And yet she was so lucky in her life. She had her devoted brothers Winston and Frank, and her beloved friend, Blackie O’Neill. And her children and grandchildren…even another grandchild now, her darling Paula. Named for Paul McGill, she was his granddaughter, and so like him in looks: dark, exotic, with those wonderful blue-violet eyes.
Emma’s mind suddenly went to her son Robin, and she felt a little flash of dismay when she considered his old romance with Glynnis. She must be very careful not to let him know Glynnis was in London. He might want to see her.
But then there was no problem, Emma reassured herself; Glynnis had told her long ago that she never wanted to see Robin Ainsley again. He had treated her so badly, and had broken her heart. Well, broken hearts did mend, in her opinion; but Glynnis obviously had no interest in Robin. She had married her GI–Richard Hughes–and he was bringing up Robin’s child as his own, and what more could a woman want than a good man, a loving husband who accepted her as she was, and adored her in the process. Glynnis was lucky, too.
‘You’ve never looked better, Blackie,’ Emma said, staring him fully in the face. ‘You’re quite…splendid. Yes, that’s exactly the right word to describe you. Or perhaps magnificent. That’s a beautiful suit you’re wearing.’
He threw back his head and laughed. After he recovered from his mirth, he peered at her and said, ‘Flattery will get you everywhere, mavourneen, and if I didn’t know you better, after all these long years, I’d be saying you were after something.’
‘Don’t be silly, of course I’m not.’
‘That’s what I just said, Emma, my sweet. But just so you know, you can have anything of mine that I have. Anything at all. You know how much I love you, Emm.’
‘And I love you, too, Blackie. Goodness, all these years we’ve been friends. All of my life, actually.’
‘Aye, and what a funny little snippet of a lass you were, all skin and bone, but so beautiful, even then, me darlin’. Like a precious flower growing among the weeds of Fairley Hall.’ He let out a sigh. ‘Aye, that was long ago now, almost fifty years.’ He eyed her carefully. ‘And I might say you’re looking pretty nifty yourself, Emma Harte. All dolled up for a party, eh?’
She smiled at him indulgently. ‘No, not a party. However, when you said you wanted to come early, I thought I’d better be dressed and ready for the rest of the day.’
‘You look as elegant as you always do, Emma. Now, I understand from Winston that congratulations are in order.’
She stared at him blandly, and her green eyes narrowed.
‘I was told by your brother that the Yorkshire Consolidated Newspaper Company has taken control of the Yorkshire Morning Gazette. It’s yours now, Emma. You’ve finally bested Edwin Fairley. You’ve won, me darlin’.’
‘You always knew I would, didn’t you, Blackie O’Neill?’ she answered, sounding challenging, and there was an undercurrent of defiance in her tone. She sat up straighter in the chair.
‘I did. It seems to me you had set your mind to getting that paper, come hell or high water. So tell me…’
‘I’ve been very patient, and I had a weak adversary. My newspapers are the most successful in the north, and they’ve eaten up a lot of the Gazette’s circulation, as well as the circulation of a few other newspapers. To be honest, Blackie, the Gazette’s been losing money since the end of the war, and anyway, I ran the Gazette into the ground.’
‘Deliberately?’ Blackie took a puff on his cigar, sat studying her thoughtfully.
‘But of course. And without compunction. Edwin Fairley’s never been a good businessman. He’s a much better lawyer. He should have stuck to the law, in my considered opinion.’
‘Winston told me Edwin sold off a lot of his shares. That was obviously a foolish move. He weakened his position, didn’t he?’
Emma nodded. ‘He’s not been dealing from strength for a long time. But he stayed on as chairman, and that was really a mistake.’
‘Why?’
‘Because his situation was very tenuous, and the other shareholders were upset with him, but he paid no mind to them. He thought he was in the right. He didn’t understand and they weren’t loyal to him, only to their own bank balances. I made them a huge offer, volunteered to put new management in, but it was the money that did it. Naturally. Money talks, Blackie. You taught me that when I was still a bairn.’
