Jeffrey Archer - Only Time Will Tell

‘What’s the point of a dance floor if it’s a men-only club?’

‘Another idea I picked up from the States,’ said Eddie. ‘If you want to dance with one of the cocktail waitresses, it’ll cost you.’

‘And what else does that cost include?’

‘That’s up to them,’ said Eddie with a shrug of the shoulders. ‘So long as it doesn’t take place on the premises, nothing to do with me,’ he added, laughing a little too loudly. Maisie didn’t laugh. ‘So what do you think?’ he asked.

‘I think I’d better be getting home,’ said Maisie. ‘I didn’t have time to let Harry know I’d be late.’

‘Whatever you say, honey,’ said Eddie. He draped an arm around her shoulder and led her out of the bar and back up the stairs.

As he drove her to Still House Lane, he told Maisie about his plans for the future. ‘I’ve already got my eye on a second site,’ he said excitedly, ‘so the sky’s the limit.’

‘The sky’s the limit,’ Maisie repeated, as they drew up outside No. 27.

Maisie jumped out of the car and walked quickly to the front door.

‘So will you need a few days to think it over?’ said Eddie, chasing after her.

‘No, thank you, Eddie,’ said Maisie without hesitation. ‘I’ve already made up my mind,’ she added, taking a key out of her handbag.

Eddie grinned and put an arm around her. ‘I didn’t think it would be a difficult decision for you to make.’

Maisie removed the arm, smiled sweetly and said, ‘It’s kind of you to consider me, honey, but I think I’ll stick to serving coffee.’ She opened her front door before adding, ‘But thanks for asking.’

‘Anything you say, doll, but if you change your mind, my door is always open.’

Maisie closed the door behind her.

MAISIE FINALLY SETTLED ON the one person she felt she could seek advice from. She decided to turn up at the docks unannounced and hope he’d be around when she knocked on his door.

She didn’t tell either Stan or Harry who she was visiting. One of them would try to stop her, while the other would feel she’d betrayed a confidence.

Maisie waited until her day off, and once she had dropped Harry at school, she took a tram to the dockyard. She had chosen her time carefully: late morning, when he was still likely to be in his office, while Stan would be fully occupied loading or unloading cargo at the other end of the dock.

Maisie told the man on the gate that she’d come to apply for a job as a cleaner. He pointed indifferently towards the redbrick building and still didn’t remember her.

As she walked towards Barrington House, Maisie looked up at the windows on the fifth floor and wondered which office was his. She recalled her encounter with Mrs Nettles, and the way she had been shown the door the moment she mentioned her name. Now Maisie not only had a job she enjoyed and where she was respected, but she’d had two other offers in the past few days. She didn’t give Mrs Nettles another thought as she walked straight past the building and continued along the quayside.

Maisie didn’t slacken her pace until she could see his home. She found it hard to believe that anyone could possibly live in a railway carriage, and began to wonder if she’d made a dreadful mistake. Had Harry’s stories of a dining room, a bedroom and even a library, been exaggerated? ‘You can’t stop now you’ve come this far, Maisie Clifton,’ she told herself, and knocked boldly on the carriage door.

‘Come in, Mrs Clifton,’ said a gentle voice.

Maisie opened the door to find an old man sitting in a comfortable seat, with books and other possessions scattered around him. She was surprised how clean the carriage was, and realized that, despite Stan’s claims, it was she, and not Old Jack, who lived in third class. Stan had perpetuated a myth that had been ignored when viewed through the eyes of an unprejudiced child.

Old Jack immediately rose from his place and beckoned her towards the seat opposite. ‘You’ll have come to see me about young Harry, no doubt.’

‘Yes, Mr Tar,’ she replied.

‘Let me guess,’ he said. ‘You can’t make up your mind whether he should go to St Bede’s, or remain at Merrywood Elementary.’

‘How could you possibly know that?’ asked Maisie.

‘Because I’ve been considering the same problem for the past month,’ said Old Jack.

‘So what do you think he should do?’

‘I think that despite the many difficulties he will undoubtedly face at St Bede’s, if he doesn’t take this opportunity, he could well spend the rest of his life regretting it.’

‘Perhaps he won’t win a scholarship and the decision will be taken out of our hands.’

‘The decision was taken out of our hands,’ said Old Jack, ‘the moment Mr Frobisher heard young Harry sing. But I have a feeling that wasn’t the only reason you came to see me.’

Maisie was beginning to understand why Harry admired this man so much. ‘You’re quite right, Mr Tar, I need your advice on another matter.’

‘Your son calls me Jack, except when he’s cross with me, then he calls me Old Jack.’

Maisie smiled. ‘I’ve been worried that even if he did win a scholarship, I wasn’t earning enough for Harry to have all the little extras that the other boys at a school like St Bede’s take for granted. But fortunately I’ve just been offered another job, which would mean more money.’

‘And you’re worried about how Miss Tilly will react when you tell her you’re thinking of leaving?’

‘You know Miss Tilly?’

‘No, but Harry has spoken of her many times. She’s clearly from the same mould as Miss Monday, and let me assure you, that’s a limited edition. There’s no need for you to concern yourself.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Maisie.

‘Allow me to explain,’ said Old Jack. ‘Miss Monday has already invested a great deal of her time and expertise in making sure that Harry not only wins a scholarship to St Bede’s but, far more important, goes on to prove himself worthy of it. My bet is that she will have discussed every possible eventuality with her closest friend, who just happens to be Miss Tilly. So when you tell her about the new job, you may well find it doesn’t come as a complete surprise.’

‘Thank you, Jack,’ said Maisie. ‘How lucky Harry is to have you as a friend. The father he never knew,’ she said softly.

‘That is the nicest compliment I’ve received for a good many years,’ said Old Jack. ‘I’m only sorry that he lost his father in such tragic circumstances.’

‘Do you know how my husband died?’

‘Yes, I do,’ replied Old Jack. Aware that he should never had raised the subject, he quickly added, ‘But only because Harry told me.’

‘What did he tell you?’ asked Maisie anxiously.

‘That his father was killed in the war.’

‘But you know that’s not true,’ said Maisie.

‘Yes, I do,’ said Old Jack. ‘And I suspect Harry also knows his father couldn’t have died in the war.’

‘Then why doesn’t he say so?’

‘He probably thinks there’s something you don’t want to tell him.’

‘But I don’t know the truth myself,’ admitted Maisie.

Old Jack didn’t comment.

Maisie walked slowly home; one question answered, another still unresolved. Even so, she wasn’t in any doubt that Old Jack could be added to the list of people who knew the truth about what had happened to her husband.

Old Jack turned out to be right about Miss Tilly, because when Maisie told her about Mr Frampton’s offer, she couldn’t have been more supportive and understanding.

‘We’ll all miss you,’ she said, ‘and frankly the Royal is lucky to have you.’