointment of their parting, she felt like a new woman and she was enjoying it.
She stayed the night with Meriel but neither of them slept well. With so many strangers in the house they couldn’t relax. They woke early the following morning and tiptoed their way through the recumbent bodies covering the floor. One of them rose and waved sleepily. ‘Morning, Gerald,’ Lucy whispered. He followed them into the kitchen and helped set a tray for three and when Meriel said they would need to go to the baker for bread, to provide a breakfast before the cyclists set off on the next leg of their journey, he at once offered to go.
During the night Lucy had explained about the engagement and its end and thanked Meriel for supporting her as she had boasted in a very uncharacteristic way, to let Gerald know he hadn’t been the cause of prolonged grief. While he set off on his cycle with a couple of emptied pannier bags to collect the loaves they talked some more.
‘I suppose I was unfair when I made veiled criticism about his still living at home. I’m still with my parents and hating it.’
‘Then leave.’ Meriel smiled. ‘You’re here more than you are at home, what you give your mother each week will go into the pot and we would be slightly better off. The rent is cheap and the gas bill is about all we’d have to find. Wood keeps the fire going and we can do some of the cooking on that to save gas.’
Lucy’s eyes glowed as she stared at her friend. ‘I expected to live at home until I married, but that’s less and less likely and I could be there for the rest of my life, playing second fiddle to my three stepsisters. But—’
‘Come on, Lucy, you trusted me enough to leave the hairdressers where you’d worked since you left school. You might as well share Badgers Brook, you’re hardly at home apart from sleeping and it is the most peaceful place you can imagine. The bird song is your wake-up call and the night sounds of gently rustling leaves and owls and foxes become a part of wonderful dreams.’
There were stirrings from the living room and at the same time the back door opened as Gerald returned with the bread. Lucy gave Meriel a hug, then held out a hand. ‘Meet your new lodger, unless Geoff has any objection.’
‘I’ll ask Geoff the moment I see him,’ Meriel called, as she ran to relieve Gerald of the freshly baked, delicious smelling loaves.
‘If he’s the man who came last night,’ Gerald called, having heard the last few words, ‘you can ask him in less than a minute, he’s on his way.’
Meriel opened the back door and heard the double slam of van doors, then Geoff came up the path followed by his wife, Connie, who was carrying her inevitable picnic basket.
‘Just in time for breakfast,’ Meriel called.
Geoff and Connie willingly agreed to Lucy sharing the house, and with the departure of the cyclists and the bustle of moving furniture to prepare for Lucy’s move, the day had the air of celebration. ‘Like everything we do in this friendly house,’ Meriel explained happily.
A man called at the office the following morning and, glancing around, asked, ‘Oh, I see the men are out of the office. When can I speak to the proprietor, please?’ To Meriel’s surprise, Lucy’s voice changed.
‘Would that be Mr Evans or Mr Calloway you’d be wanting, sir?’ Lucy asked in a slightly stupid tone.
‘Either, as long as it’s a man who knows what he’s doing.’ He spoke with a hint of irritation.
‘He? Oh sorry, sir, we can’t help you there. There’s only us two women and between us we don’t make up the quality of one man.’
Alarmed at the possibility of losing a client, Meriel stood up and offered her hand. ‘I’m Meriel Evans and this is my partner, Lucy Calloway.’
The man threw back his head and laughed. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s unusual to find two pretty women dealing with house sales.’
‘I’m sorry too,’ Lucy said. ‘I’m usually very sensible, I don’t know what came over me, except that it’s a wonderful day, I’ve just found the perfect place to live and I found the opportunity irresistible.’
He sat at the desk and explained. ‘I’m looking for a business premises, a workroom at the back and small shop at the front, in a place where there are lots of passers-by. Can you help?’ he asked. He kept staring at Meriel until she felt a slight glow in her cheeks, he really was rather charming. She pushed back her long auburn hair and was thankful Lucy had trimmed and washed it the previous evening. It was a great advantage having a hairdresser as a friend!
Meriel pretended to look through the papers for something suitable but Lucy admitted there was nothing on their books that moment. ‘We’ll make a note of your name and address and let you know the moment something comes in,’ she said.
‘In that case, can I take you two ladies to lunch – just to make sure you keep me in mind,’ he added, staring at Meriel with interest brightening his pale hazel eyes. Meriel had no hesitation in accepting.
Although he was talking to both of them his gaze hardly left Meriel’s face through most of the hour. Her greatest disappointment was when he referred to his wife, but she later gathered that the wife had left and a divorce was imminent. The day was certainly looking up.
The reason for his enquiry about premises was unclear. The friend who was the possible client would call them, they were told, and later, when they talked about the man, they both admitted that the explanation was as vague as the man was handsome. ‘And worst of all,’ Meriel added, ‘was that he didn’t give us his name or address. Which was odd because we both asked several times and offered him a pad on which to write it but he avoided doing so. Who on earth was he? And more importantly, what did he want with us?’
George Dexter had learned from Teifion that the house of the Roberts-Price family contained some valuable old pieces and he wanted to have a look. They might be persuaded to sell a few and if they did he wanted to be the recipient. Using the excuse of the stranded cyclists he called the following morning and told them a place had been found for them to stay. Mrs Roberts-Price invited him in and showed him into a cold, sparsely furnished front room. It was apparent the room was only used for the occasional visitor. A three-piece suite, table, an aspidistra in a pot on a matching pillar, and a couple of ornamental tea caddies on the mantelpiece was all it contained. He wasn’t going to see much unless he could find an excuse to look at the other rooms. He sat there in the cold soulless place while she went to find her husband.
