Barbara Bradford - A Woman of Substance

‘I don’t think so, Mr Ainsley,’ Emma said softly, and with a self-assured smile. ‘Naturally they will go after them, but I have connections in London. And, in any event, the government is going to need plenty of cloth for uniforms, believe me. There will be enough business to go around.’

Dazzled, Arthur said, ‘My father has always considered you to have remarkable vision and certainly you seem confident. What would you like me to do, in regard to the Layton mill?’

‘Telephone Mr Layton and tender my offer as soon as you get into your office on Monday. Arrange an appointment with him for Monday afternoon. I will go with you and we can sign immediately. And make sure he has his solicitor there. I don’t want any procrastination.’

‘Yes, I understand,’ Arthur said, echoing her businesslike tone.

Emma picked up the papers on her desk and handed them to him. ‘These are the original contracts. I have made various changes, those I considered necessary. However, I am sure they are in order. In fact, the changes are so minor you should be able to redraw the contracts by noon.’

She certainly knows how to give her orders, Arthur thought with a stab of resentment, but nodded. ‘That’s no problem,’ he asserted

‘And here is my cheque for the full purchase price.’ Emma gave him the envelope and went on, ‘I want you to take it today so that you can tell Mr Layton, in all truthfulness, that you have it in your hands when you speak with him.’ Emma’s green eyes, now brilliant, rested on Arthur. To her amusement he appeared to be dumbfounded. ‘I don’t think you will have any problems with Mr Layton. I am making him an offer he will find extremely difficult to refuse under the circumstances,’ she said. ‘I know my rival will not be able to move as rapidly as I can.’

‘Oh, I endorse that wholeheartedly!’ Arthur then said, with a disarming smile, ‘May I invite you to lunch on Monday, before we go to Layton’s? It would be my pleasure.’

Emma feigned dismay. ‘Oh dear, I can’t. It’s very kind of you to ask me, but I already have an appointment for lunch that day. I will meet you at your office at two o’clock, if that is convenient, and we can go over the contracts before our appointment with Mr Layton.’

Arthur concealed his disappointment, aware that his charm had no effect on her. ‘Yes, that’s fine. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?’ he asked, anxious to prolong his visit.

Invariably pressed for time and having no use for idle chatter, Emma said, ‘No, that’s about it.’ She rose abruptly. Arthur jumped up, reaching for his briefcase. Emma accompanied him to the door. ‘Thank you for coming in, Mr Ainsley. And do give my best to your father. I hope he feels better soon.’ She stretched out her hand, shook Arthur’s quickly, and opened the door. He found himself whisked out of her office with such speed he barely had a chance to take his leave of her courteously.

Emma smiled when she was alone. Arthur Ainsley fancies himself, she thought, and then forgot all about him, turning her attention to the store’s business. A few minutes after Ainsley had left the office Joe marched in unexpectedly. Having determined, the night before, to be her most affectionate with him in every way, Emma greeted him warmly, only to be rebuffed by a gruff response. Despite her irritation at this intrusion on her busiest morning, and her bafflement at his obnoxious manner, the smile on Emma’s face did not falter. She opened her mouth to ask him why he was upset when he saved her the trouble.

‘What the hell was Arthur Ainsley doing here?’ he growled, flinging himself into the chair recently vacated by the young man.

‘Because he’s our solicitor. Don’t tell me that has slipped your mind, Joe.’

‘His father is our solicitor,’ Joe snapped.

‘Frederick Ainsley is ill. I had some urgent business to be dealt with and he sent Arthur in his place.’

‘I don’t like that chap!’ Joe announced.

Joe’s tone was so harsh Emma was further startled. ‘For goodness’ sake, don’t be so snappy, dear. Arthur Ainsley is pleasant and also able, I think.’

‘He’s charming to you, Emma. You wear skirts. That chap’s a real womanizer. He’s a rake!’

Emma laughed. ‘Oh, Joe, don’t be so silly. Anyway, his private life is his own affair, I think.’

‘Well, I don’t like the way he behaves around you, Emma. I’ve noticed how young Ainsley dances attendance on you, and he positively leers at you. He’s too bloody cocksure of his so-called fatal charms, if you ask me.’

Emma bit back a smile. Joe was jealous, an emotion he had not hitherto displayed before. But then she never gave him any reason to be jealous, nor did she have any inclination to do so. Men were the last thing on her mind.

‘Look here, Joe, you’re getting excited about nothing. I don’t encourage Arthur Ainsley’s attentions. In fact, I’ve never noticed them, to tell you the truth. It’s hardly my fault that Mr Ainsley sends him here on business matters. Come along, love, don’t be childish,’ she said cajolingly.

Joe felt suddenly foolish and he grinned, looking shamefaced. ‘Yes, you’re right, but what was so urgent that you had to deal with it on Saturday?’

Emma told him about her decision to buy Layton’s mill, explaining some of the ramifications and the necessity for moving with a degree of swiftness. ‘Surprise is often the best weapon,’ she pointed out. ‘Percy Lomax thinks he’s got Layton’s mill. He thinks he’s outsmarted me, but he’s wrong. Nobody outsmarts me. Ever!’

Joe was staring at her askance. ‘Don’t you think you’re biting off more than you can chew?’ he cried.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked in surprise.

‘Between the store, the Gregson Warehouse, and Lady Hamilton Clothes it seems to me that you have enough to keep you busy twenty-four hours a day, without that blasted mill.’

She laughed. ‘I’m not going to be running the mill, Joe.’

‘Knowing you, Emma, you’ll want to take an active interest in the administration. You never leave anything to chance, and you’d have to be involved out of necessity. From what I hear, Layton’s needs reorganizing, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes, it does. But I’ve thought everything out well in advance. I’ll get a good manager.’

‘Who? They’re hard to come by, you know.’

‘Ben Andrews. I’ve-’

‘Ben Andrews! Good God, Emma, he’s been at Thompson’s mill for donkey’s years. You’ll never get him to leave.’

‘That’s where you’re mistaken, Joe. I’ve had several meetings with Ben and he wants to leave Thompson’s. I only have to say the word. He hasn’t been too happy there since the new owners took over four years ago. He’s itching to get out, if you want to know the truth.’

Joe grinned. ‘I’ve got to take my hat off to you, Emma. You certainly know how to pick ‘em. Ben is a hell of a good man. The best in the woollen business. He’s made Thompson’s, that’s a certainty.’

Emma nodded. ‘I know. And that’s the secret of my success. Finding the right people and being willing to delegate authority to those who are capable of handling it. I’m also very generous. I made Ben an offer Thompson’s would never match, even if he wanted to stay with them!’

Observing her with grudging approbation, Joe saw her delighted smile turn into one of triumph. He could not help laughing. Shaking his head, he said, ‘I suppose it tickles you to death to be in a position to employ Ben Andrews, considering he was your boss when you worked at Thompson’s. I can’t say I blame you.’

‘No, it doesn’t,’ Emma said softly and in all truthfulness. It was the idea of luring Ben Andrews, three top foremen, and twenty of the best weavers away from Thompson’s that intoxicated her. Without Ben’s superior management and those experienced workers, Thompson’s output would be crippled and the mill would be in disastrous trouble. A thrill of pure elation ran through her. She had just made her first move against the Fairleys, owners of J. P. Thompson and Son.