Barbara Bradford - A Woman of Substance

‘I’ve found a large piece of land in Knightsbridge and I can get it for a good price. I would like you to see it.’ She touched his arm. ‘Could you come to London with me next week, darling?’

‘Sure and I’d be delighted. If you go ahead with the purchase I can start the plans immediately. I’ll build you a magnificent store, Emma. The best in London.’

They talked for a while about the intended department store. Emma expounded her ideas, which were grandiose, but her enthusiasm was so infectious Blackie found himself growing unexpectedly excited about the challenge she was presenting to him and his talents. After a little further discourse, Blackie seated himself at the piano and began to play. He sang a number of amusing Irish jigs and Emma sat back, as always enjoying his marvellous voice. Many of the guests thronged around the piano, just as they had done in the Mucky Duck, and Emma remembered the old days, and smiled to herself. And then she froze as Blackie’s rich baritone rang out again, pure and clear, in the opening strains of ‘Danny Boy’. Familiar words invoked in her a terrible yearning and a sadness that was overwhelming.

His voice swelled and filled the room as he commenced the second verse: ‘But when ye come, and all the flow’rs are dying-’

Emma could not bear to listen any more. She slipped out of the room, her heart tearing inside her, and her throat was choked as she thought of Paul, and only of him: gone from her for ever.

Frank and Winston exchanged alarmed glances and Frank shook his head as Winston rose. ‘I’ll go. You stay here with Charlotte.’ Frank followed quickly on Emma’s heels and caught up with her in the entrance hall. He took her arm and propelled her into the library without saying a word. He closed the door, put his arm around her shoulders, and then said, ‘He’s not coming back, Emma. You might as well face the facts.’

‘I have, Frank,’ she responded in a low resigned voice.

‘You know I would never interfere in your life, but I can’t stand to see your heartbreak any longer, Emma. There are certain things I must tell you. That you must know. I can’t hold them back.’

Emma looked at him warily. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Paul McGill is married.’

‘I know, Frank dear. I’ve always known.’

‘I see.’ His sensitive mouth settled into a grim line.

‘I suppose Dolly Mosten told you,’ Emma ventured.

‘Yes, she did.’

‘Dolly’s a gossip! She had no right to-’

‘I asked her, Emma. Forced her to tell me, in point of fact. Only out of concern for you, though.’

‘Oh,’ Emma said, and stared down at her hands miserably.

‘So Paul told you he was married. I suppose he also promised to get a divorce.’

‘He said he’d sort it all out after the war,’ Emma whispered, conscious of the venom in Frank’s voice.

She fell silent and Frank went on furiously, ‘Did he tell you he’s married to the daughter of one of the most prominent men in Australian politics and that her mother is from one of Sydney’s first families?’

‘No, he never discussed his wife.’

‘I bet he didn’t! I bet he didn’t tell you he had a child either.’

Emma gaped at Frank, her lip trembling. ‘A child!’

‘Yes. A boy. I gather he refrained from passing on that piece of vital information.’

‘He did,’ Emma confessed, her heart sinking. A wife he was estranged from she might have been able to compete with, but she could not fight a child. A son. Men as wealthy as Paul McGill pinned all of their hopes on the new generation, on the heir to the dynasty. He would never give up his son for her.

‘I need a drink,’ Frank said, standing up. ‘And so do you, by the looks of you.’ He poured a glass of champagne for Emma and a brandy for himself, observing his sister closely. By God, she is a strong woman, he thought admiringly. He knew she was shocked and distressed, but she was in full control of herself. He said, ‘I’m so sorry I had to hurt you, love, but you had to know.’

‘I’m glad you told me, Frank.’ She laughed bitterly. ‘You certainly gave Dolly a grilling, didn’t you?’

‘You’d be surprised what a woman will confide in her lover, especially in the intimacy of the bedroom.’

‘You and Dolly! Frank, I don’t believe it!’ she cried incredulously.

‘Yes, for the moment anyhow.’

‘But she’s years older than you.’

‘Ten to be exact. However, I don’t think my relationship with Dolly is the issue right now, is it?’

‘No, it’s not.’ Emma leaned forward intently. ‘How does she know so much about the McGills?’

‘She used to be Bruce McGill’s mistress several years ago.’

‘Philandering seems to be a family characteristic!’ Emma exclaimed contemptuously. ‘What else did she tell you? I might as well know all the details.’

‘Not much, really. Mostly Dolly talked about their wealth and their power. Actually, she didn’t seem to have much information about Paul’s wife or his son. In fact, I rather got the impression there was a bit of mystery about the wife. Dolly said something about Paul always appearing alone in public, even in Sydney before the war, and she indicated that he is a-’ Frank stopped short, and looked down at his drink.

‘A what?’

Frank cleared his throat. ‘Well, if you must know, Dolly implied he is a womanizer.’

‘I’m not surprised, Frank. Don’t be upset you told me.’

Frank tossed down the brandy. ‘I’m not upset. I’m just angry that you have been hurt.’ He rose and crossed to the console, returning with the bottles of cognac and champagne. He filled Emma’s empty glass and said, ‘I always liked Paul. I didn’t think he was such a bastard. Just goes to show you how wrong one can be in life. Why don’t you tell me about it, Emma? It sometimes helps to unburden yourself.’

Emma smiled grimly. ‘I doubt it. But I’ll tell you anything you want to know, Frank. Perhaps you can explain his behaviour to me.’

As Emma confided in Frank she slowly drank the whole bottle of champagne and for the first time in her life she deliberately got drunk. When Winston appeared in the doorway an hour later he stared at her in surprise. ‘You’re three sheets to the wind, Emma!’ he cried, moving with unusual swiftness across the floor.

Emma lifted the glass and waved it in the air, spilling half of the champagne. ‘Splishe the brashemain. I mean splishe the mainbrashe,’ she slurred, and hiccuped.

‘How could you let her get so pie-eyed, Frank!’ Winston exploded in an accusatory tone. He regarded Emma reclining languorously on the sofa, her eyes half closed, her mouth twitching with silent laughter. ‘She’ll have some head tomorrow,’ he muttered crossly.

‘So what? Don’t be so harsh, Winston,’ Frank said quietly. ‘For once in her life I think she really needed to let her hair down.’

Edwin Fairley’s face was grim and there was a cold anger in his eyes as he said, ‘You put the noose around your neck all by yourself, Gerald. There is absolutely nothing I can do to help you.’

Gerald gaped at his brother in stupefaction. His sly black eyes, narrowing in the bloated face, appeared smaller and more evil than ever. ‘Are you telling me that Procter and Procter are really within their legal rights? That they can take over the mills just like that?’ he asked fearfully.

‘Yes, I’m afraid I am, Gerald. A noncontestable note is just that-noncontestable. And since you attached the deeds as collateral you don’t have a leg to stand on if you can’t pay off the note. That was most foolhardy. Why did you do it?’

‘I needed the money,’ Gerald muttered, unable to meet Edwin’s direct stare.