Hold the Dream

  She stopped after three pages in her small neat script and looked up, thinking about Philip. They had always been close and were good friends, and she missed him. She was aware that Philip missed her too, and their parents and Grandy, and that he was sometimes awfully homesick for England. On the other hand, Dunoon, their sheep station at Coonamble in New South Wales, had fired his imagination since his childhood, and she believed it now held his complete affection. Also, running their vast Australian holdings, which their grandfather, Paul McGill, had left Emma, was a tremendous challenge. She knew Philip more than relished his job. He had settled down at last in this past year, and had started to make a full and complete life for himself out there, and she was glad of that. She finished the letter, addressed and sealed the envelope, then stood up, walked to the far end of the room. She bent down and picked up several blossoms which had dropped off a bright pink azalea, laid them in an ashtray on a ceramic drum table and then glanced around, wondering whether to serve drinks in here or in the drawing room.

  Although Paula thought of this favourite room as her very own private spot in the house, it had fallen into general use lately. She often found Jim reading here, and most of their guests automatically gravitated to it. In actuality the room was a conservatory, typical of those built on to Victorian mansions in the second half of the nineteenth century, after Joseph Paxton had pioneered the use of iron girders as supports for glass houses. Paula considered the large conservatory, like the garden, one of the few real assets at Long Meadow. It was Gothic in design, and she had filled it with tropical green plants, small trees, and exotic orchids, plus a lovely array of small and colourful flowering shrubs. The fir green carpeting, and the green-and-white ivy print she had chosen for the wicker furniture and skirted tables produced a cool restful ambience, and the conservatory appeared to flow out into the grounds beyond the glass walls. Since Paula’s redecoration it provided an extra sitting room as well as a study for her in the refreshing environment of a garden that grew the year round.

  Turning around, her eyes fell on one of her prized hydrangeas and she was concerned to see that it had developed discoloured edges. She continued to examine it thoughtfully until the shrilling telephone forced her to return to her desk. She answered it with a bright ‘Hello?’

  ‘And how’s the little mother?’ Miranda O’Neill asked in her lovely, lilting voice.

  ‘I’m fine, Merry, how’re you, lovey?’

  ‘Exhausted, if you want to know the truth. I’ve had my nose to the grindstone all day, and I was in the office most of yesterday, developing my idea for the Harte boutiques in our hotels. I believe I’ve formulated some really workable plans. I want to show them to my father tomorrow, and then I thought we might get together later in the week, if you have time.’

  ‘Of course I do, and I must say you’ve been awfully fast, and extremely diligent.’

  ‘Thanks. Aunt Emma was most enthusiastic when I spoke to her on Saturday, and I didn’t want to lose any time. As your grandmother always says, time is money. Besides, if we’re going to do it, the areas for the boutiques must be included in the new architectural blueprints, and those will be on the drawing board soon.’

  ‘I realize there’s a time element involved here, because of your building and remodelling programme, Merry. So let’s meet on Wednesday. About two o’clock?’

  ‘That’s perfect for me, and let’s do it in my office.’ Miranda chuckled, said, ‘Isn’t it fabulous news about Aunt Emma going off on a world tour with Grandpops? We’re all thrilled at home.’

  ‘So are we…it’ll do them both good.’

  Merry said: ‘You should have seen him this morning. I couldn’t believe it when he showed up at the office bright and early. There he was behind his desk, where he hadn’t been for months, making phone calls, hustling and bustling, and driving that poor old secretary of his crazy. He kept saying to her, “First Class, First Class, and all the way, Gertie! This has to be a de luxe trip.” Aunt Emma agreeing to go with him has given him a new lease on life, not that he really needed one, actually, since he’s always so up, and bubbly. But do you know, he got quite miffed with me when I mentioned my idea about the boutiques. He actually bellowed at me to keep Emma out of it, said that he didn’t want my piddling bit of business interfering with his plan with a capital P. It took me ages to calm him down.’

  ‘How did you manage to do that?’ Paula asked, laughing under her breath, trying to envisage Blackie in a rage, which was rather difficult to do.