He smiled at her, rose and walked over to the balustrade of the terrace, looking down the long stretch of lawn, his eyes reflective. Suddenly he turned and nodded, saying swiftly, ‘Winston said Edwin finally sold his shares to Harte Enterprises.’
‘He did. He had no alternative.’
‘Winston calls it a coup for you, and I agree with him. But I’m surprised you didn’t go to that board meeting.’
‘Why would I go? Winston was representing me.’
‘To witness Edwin’s defeat, Emm.’
Those beautiful green eyes turned flinty and cold, and there was a sudden iciness about Emma. She drew herself up in the chair, her head held proudly, and said in a voice that was glacial, ‘Forty-five years ago I told Edwin Fairley I never wanted to see him again as long as I lived, and I haven’t. You surely can’t think that I want to set eyes on him now, do you? Not you, Blackie? My one true friend.’
‘I don’t suppose you would,’ he murmured in a quiet tone, memories rushing at him. Once he’d been ready to horsewhip Edwin Fairley, because of his treatment of Emma. And for a long time, many years in fact, he had regretted that he hadn’t done so. Edwin had deserved it.
Emma said, ‘But all that’s water under the bridge. However, Winston told me something odd, that he thought Edwin looked gratified at the meeting. I thought that was a strange thing to say, and I told him that more than likely it was relief he saw on Edwin’s face.’
‘I can’t imagine he’d be gratified, Emma. The Gazette’s been in the Fairley family for three generations. Now he’s lost it to you.’
She began to laugh. ‘Relief, Blackie, I’ve lifted a burden from Edwin’s shoulders. For a second time.’
‘True, mavourneen,’ Blackie replied softly, his face bland. And then he thought that perhaps Edwin had indeed been relieved, but not for any reason Emma could conjure up.
‘Grandy, Grandy, Grandy! Here I am!’ Paula cried, the five-year-old child running along the terrace on her fat little legs, her summer frock billowing around her, her face full of smiles.
Emma jumped up, rushed forward to meet her granddaughter, exclaiming, ‘Not so fast, darling, I don’t want you to fall!’
Bending down, Emma caught hold of Paula, and hugged her to her. ‘You mustn’t run so fast, lovey.’
The child looked at her solemnly, and then she struggled free and ran to Blackie at the end of the terrace. ‘Uncle Blackie, hello, hello!’
Smiling in delight, Blackie bent over her, smoothing her dark curls gently with the palm of his hand. ‘And aren’t you just the most beautiful girl, mavourneen,’ he said softly, his black eyes full of love for this child.
‘Shane, I want Shane, Uncle Blackie. Where’s Shane?’ she demanded.
‘He’s at school, me darlin’.’
‘Can he come and play tomorrow?’
‘I’m sure he can, Paula.’
She clapped her hands. ‘Oh good.’
As Emma came towards them, Blackie looked up and his breath caught in his throat. From even this short distance she looked for a moment as she had when she was a girl…her red-gold hair shimmering in the sunlight. She was as beautiful to him now as she had been then…so many years ago when he had met his little starveling girl on those mist-filled moors, and followed her to that wretched house, Fairley Hall. An involuntary shiver ran through him as he thought of that time.
When Emma came to a stop she looked up into his face and said, with a frown, ‘You look so sorrowful, Blackie. Is something wrong?’
‘No, not anymore, mavourneen. Not anymore.’ He gave her a bright smile, leaned over the child and
kissed Emma’s cheek. ‘But I just want you to know you’re still my young colleen of the moors. And you always will be ’til the day I die.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
The moment Glynnis walked into the office Emma felt as though she had never left. In an instant, a decade fell away, and for a moment Emma was back in the past, in the war years. Memories came at her in full flood, bringing a lump to her throat.
Rising, she hurried across the floor of her office, and the two women embraced affectionately. Standing away from her former secretary, Emma looked into her face, and smiled. ‘Glynnis, you’ve hardly changed!’ she exclaimed. ‘You look just the same, perhaps a tiny bit thinner, but as lovely as you always were.’
‘I’m a few years older now, Mrs Harte, but thank you. And you never get a day older, I must say.’
