The Diary Of Pamela D. Page 11

  ‘Who is this?’

  ‘That,’ said Mrs. Dewhurst, ‘is your future husband, when he was nineteen.’

  Pamela gaped in disbelief at the portrait of a man who appeared to be at least twenty-eight. He had long dishevelled hair, a thick moustache and sideburns, was wearing leathers, as was the insolent and slatternly-looking blonde who clung possessively to his arm, mugging for the camera. In the background was a gang of similarly dressed bikers with their sinister-looking machines arrayed behind them. She could tell without being told that Theo was the leader.

  There was the man she truly feared, the man behind the cold eyes, at least when they infrequently were kindled to life. He was an imposing, uncompromising, rock-hard figure, about whom there was an unmistakable licence of casual violence.

  ‘I don’t get it . . . what could possibly have happened to change him so much?’

  ‘You have to understand,’ his mother said, taking the picture and replacing it, ‘that he became that way because of his relationship with his father.’ She handed Pamela another portrait, that of a good-looking middle-aged man who looked every bit as robust and daunting as Theo. No . . . Pamela took a closer look . . . there was something different about his father . . . something refined . . . and those eyes! They appeared at once unfeeling, cold, dangerous.

  ‘Henry Dewhurst was not a good father,’ Mrs. Dewhurst admitted, looking at once tired and obviously feeling something akin to remorse. ‘In the end he wasn’t a good husband, either, though he tried very hard in the beginning.

  ‘When Theo was a little boy, he was in every way my son, due to the fact that Henry spent so much time away from home, on business. Unlike me, however, Theo could never seem to learn the right way to circumvent his father’s will where Henry’s emotions were concerned. To get his father’s attention Theo would . . . and this is just between you and me . . . he would get into trouble, and he tried his level best to become everything his father hated, out of a misguided notion that any attention was good attention. Oh, it’s an old story, and a mistake that is repeated ad nauseam by children vying for the attention of parents who either withhold their affection, don’t have it, or can’t show it if they do.’

  ‘His eyes look very cold,’ Pamela said, staring at the portrait.

  ‘To you, perhaps,’ Mrs. Dewhurst said with a small smile touching her lips, taking the portrait from her. ‘But I know better. Henry was a deep-feeling man, and very demonstrative when Theo was small, both to the boy and to myself.’ She sighed. ‘But he lacked a certain . . . maturity when it came to dealing with his adolescent son. Instead of ignoring Theo’s raging hormones and awkward attempts to grow into an independent adult, he bought into the boy’s feelings instead, and began competing with him on the same level. If Theo threw a tantrum, which Henry should have wisely ignored, Henry got angry. If Theo wanted independence, Henry grounded him. If Theo got into trouble, his father, rather than take responsibility and talk to the boy himself, would call the police and have him arrested.

  ‘But you have to remember that things were very different when Henry and I were young. There was no such thing as a teenager, really. You were either a child or an adult in those days. I can’t tell you how many times Henry would yell at the boy, saying, “You’re either a kiddie living at home or an adult living on your own.” But the world changed, and for some ungodly reason Henry either couldn’t or wouldn’t.

  ‘In the old days, you see, children were very much the property of their parents, and were very much controlled and moulded by their parents when Henry was growing up. A father ruled the roost in those days and didn’t suffer contradiction gladly. I should add that Henry was fourteen years older than myself, to give you a better idea of which generation I’m referring to.

  ‘Anyway, the worst fault of men of Henry’s generation was that they almost never listened to anyone but themselves. It was a man’s world, and being a man of his time, he had very narrow beliefs and lived in a totally egocentric world. But there came a day, of course, when men like Henry no longer had everything their own way. They were forced to acknowledge that other members of their household besides themselves were people too, with feelings and needs and minds. That was very possibly the worst of it . . . that men of his generation, in the face of all reason and common sense, denied that anyone in the family besides themselves could have minds.’

  ‘How did he die?’ Pamela asked without thinking, but feeling now that she had the right to ask.