He stood up and looked around the walls and saw behind where he was sitting a small low table on which was a brass-bound family Bible. Idly, without real interest, he opened it and saw page after page of entries relating to the families, old faded spidery writing and many photographs, some stuck in, others loose. Then he noticed a marker and opened that page to see a small notepad labelled, Prayers Are Asked For – followed by a list of names and the reason for the prayers. The top one was for Our Dear Lost Child, still sadly missed. George presumed a child had died and they hadn’t been able to write the actual word. He heard footsteps returning and closed the heavy book and returned to his seat.
He didn’t stay long, he just told them that the cyclists had been offered a place to stay and would now be on their way.
The serious-faced man glanced at the table as George stood to leave and asked, ‘You were interested in our family Bible, Mr Dexter?’
‘Sorry, but I did glance at it, I was intrigued by the prayer list. The lost child, you had a baby who died, did you? That’s very sad.’
‘No, lost doesn’t mean dead, Mr Dexter. Now, we must get on. Thank you for taking the trouble to call, but any items for sale will be dealt with by Evans and Calloway.’
As he left, his disappointment at not finding anything to buy was forgotten as he puzzled over the lost child. What did it mean? You don’t lose children. They can die, or be adopted or taken from you for various reasons. He wondered which of those things was represented by the nameless child at the top of the prayer list.
He checked the time and realized he had to hurry as he was auctioneer at a farm sale in less than two hours. As he was about to get into his car a voice called and he looked back to see the couple waving, beckoning him back. Conscious of the time and also filled with hope of a deal, he slammed the car door and went to rejoin them.
‘We have changed our minds. We still have a few things we won’t need at our new place, and feel they should be handled separately from the church gifts, to avoid confusion.’
With hope rising he followed them into the house. As he staggered down the stairs, carrying the top of a marble washstand, for which he had paid ten shillings, Mr Roberts-Price followed close behind him with a beautiful gilded mirror, dusty from being hidden away in a cupboard. His wife was dragging the lower part of the washstand from the bedroom. Trying to avoid getting his clothes dirty George lost his grip, slipped and fell. He landed against the corner of the marble washstand top and the mirror hit him on the side of his head.
Teifion was at an hotel having attended a reunion of some ex-RAF friends when the manager told him he was wanted on the telephone. The explanation that he was needed urgently to conduct the sale caused him to panic. Less than two hours? He couldn’t get home in time, he was too far away and he knew that he wasn’t able to drive well enough to even try. He opened his diary and tried everyone who might be willing to help but no one was available at such short notice. In desperation he telephoned the office of Evans and Calloway. It was Meriel who answered and without much hope he asked if she would take over the auction on behalf of his father. ‘Of course. And I’m sure he’ll remember if we should ever be in the same situation,’ she said. She quickly took down the details and, taking Lucy with her, she drove to the farmhouse where the goods were on display, the lot numbers all marked and listed. With only a short time to go she and Lucy introduced themselves and hurriedly inspected the items for sale. The house and outbuildings went quickly and they reached a higher price than George Dexter had estimated, to two brothers who intended to farm there. Then they went outside. People huddled around in groups, their catalogues marked with the pieces they hoped to buy, and slowly they worked their way through the lots. They were cold and very tired by the time they had finished but pleased with their achievements. Apart from a few unwanted items, mostly damaged and practically valueless, everything was gone, carried with difficulty by the purchasers, or taken away in cars, vans, trucks and horses and cans.
A man called to them as they stood clearing the final items. It was the mysterious man who had called, taken them out and purported to want a shop premises for a friend. This time he introduced himself.
‘Hello again. I thought you two managed the auction very well. Almost as good as a man would have done,’ he teased.
In her ‘silly’ voice, Lucy replied, ‘Thank you kindly, sir.’
‘My name is Harry Power and I work for Mr Lewin of Bracken Court. He is preparing for a very important sale and wondered whether to put it in your hands instead of his usual auctioneer.’
Meriel and Lucy didn’t try to hide their delight and after details had been exchanged, Harry Power invited them out to tea and promised to contact them again soon.
They declined the invitation to tea. ‘This isn’t our auction, we’re doing it to help out someone who has had an accident,’ Meriel explained. ‘We need to get home and do the accounts and deliver them to the person concerned.’
Lucy smiled as she noticed Meriel had avoided mentioning George Dexter and the Ace Estate Agency.
The money was put into the bank ready for George the following day, their fee written alongside the final amount. Meriel also put a note through George’s door telling him exactly what had been sold and for how much. She had never worked on behalf of another auctioneer before and didn’t want there to be any conflict.
The following day Lucy told her mother she was leaving home. It didn’t take her long to move. They expressed regret at her leaving but Lucy didn’t think they’d have any sleepless nights. She kissed Dawn, Diana and Deborah and promised to keep in touch and almost ran to the car where Meriel had been waiting. The move into her new life was complete.
‘D’you think you’ll see Gerald, now you’ve met up again?’ Meriel asked her later.
Lucy shook her head. ‘Unlikely and if I’m honest I’m a little disappointed that he went off without even promising to keep in touch. It probably shows a side of me that isn’t very nice, but I hoped he’d ask, so I’d have the pleasure of turning him away, and be able to show off a bit more and remind him of what he missed when he left me. Isn’t that terrible.’
‘Sounds normal to me!’ Meriel said, with a laugh.
As they sat beside the fire and discussed the progress of the estate agency, George came round, bandaged and supported by a silver-topped cane, banging on their door and demanding to know by what right had they stolen his client.