Emma chuckled as the two of them walked over to the seating arrangement at one end of her office in the London store. ‘I’ll let you into a secret,’ Emma confided as they sat down opposite each other. ‘I was sixty this past April, not that I feel it, mind you. Actually, I still feel like a young woman inside.’
‘And that’s how you look,’ Glynnis answered, meaning it.
‘I did want to take you to lunch, Glynnis dear, but you said you preferred to have tea, and you mentioned a problem when we spoke on the phone. Is there something the matter?’
‘Oh no, Mrs Harte. It’s just that…well, you see, I brought Owen with me to England. My parents haven’t seen him since he was a baby, and he’s with me now, in London. He does like his lunch, it’s his favourite meal. That’s the only reason I suggested tea.’
Emma shook her head, suddenly laughing. ‘He could have come to lunch with us, you know. And let’s not forget, he’s my grandson, too. I’m so glad he’s here, I haven’t seen him since he was a toddler.’
‘He’s a nice boy, I’m proud of him.’ Glynnis hesitated, then went on in a lowered voice, ‘He looks like Robin.’
‘Does he really?’ Emma responded, her vivid green eyes lighting up with interest. Leaning forward, she asked, ‘And where is Owen now?’
‘With my cousin Gwyneth. She’s taken him to the zoo. She’s married now and lives in Hampstead, but it’s only a small flat, so I decided it was better for us to go to a hotel. That’s why we’re at the Hyde Park.’
‘I understand. And she’s well, is she? Your cousin, I mean.’
‘Oh yes. No children yet, but she’s very happily married…’ Glynnis let her sentence trail off.
There was a little silence.
Emma sat back on the sofa, scrutinizing Glynnis Hughes intently, her mind full of questions, some of which she decided not to ask. But she couldn’t help wondering if Glynnis were happy in her marriage to Richard Hughes, if it had worked, still was working. Although Glynnis continued to write to her on a regular basis she never said much about Richard or referred to her domestic life.
Becoming aware of Emma’s fixed gaze, Glynnis cleared her throat. ‘You’re staring at me, Mrs Harte. Now it’s my turn to ask if something’s wrong.’
‘Not at all, Glynnis. I was just wondering if your marriage had worked out all right? You never really reveal anything in your letters. At least about Richard. But I always thought he was such a nice young man.’
‘He is, and it’s fine, I mean everything’s good. The marriage is sound, and he does love Owen so very much. Richard’s treated him like his own child since the day he was born, but then you know that. And he’s never asked me who the father was. He’s a good man, and kind.’
‘Then my judgement of him was correct. I never doubted him, Glynnis, and I’m glad you have him. By the way, why didn’t he come with you?’
‘To tell you the truth he didn’t want to come. You see, in the past year his business has grown in leaps and bounds. He’s doing really well with his antique shop in Manhattan, and he’s even done some interior design for a couple of clients who collect English Georgian furniture. He’s an expert in that field. Anyway, he has a couple of big jobs at the moment and nothing ever interferes with his business.’ A smile suddenly played around Glynnis’s mouth. ‘He’s like you in that way, Mrs Harte. I’m sure that’s why I understand him so well, because I worked for you.’
They both laughed in a conspiratorial way, and then a moment later there was a sudden knock on the door and it opened. Alice, Emma’s secretary, popped her head around it, and asked, ‘Shall I bring the tea in now, Mrs Harte?’
‘Yes, thank you, Alice.’ Looking across at Glynnis, Emma asked, ‘What are your plans for the weekend?’
Glynnis gave a little shrug. ‘I don’t really have any. I thought I’d take Owen to Hampton Court, do a few jaunts like that. I want him to know his other country…my country.’
‘How about showing him Yorkshire?’ Emma suggested, raising an auburn brow. Seeing the surprise crossing Glynnis’s face, she continued, ‘I think you ought to bring Owen to Yorkshire, to stay at Pennistone Royal with me. For the weekend. I’m leaving tonight, and if you travel up tomorrow you can spend Friday night, Saturday and Sunday. I’m sure he’d enjoy it, my dear.’
‘Oh Mrs Harte, that would be lovely, but are you sure?’ Glynnis’s blue eyes sparkled.
