by Paul Markham
James was more than a little frustrated at his inability to locate the item he was seeking amongst the boxes and dust-sheets high in the roof of Penbury Manor, and there was many an unparliamentary expression that only the strictest self-discipline prevented from echoing round the semi-ordered loft space filled with the bric-a-brac accumulated by several generations of the Penbury family.
He was distracted momentarily by an enormous box, and yielded, without too great a struggle, to the temptation to slip briefly back to an earlier era when the sound of superbly crafted Basset-Lowke model locomotives had echoed around his playroom, hauling chocolate and cream coaches, or collections of goods wagons that have long since disappeared from the modern railway, through the O-gauge scale model of Great Kingsford station and the surrounding area.
Like James himself, the appealing straightforwardness of the external appearance had belied the complexity of the hidden workings of this layout. That, however, had gone the way of the loose-coupled trains that had once held James in total fascination at the goods yard, where he had been allowed to watch the manoeuvrings of busy tank engines as they rearranged the daily pick-up goods train. All that remained now were the locomotives, wagons and coaches, each wrapped with meticulous care in several sheets of tissue paper.
Great Kingsford had also become almost unidentifiable with the bustling little station it had once been, playing host now to sleek local trains that hummed, rather than puffed, and to fast-moving Inter City expresses that were gone almost before you knew they were there. Where once James had stood, talking to the kind signalman who was nearing the end of a long working life on the railway, and listening to the metallic protests of point levers and rodding and the almost whistling sound of signal wires, there was now a small, readily-identifiable late 20th century trading estate, separated from the new housing estate by two very artificial-looking rows of trees and an access road.
James' mind returned to the loft space and, at last, his gaze fell upon a dust sheet that created a profile of just the right size and shape. Carefully, he made his way across to it, lifted the cover and shuddered slightly as he recalled the hinged trestle with the velvet-lined padded cross piece at the top. He looked down at the two handles on one of the frames and felt his mind being drawn back, once again.
James had not escaped correction entirely during his school career and had, on one occasion, joined four other boys with whom he had been caught in flagrante delicto with an illegal packet of cigarettes, in what had mistakenly been assumed to be an area of the school grounds that escaped supervision by those in authority there.
These five boys had stood nervously in the dark oak-panelled corridor that led to the headmaster's study, to which access was via a heavy-looking door with quite a large pane of heavily-frosted glass in the centre of the upper half. By the time his instruction to enter the study had been barked by Mr Smythe, he had heard the dreaded cane fall eighteen times, with an unforgettable crack, across the hind quarters of three of his friends, each of whom had emerged fighting back the tears and rubbing furiously from their confrontation with school discipline.
James winced again as he recalled how he had just managed to hold back his own tears as the six strokes had landed sharply across the seat of his trousers and how, eventually, all five boys had made their way, putting a smilingly brave face on their experience, to the showers, where the music sheets of their posteriors had been compared. James smiled to himself as he remembered the time when he had entered a beautiful country hotel to attend a conference, and had followed the porter from the reception desk along a dark, oak-panelled corridor to his room. Oak obviously responded well to a certain brand of wood polish with a very distinctive fragrance, that would always trigger the most vivid of responses in his mind!
Apart from one or two reminders from Matron's slipper at Preparatory School of the need for unquestioning obedience at all times, James had only fallen foul of the disciplinary system on that one occasion. His father, who had been brought up very strictly, showed no sympathy whatsoever, and told James that he was lucky that Mr Smythe had caned him, since he would not have been so lenient.
He had then taken James to the loft and had shown him the folding trestle which James now held in his hand, and had described how the four children of the previous generation - two girls and two boys - had all experienced the visitation of a memorable teacher to their unprotected behinds as they bent over this unusual piece of furniture, gripping the two handles with very white knuckles. He had told James of the one foolish time in his life when he had been caught trying to deceive his father, and how he had earned an unforgettable correction from the tawse that was kept permanently hanging from the wall in the Study, where now there hung a pair of mahogany-framed line drawings of game birds.
Carefully, James folded the dust sheet and placed it on top of the box containing his beloved train set. He then took the trestle carefully across the loft, walked out to the narrow back staircase, locked the door and made his way back down, through the skilfully-crafted concealed doorway on the main staircase and onto the half-landing, then down the elegant staircase to the hallway and across to the study.