  ‘It certainly wasn’t shortness of breath!’ Mrs. Dewhurst said disparagingly. ‘Sorry, I’m being flippant. No, he took his own life, if you must know. Oh, don’t look so stricken! To tell the truth, when it happened I almost expected it. And,’ she said meaningly, ‘if you haven’t guessed as much already, Theo blamed himself. He changed almost overnight, from that,’ she indicated the old picture, ‘to the man you now know as your fiancé.’ Closing up the bookcase once more and locking it, she added, ‘There’s just one thing I want you to remember, however. Despite appearances, a man of such extremes is also a man of extreme passions. In Theo’s case, somewhere beneath that veneer of control is a man who very much loves and cares about you. Don’t doubt it for a minute. It’s getting him to show his true feelings, without provoking him to anger or driving him away, that’s going to be your great challenge in life; a challenge, I might add, that is well worth any heartache you might have to endure. Believe me, I know, for Henry was such a man, and despite appearances, and for all his faults, the twenty-four years we had together were the best years of my life. I could have remarried several times over the years, but when you’ve had the best, everything else is doomed to be second-rate.’

  ‘But why did he kill himself?’ Pamela asked, concerned because if Theo now walked in his father’s footsteps . . .

  Perhaps sensing the cause of the girl’s apprehensive concern, Mrs. Dewhurst said, ‘You needn’t worry. Theo is a stronger man than his father ever was where his own self-image is concerned. What killed Henry Dewhurst was a changing world that had become intolerant of the sort of mind-set he was comfortable with. He felt like an outsider in his own country: where once he was very much in control, the government stepped in and made him relinquish that control. He was rather a taskmaster where his employees were concerned, and as long as he was able to terrorize them, things ran smoothly.

  ‘But labour standards put a stop to that, which all but crippled his businesses. In the end, ironically no one was better off. Employees got lazy and took full advantage, forcing costs to go up, which in turn caused prices to go up, which in turn caused the employees to grumble bitterly about the cost of everything, though the cycle was partly their own fault . . . ’

  Only half-listening to Mrs. Dewhurst’s theoretical assertions, Pamela was still left feeling as though she were foundering where her relationship with Theo was concerned. Mind-painting fell far short of the actual experience of the man, and when in his presence there was the overriding instinct to rely solely upon the immediate impression he made, regardless what she had been told. He was and remained closed to her. She wondered, too, which Theo would surface should his attention and focus be rekindled. Would it be the dangerous young rebel or a mature and caring man who would be all but a complete stranger to her? Once more she felt as though her life was on hold. And once more she found that she was prepared to wait.

  That evening, when the two were spending their quiet-time together in the upstairs sitting room, Theo broke his silence for the first time.

  ‘As I said earlier, we shouldn’t be sleeping together at all, but as we’ll soon be married, and as I foresee no difficulty in maintaining our respective restraint, I’m not going to discourage it.

  ‘That said, as of tomorrow, you are no longer a maid-’

  ‘But I like being a maid! I want to continue earning my keep,’ Pamela protested. In truth, she was still concerned about how this would affect her relationships with the household staff. Would they still treat her the same way
, or would this create an unbroachable gulf between them?

  ‘As my wife,’ he said in an unreadable tone, ‘and helpmate, you would be far more valuable an asset to this household and to myself if you were to learn something of the family businesses. Your secretarial and organizational skills have not only cut my workload in half but have left me with more free time than I could have imagined possible. I am going to hire a young girl for you to train as your secretary, as well, so that you can turn your attention to actually doing business. Oh, and by the way, I already have a girl in mind. One whom I think you might be acquainted with.’

  He paused to let her consider his words.

  Pamela frowned in concentration. Who could it be? Someone from church? The daughter of one of Theo’s business associates?

  ‘I was sure you’d know right off without any help from me,’ he said, causing her to raise her head and stare up at him. His expression, though deadpan, couldn’t conceal the smile in his eyes.