‘Absolutely positive, and I would love to get to know Owen. In a way, I feel as if I do already, because your letters are very enlightening, but having the boy around me in the flesh, so to speak, would be…well, it would make me very happy.’
‘There’s just one thing.’ Glynnis paused, her face changing. She gave Emma a worried look. ‘He won’t be around, will he? I wouldn’t want to run into him.’
‘No, no. Robin always calls if he’s going to pop in to see me, but usually he stays in London all the time these days. He’s made a success of being a Member of Parliament, made a success of politics.’
Glynnis merely nodded, not trusting herself to say his name or ask any questions.
Alice came in with the tea tray and put it down on the coffee table between them, then smiling at Emma, she hurried out.
After pouring the tea and passing a cup to Glynnis, Emma said, ‘Tomkins is driving me to Yorkshire later, but I’ll arrange a car and driver for you, Glynnis. For tomorrow morning.’
‘No, no, I don’t want you to do that, Mrs Harte! It’s kind of you, but we can come on the train to Harrogate. Really, that’ll be–’
‘I think you’d better come by car,’ Emma cut in. ‘The trains can be slow, and often late. However, if you prefer to drive yourself, then you can borrow my Riley, that’s no problem at all.’
‘If you’re sure, Mrs Harte,’ Glynnis began, nodding. ‘I think I’d like that, and certainly it’s a chance for Owen to see the English countryside.’
‘So it’s settled then,’ Emma said, beaming at her former secretary. ‘I’m looking forward to our weekend. The three of us will have fun.’
‘We’ve now become the biggest newspaper proprietors in the north,’ Emma said, gazing at her brother Winston across the desk. ‘But I want to expand further, I want to own…a national.’
Winston stared back at her, as usual taking everything in his stride. Long ago he had ceased to be surprised by Emma. She was a wonder to him, a wonder to them all, and she had expanded her business empire enormously since the end of the war. And he knew she had done it all by using a combination of determination, sheer nerve and hard work. She was a genuine tycoon now.
‘You’re not saying anything, Winston.’
‘I was just thinking…thinking that there’re no newspapers for sale at the moment, our Emm, as far as I know, anyway. National dailies I’m talking about.’
‘I know that. And I’ve been thinking too…perhaps we ought to start one of our own. From scratch.’
‘Good God, Emma, that’ll cost a fortune!’
‘And buying one wouldn’t? Come on, you know I’d have to pay through the nose if I attempted to buy an existing newspaper. It might even be cheaper, starting one.’
‘Well, let’s not rush
in. Remember what Henry Rossiter always says. Fools–’
‘Rush in where angels fear to tread,’ Emma interrupted him, ‘but I’ve always done that all my life. So I guess I’m a fool,’ she laughed, her eyes full of spirit.
‘Nobody could call you that. Many other things, but not a fool,’ Winston declared.
‘Let’s at least think about it, Winston,’ she said, her tone a shade lighter. ‘Also, when I saw Blackie last Friday I asked him about the land which we looked at last week, that bombed-out building site. He thinks we should buy it, since it is a commercial property site, and it could become very valuable.’
Winston nodded. ‘To tell you the truth, it is already, Emma. Very valuable, in fact, and I was going to suggest we put in a bid for it on Monday.’
‘Yes, do it, Winston, because Blackie said we can’t go wrong.’
Emma stood up, walked over to the big window in the upstairs parlour, glancing out. The weather was still very sunny and warm, as it had been for the past week. Her gardens were beginning to look truly beautiful, and she made a mental note to tell Mr Ramsbotham, the head gardener, how pleased she was. And she would also give a word of praise to Wiggs, his nephew, who would take over from him one day. They had done a wonderful job with the parterres which looked better than they ever had.
Finally swinging around to face Winston again, she said, ‘You’ll never guess who I had tea with in London yesterday.’
‘I’m sure I won’t, you know so many people. So why don’t you tell me?’
‘Glynnis…the lovely Glynnis Jenkins from Wales.’
‘Good Lord, is she here from New York?’ He grinned. ‘Well, of course she is, that’s a daft question. How long is she staying? I’d like to see her again.’