  ‘When I finally got a word in edgeways, I said Aunt Emma wasn’t involved, that you were, and that we could cope very well without either of them. Then he beamed and said I was his clever darling girl, but just to be sure to keep out of his way for the next few days, because he was very preoccupied and extremely busy. Anybody would think they were going off on a honeymoon.’

  ‘Well, he did give her the ring, you know, Merry.’

  ‘Isn’t it sweet. They’re a couple of lovely old dears, aren’t they?’

  Paula burst out laughing. ‘I’d hardly characterize my grandmother and your grandfather as a couple of old dears. Blackie and Emma are more like firecrackers, in my opinion. And weren’t you the one who told me only the other day that they were incorrigible when they got together?’ Paula reminded Miranda.

  Merry had the good grace to laugh with Paula, and she admitted, ‘That’s true, I did, and you’re right. And by the way, talking of Aunt Emma, I don’t know what to buy her for her eightieth birthday. I’ve been racking my brains for days. Any suggestions?’

  ‘You’ve got to be joking! We all have the same problem. Mummy and Daddy were discussing it with me over lunch today. And Emily’s been nagging me to think of something she can get. Frankly, I’m at a loss, like you and everyone else.’

  ‘Well, let’s compare notes again on Wednesday,’ Merry said. ‘I’d better go, Paula. My father’s waiting for me. We have to go over some of my rough drafts for the press release – about the acquisition of the hotel in New York. I hope to God he likes one of the versions, otherwise I’m going to be at my desk until midnight. Not that that would be anything unusual,’ Miranda grumbled. ‘I seem to have become a work horse lately. No wonder I don’t have any private life these days.’

  ‘I just told Emily to take it easy at Genret. And you’d better do the same, Merry,’ Paula cautioned.

  ‘Listen who’s talking!’ Miranda said, and laughed hollowly.

  CHAPTER 17

  Since the conservatory opened directly off the marblefloored entrance hall, Paula heard Jim’s footsteps the moment he entered the house. She was standing near the fading hydrangea plant, holding the discoloured leaf in her hand, and she turned, expectancy and warmth filling her face.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ she said, as he came down the two steps, and moved swiftly towards him, her eagerness to see him most apparent.

  ‘Hello,’ he replied.

  They met in the centre of the room. He gave her a light kiss, then lowered himself into a chair without saying another word.

  Paula stood staring down at him, puzzlement in her eyes. He had sounded so apathetic and the kiss was so perfunctory she knew he was not himself. She said instantly, ‘Is there something the matter, Jim?’

  He shook his head. ‘Just tired,’ he said, smiling that bland, dismissive smile she had come to know so well. ‘There was an accident on the Harrogate road, quite a pile up of cars because of it, and it slowed the traffic. We crawled along for miles. Frustrating…exhausting, actually.’

  ‘How awful. I’m sorry. That’s all you needed. Let me fix you a drink,’ she suggested, not entirely satisfied with this explanation but making up her mind not to press too hard for the moment.

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ he exclaimed in a stronger tone. ‘Thanks, a gin-and-tonic should hit the spot.’

  ‘I’ll just go for some ice,’ she said, and made to leave the conservatory.

  ‘Ring for Meg. She can bring it.’ He frowned. ‘
The bell’s not broken again, is it?’

  ‘No, but it’ll be quicker if I go,’ Paula said, pausing with one foot on the step, glancing over her shoulder.

  ‘I wonder, sometimes, why we have a maid,’ he said with a hint of irritation, looking up, levelling his pale greyish-blue eyes on her.

  She stared back at him, detecting criticism in his tone and manner, but she remarked with evenness, ‘She’s awfully busy right now, and anyway Grandy brought us up not to be overly dependent on servants, as I’ve told you so many times.’ Not waiting for a response she hurried out, but she heard his pained sigh as she went into the hall. Maybe it is only weariness, a hard day at the paper, the difficult drive home, plus the hectic weekend, Paula thought, endeavouring to persuade herself these were the real reasons for his peculiar mood. He wasn’t often moody, at least not exactly like this. As she pushed open the kitchen door she noticed she was still holding the leaf. It was mangled in her hand. Relax, she instructed herself, his moodiness means nothing. He’ll be more like himself after a drink.