James crossed the room and placed the trestle just beyond his desk, in a sizeable clear area. He then went back out to the hall and across to the Utility room, where he found a clean cloth. This he then moistened and took back to the Study, where he worked carefully to leave the trestle spick and span.
He stood and admired the simple frame, shuddered slightly as his father's recollections ran for a second time that day through his mind, then returned the cloth to the utility room. He went out and looked at the grandfather clock in the hallway and worked out that Eleanor would be home within the hour. Briefly, his mind wandered further afield, to Sophia Louise, who was, even at that moment, out with her friends Polly and Elizabeth, getting to grips with the adventures of their Venture Scout group.
By the time Eleanor returned with Michelle and Annette, she had resolved to adopt the same approach as she had on that first occasion when there had been matters of great importance that needed to be resolved in a particularly unusual manner, when she had first encountered James' cane.
She did not feel the same sense of uncertainty, yet there was an unmistakable cocktail swirling around in her mind, made up of feelings of fear, apprehension and that indefinable sensation that had always mystified her. The outworkings, however, were only too obvious to her, yet, with her customary skill, she managed to subdue them and maintained an outward appearance that would have misled anyone apart from James or her Father.
As she closed the door behind her and hung her coat on the stand, she ran the recent events through her mind again and asked herself, with a fury directed entirely at her own impetuousness, how she had managed to end up in this situation.
Michelle had worked extremely hard to develop her business, and had made what she thought was quite a success of it, with the hard-working support of Annette, the 23-year old daughter of a local beef farmer, who exhibited quite a flair for fashion and business. In fact, they had done so well that Michelle had needed to take on two part-time staff to cope with demand, but she had not really had time to take a close look at her trading figures, being aware only that there were no immediate reasons for concern.
It had, therefore, come as a great surprise when her accountant had informed her just how successful the business had been, and this had been compounded even further when she had learned that the Chamber of Commerce had awarded her its Businesswoman of the Year Award.
Eleanor had received this news with absolute delight, mainly on account of her great affection for Michelle, but also in recognition of what her friend had accomplished in the face of all the dour-faced pessimists who had told her that she was wasting her time turning the Old Forge into a fashion outlet. It could fairly have been said that Eleanor had a vested interest, for she had certainly invested with great interest in the success of the Primrose boutique, both with her own money and by making several purchases there.
The gloss on this heartening picture was badly tarnished by news that Annette's Father had decided that there was no future for him in beef farming, and that he was going to up sticks and move to the southern hemisphere, to be close to his brothers, who had established very successful farms in New Zealand. It had been a very difficult time for Annette in particular, since the prospect of a full partnership in the boutique had been an active proposition.
She had, however, decided that she did not want to part company with her family and had made up her mind, reluctantly, to move with them. Michelle had, obviously, been extremely disappointed, even disheartened, to hear this news, but she fully understood how difficult it was for Annette, and so, as a form of celebration and valedictory party, arrangements had been made for Michelle, Annette and Eleanor to dine at the Ensign Inn on the Thursday evening of Annette's last week in the boutique.
Unfortunately, there was a slight complication. James had taken the early train from Great Kingsford to Paddington, and, later in the morning, Eleanor had taken the Range Rover in to the garage for what ought to have been a routine service. However, close examination had revealed that there was an unexpected problem that needed urgent attention, and a certain part that the dealer did not have in stock, and that he could not obtain until the following day.
Unfortunately, all the courtesy cars were in use, although Eleanor was offered a hire car. She, however, had felt that it was unnecessary, and had rung James to ask if he could collect her from the boutique later that evening, on his way back from the station. He had agreed readily, since he was planning to leave London on the last train, which was due to arrive at 11.18 pm.
With a sense of relief that everything had fallen into place so smoothly, Eleanor had decided to spend the day with Michelle and Annette. Late in the afternoon, Michelle had driven her back to Penbury Manor to change, and the two young women had then returned to Little Kingsford so that Michelle could change before they set off for the Ensign Inn. They had debated the idea of taking a taxi, but Michelle insisted that she would only drink a couple of glasses of wine with dinner, and that they would then celebrate with a bottle of champagne back at the boutique, later in the evening.
Annette arrived at the Inn just a matter of minutes after Eleanor and Michelle, and it did not take long for the three of them, armed with a lightly chilled amontillado, to get into deep conversation, interspersed with peals of laughter as they recalled the humorous side of retailing to an unpredictable public, but also with more reflective moments, as they contemplated Annette's imminent departure and the future of the business.
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