  Finally, she said, ‘You must be mistaken. I can’t think of anyone.’

  ‘No?’ he said, watching her reaction carefully. ‘Not even Tessa?’

  Pamela’s reaction was immediate and overjoyed. Like an excited child she blurted, ‘What? Tessa? Tessa’s coming here? For how long? What about Albert Askrigg? You said I couldn’t go visit her because of him-’

  ‘This place is literally crawling with CID,’ he assured her. ‘She’ll be safe; I’ll make sure of that. Besides, you will want her here for our wedding, won’t you?’

  Pamela could only nod, feeling elated.

  ‘As to the reason she’s coming here,’ Theo continued, ‘Ellie let me know that Tessa was looking for just such a job. There were other . . . considerations,’ he added thoughtfully, but didn’t elaborate. ‘The long and short of it is, she’s coming here to live with us.’

  Later that evening, as she lay with the man who would soon be her husband, she found herself thinking, ‘How like him. I can’t think of a kinder thing that he could possibly have done, yet without any mention being made of friendship or making up for not allowing me to go to Hornsea, or doing something to make me happy. It’s as though he thinks of both Tessa and me as assets, and nothing more.’

  She fell asleep unable to believe what her own thoughts were still telling her, yet not yet daring to believe that she had seen past his exterior.

  Pamela’s choice of “new” car, an ancient Austin that was in surprisingly good condition, had caught Theo entirely off-guard. In fact it was the only car on the lot that wasn’t brand-new, its presence the result of a trade-in. Both Theo and the salesman tried talking her out of it, the salesman because Theo could obviously afford a brand-new and infinitely more expensive car and obviously wanted to spend the money, some of which would end up in the salesman’s own pocket, and Theo because he thought Pamela wanted the car because it was only a few hundred pounds. But Pamela had fallen in love with the car on first sight, having spotted it when the two men were talking and looking over what the dealer had to offer. She had wandered off, and as though guided by fate or instinct, discovered the car where it lay deliberately concealed behind a dustbin.

  Theo carefully checked the car over himself, taking the salesman’s advice that the car was on its last legs with a grain of salt. ‘Compression’s good as new . . . engine runs like a top . . . someone obviously kept this car in perfect running order! What on earth did they trade it against?’

  ‘It were a young fellow,’ the salesman said. ‘Car belonged to his old dad who just snuffed it. Lad brought it in and traded it against one of them new Japanese sports cars.’ He barked a short laugh and shook his head. ‘Banged it up same day. Can’t thole them young buggers, them as never had to work a day in their lives! If you ask me, it served him right, spending his dad’s hard-earned cash that way. The lad done nowt to earn it-’

  He stopped when he noticed that Theo had turned very pale.

  ‘Sorry, didn’t mean owt by it.’ Watching Pamela who was looking over the old car, oblivious to the two men, he said contritely, ‘Look, tell you what- I’ll sell you that car for exactly what I paid for it- fifty quid. Any road, it were just a token sum. I hadn’t planned to do owt with it but sell it to the scrap merchant, which was a pity ‘cos I knew the old man as owned it. He used to look at that car with the same expression as yon lass.’

  Learning to drive was a dream come true for Pamela. She had never dared hope that she would ever sit behind the wheel of a car, or that she would ever have one of her very own. But from the outset Theo laid down the condition that as long as Albert Askrigg was at large she wasn’t to go anywhere without Fred or Theo himself accompanying her.

  ‘Turn right, here,’ Theo told her as she drove in the heart of downtown Bradford. ‘There it is, behind that brick building. Turn right, there . . . see where it says “Staff Parking?” Pull into that stall on the far left- the one that says “Dewhurst.”’