  Meg said, ‘Do you think I’ve made enough canapés, Mrs Fairley?’ She indicated the silver tray, pausing in her work.

  ‘Yes, that’s plenty, Meg, and they look delicious. Thank you. Could you fill the ice bucket please?’ Whilst the maid busied herself at the refrigerator Paula threw the leaf in the rubbish bin and washed her hands at the kitchen sink.

  Jim had risen in her absence and he was standing looking out into the garden when Paula went back to the conservatory with the ice. His face was in profile, nonetheless she could not fail to miss the morose curve of his mouth, and when he swung around his eyes were vague.

  Questions flew to her tongue, but she bit them back and hurried to the skirted table which held bottles and a tray of glasses. Pouring his gin-and-tonic, she said without turning around, ‘I thought we’d have drinks in here later, or do you prefer the drawing room?’

  ‘Wherever you wish,’ he replied in an uninterested voice.

  Striving for a normal manner, she continued steadily, ‘Did you book at the Granby after all, Jim?’

  ‘Yes. We have a table reserved for eight-thirty. Anthony called earlier today and said they wouldn’t be able to get here until seven-fifteen. That gives us an hour to relax.’

  ‘Yes.’ Anxiety was rising in her. He was strange, there were no two ways about it, and she wondered if their quarrel of the previous evening still lingered in the back of his mind, rankled perhaps. But why would it? He had won, and anyway he had been chatty and pleasant at breakfast. But she resolved to get to the root of whatever was bothering him. She also decided to have a vodka-and-tonic, even though she hardly ever drank hard liquor.

  Jim seemed to visibly cheer up as he sipped his drink. He lit a cigarette, asked casually, ‘Heard from anybody today?’

  ‘Emily, Merry O’Neill. And Grandy, of course. She rang me just after you left this morning to let me know she was going to London for a few days.’ Paula now looked directly at him, took a deep breath. ‘Why are we making small talk, Jim, when you’re troubled? I know something’s wrong. Please tell me what it is, darling.’

  He was silent.

  She leaned forward intently, her unwavering eyes holding his. ‘Look, I want to know what’s bothering you,’ she insisted.

  Jim sighed heavily. ‘I suppose there’s no point putting it off…I had a bit of a set-to with Winston today, and –’

  Paula laughed with relief. ‘Is that all! Well, you’ve had clashes with him before, and they always blow over. So will this –’

  ‘I’ve resigned,’ Jim announced flatly.

  She looked at him uncomprehendingly, totally at a loss for words. Slowly she put down her drink. Her dark brows drew together in a frown. ‘Resigned?’

  ‘As managing director of the company, that is,’ he added quickly. ‘Effective immediately.’

  Thunderstruck, she continued to gape at him. She found her voice and it rose slightly as she asked, ‘But why? And why didn’t you mention it to me, tell me what was on your mind? I simply don’t understand…’ She did not finish her sentence, sat tensely in the chair.

  ‘There was nothing to discuss. You see, I didn’t know I was going to resign – until I did.’

  ‘Jim, this is perfectly ridiculous,’ she said, attempting a laugh. ‘Just because you had a little row with Winston doesn’t mean you have to do something as drastic as this…after all, Grandy has the final word, you know that. She appointed you, she’ll reinstate you at once. She’ll put Winston straight, deal with him. Look, I’ll speak to her tomorrow, ring her first thing in the morning.’ She gave him an encouraging smile, but it faltered as he held up his hand with an abrupt movement that was uncharacteristic.

  ‘I’m afraid you’re misunderstanding me. Winston didn’t force me to resign, or anything like that, if that’s what you’re thinking. I did so of my own accord. I wanted to, and rather badly, although I must admit, in all truthfulness, that I didn’t realize this until the opportunity presented itself. So I certainly don’t want to be reinstated.’

  ‘But why not, for heaven’s sake?’ she cried, her perplexity and concern mounting, rising to the surface to cloud her face.

  ‘Because I don’t like the job. Never have. When Winston came to see me this morning, he asked me point blank if I wished to continue as managing director, and as he was speaking I knew – really knew, Paula – that I didn’t. I’ve never been particularly good at administrative work, or interested in it, and I told Winston so, and he said he’d sensed this for some time. He pointed out that perhaps it would be better if I stuck to journalism, ran the papers but not the company. I thoroughly agree with him, so I stepped down. That’s all there is to it, actually,’ he shrugged, smiled faintly.

  ‘All there is to it,’ she echoed incredulously. She was aghast at what he had done, and at his attitude. ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing you say these things. You’re acting as if it didn’t matter, as if this wasn’t serious, when it’s terribly serious. And you’re being so cavalier, so dismissive, I’m absolutely staggered.’

  ‘Don’t get so het up. Frankly, I’m filled with relief.’

  ‘Relief should be the last thing on your mind,’ she said in a small dismayed voice. ‘What about duty? Responsibility? Grandy showed a great deal of faith in you, put her trust in you when she appointed you managing director last year. I think you’ve let her down, and rather badly.’

  ‘I’m sorry you feel that way, Paula, because I must disagree with you. I haven’t let Grandy down,’ he protested. ‘I’m still going to be managing editor in charge of two of the most important newspapers in the Consolidated group. I’ll be doing what I do best, being a newspaperman, and a damned good one at that.’ He sat back, crossed his legs, and returned her penetrating stare with an unblinking gaze. His expression was adamant.

  ‘And who’s going to run the company, now that you’ve stepped down?’

  ‘Winston, of course.’

  ‘You know very well he doesn’t want that job.’

  ‘Neither do I.’

  Paula’s lips drew together in aggravation. Another thought struck her and she exclaimed fiercely, ‘I hope this sudden and rather extraordinary decision of yours doesn’t mean that Grandy will have to cancel her trip with Blackie. She really needs that holiday. What did she say? I presume you’ve told her.’

  ‘Naturally I’ve told her. Winston and I walked over to the store at lunch time for a meeting with her. Your grandmother accepted my resignation, Winston’s agreed to take the job, and he didn’t seem very perturbed about the idea either. Grandy isn’t going to cancel her holiday, rest assured of that.’ He leaned forward and clasped her hand in his. ‘Come on, relax. You’re the one who’s more upset than anyone. Grandy and Winston respect my decision. They didn’t quibble. In fact, there was very little discussion…it was rather cut and dried, actually.’

  ‘You’ve simply misunderstood their reactions,’ she murmured filled with misery.


  Jim laughed. ‘Now you’re being ridiculous, Paula. I know them both very well and I can assure you that everything is all right.’

  Paula could think of no easy reply to this statement. She was astonished at his lack of insight, and his assumption that things were on an even keel showed extremely flawed judgement on his part. Jim obviously had no conception of what made her grandmother and Winston tick. She didn’t have to think twice to know that they had accepted the situation because they had had no alternative. They would pull together to keep the company running smoothly. That’s our way she thought. We do our duty, accept responsibility, no matter how difficult that is. Things were far from all right, as he so glibly put it.

  Jim was watching her, trying to ascertain what she was thinking but her violet eyes were veiled, unreadable. He said anxiously, ‘Please try to see my point of view, understand my feelings about the situation. Your grandmother and Winston do. And don’t let’s argue about my resignation. Since it’s a fait accompli this is all rather silly, wouldn’t you say?’

  Paula said nothing. She leaned back in her chair, extracted her hand quietly, and reached for her drink. She took a quick sip. There was a protracted silence before she said, ‘Jim, I do wish you’d reconsider…there are other things involved here. Grandy was going to tell you this herself later in the week, but I know she won’t mind if I tell you now. She’s going to change her will. At the moment her shares in the newspaper company are part of the assets of Harte Enterprises, which as you know my cousins are to inherit. But she’s decided to leave the newspaper shares to the twins – our children – so I know it’s important to her that you’re totally involved with the newspaper company and on every level. I don’t care what she said to you this morning, I’m absolutely convinced she’s terribly disappointed deep down because you’ve chosen to step away from the managerial side –’