  They got out and walked into the back entrance of The Crown Tavern, a rustic-looking pub that claimed to have been established in the year 1818. Pamela could tell at once that business was not good. The place was all but empty, except for a few old regulars who sat on barstools, talking with the barkeep. She found the place dim, depressing and stuffy. It had potential, though. The place was constructed of oak beams and stone, its tables and chairs likewise solid-looking and heavy. There was a huge fireplace, but its functionality had obviously been long ago supplanted by central-heating. The walls were strewn with old relics, most of which meant little or nothing to her.

  ‘Well? What do you think?’

  She ventured a timid look at him. ‘You want my honest opinion?’

  Frowning, he said, ‘Of course.’

  Swallowing, mustering her courage, she said, ‘It looks more like a museum than a pub. It’s far too cluttered. Everything’s badly in need of cleaning but everything in here, including the building, isn’t made of the sort of thing that shows dirt. I mean, can’t you smell it? And those windows over there, the ones that have been bricked in? They need to be opened up again to let some light in here. And there should be some sort of counter running along the entire wall, so people can see in and out-’

  ‘Those windows were bricked in because to do so was far cheaper than making the needed structural repairs to that wall.’

  Surprised at her own audacity, she said, ‘Did business drop off when you did that?’

  Giving her a gauging look, he said, ‘As a matter of fact it did. Ever since then I’ve been trying to find ways to turn things around.’

  Speaking with certainty, while wondering where that certainty was coming from, she said, ‘Then you should get the work done, otherwise you’re just going to keep losing money.’

  Theo glanced past her shoulder, causing her to notice that the barkeep and patrons were listening very closely to every word, their expressions somehow . . . hopeful?

  He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. ‘All right. You may begin by getting estimates for all the work you want done and all the changes you’d like to make. When you’re ready I’ll take a look at what you’ve done and we’ll take it from there.’

  She felt panic set in as he spoke. ‘But . . . but Theo, I don’t know the first thing about . . . any of that stuff!’

  ‘For some reason,’ he said, leading her back to the car, ‘I think that you will have the hang of it in fairly short order.’

  She was so nervous when she started the old Austin that she kept clashing gears until she managed to force herself to calm down. What did she, Pamela, know about running a business, or for that matter turning one around that was failing? Why was Theo giving her responsibility for something that she could easily wreak disaster upon? She didn’t want that sort of responsibility! It simply wasn’t in her nature to blithely meet the world on its own terms with the necessary confidence that went along with it. She would much rather he let her stay a maid. As a maid she was happy in her work; happy and safely inconspicuous. All she had
to do was work hard and trust that the world would keep at a safe distance, that her comfortable routine would go on forever.

  As she gripped the steering wheel, she became conscious of her engagement ring which suddenly felt strange and awkward on her finger, as though it were a large and cumbersome thing that shackled her to commitments and pressures she wasn’t up to dealing with. The thought of adding a second and more binding band made her feel increasingly claustrophobic.

  And what if Theo soon wanted children? she thought to herself, feeling an ugly thrill of panic in the pit of her belly-

  ‘Careful! Mind your driving; you’re wandering too near the shoulder.’

  Theo’s voice brought her back into the moment, which was the last place she wanted to be, for there lay her fears, her anxieties.

  ‘Here, pull over onto the layby,’ he said gently. ‘I’d better drive for a while.’

  Once again feeling as though she had let him down, as though she were a failure who deserved to fail, she did as he told her, and spent the remainder of the trip staring out the window, wishing she could please him, and that for once in her life she could do something right.

  -8-

  Tessa’s train was late by almost an hour, which caused Pamela some considerable anxiety. Ellie seemed unperturbed, however, so she tried to take her cue from Ellie’s calm patience. Fred Pascoe had left them for the time being but sat nearby on a bench within easy watching distance.

  At last the train arrived, and there was Tessa, struggling with her carry-on luggage. The moment the two girls spotted one another, they ran to each other’s arms and embraced.

  ‘Is this all the luggage you’ve brought?’

  ‘Yes, for now. Not to worry, I’ve got pretty much everything I need.’

  ‘Then let’s get going,’ Pam said smugly. ‘I’ve got something to show you.’