Barbara Bradford - A Woman of Substance

Emma sat back in the chair, and between the champagne, the delicious food, the stimulating conversation, and the gaiety that prevailed amongst their friends, she managed to push aside those troubling thoughts of war that had assailed her at the outset of the evening.

In the following week Paul did not mention the war again and she carefully avoided the subject herself. They went to East Texas to visit the Sydney-Texas Oil Company, recently renamed Sitex at her suggestion, and then proceeded to West Texas, where Paul purchased oil leases in Odessa and Midland, much to Harry Marriott’s annoyance. Emma did not particularly like Paul’s partner and had not hesitated to say so when she had first met him some years before. It was on their return journey to New York that she reiterated her opinion, and asked Paul why Marriott was so unhappy about the new purchases.

Paul grinned and said, ‘Because he always wants to play it safe. He never wants to gamble. He’s afraid of losing or diminishing what we’ve already accumulated over the years. The fool. We’re one of the richest oil companies in America today, but expansion is necessary. No, vital. Harry means well, but he lacks imagination. Remember how he fought me when I bought the oil tankers? I proved him wrong about that. They’ve been an enormous asset to the company and more than earned their money back. I’ll prove him wrong again, Emma. I have a nose for oil, and I guarantee you it will be discovered in Odessa and Midland within a few years. I plan to start drilling there before the end of the year.’

‘It’s a good thing you own the majority of stock in that company, otherwise you might have really insurmountable problems with Marriott,’ Emma said.

‘You’re damned right.’ Paul chuckled. ‘You don’t think I’d be fool enough to spend the millions I invested initially without having control, do you?’

‘No,’ she conceded, laughing. ‘You’re far too tough and smart for that.’ She hesitated. ‘Are you sorry Daisy wasn’t a boy?’

‘Good Lord, no! Whatever makes you ask that, darling?’

‘Well, Howard can’t very well follow in your footsteps. And it’s often occurred to me you might be disappointed you don’t have a son to carry on the business, the McGill dynasty.’

‘What makes you think I’ve dismissed the idea of Daisy doing that? After all, if she takes after her beautiful mother she’ll make a hell of a good businesswoman. And she’ll marry one day and have children. My grandchildren. Ponder on that one, Emma.’

She did, never once forgetting his words.

One day, at the end of February, Paul came home early from the Sitex offices in New York, and Emma knew at once that something was terribly amiss. He appeared to be unusually preoccupied, kissed her somewhat absently, and fixed himself a drink, which was also rare in that it was only four o’clock.

Never one to hedge, she said immediately, ‘You’re upset, Paul. What is it?’

‘I can never hide anything from you, my love, can I?’ He sipped the drink, lit a cigarette, and then he told her, ‘I have booked a passage for you to England on the Queen Elizabeth. I was lucky enough to get a stateroom for you, even at this late date, so you will be comfortable, darling. You sail on Thursday.’

‘Aren’t you coming with me?’ she asked as evenly as possible, but her throat tightened.

‘No, darling, I can’t.’

‘Why not, Paul? You had planned to return with me.’

‘I want to go back to Texas for a few days, to take care of certain matters and to reassure myself that Harry fully understands I want to start drilling in Odessa as soon as possible. And then I’m going to Australia.’

‘But you weren’t supposed to go there until later in the year!’

‘Later in the year might be too late , Emma. I must leave as quickly as possible now, to attend to my interests over there and confer with the men who run my companies. You know how I feel about Japan’s threat to the Pacific. I can’t possibly leave anything to chance.’

Emma’s face had paled. ‘I don’t want you to go!’ she cried ‘I’m frightened-frightened you’ll get stuck in Australia if war breaks out before you can return to England. We could be separated for years.’ She rose and went to kneel at his feet. She looked up at him. ‘Please don’t go, darling. I beg you not to go!’ She touched his face lightly, the dearest face in the world to her, and her eyes brimmed.

‘You know I must, Emma darling,’ he said with the utmost gentleness. He smoothed one hand over her head and his eyes regarded her tenderly. ‘But I won’t stay for long. Only two months at the most. Things are in relatively good order out there. They have been for years. However, I must be sure everything will run smoothly, should I have to be absent for longer than the usual year. And I might have to be. We don’t know how long this war will last when it does come, do we?’ He smiled at her confidently. ‘I’ll get back quickly. I want to be with you in England when the conflict starts. I certainly don’t want you to be alone. Now come along, cheer up, sweetheart. I’ll only be gone eight weeks. That’s not so bad.’

Emma did not argue with Paul or further attempt to dissuade him, knowing it would be fruitless to do so. His holdings were so vast they staggered the imagination, and he could not shrug off the responsibilities they entailed, which were of equal magnitude. Power had its undeniable privileges but it brought crushing burdens as well. It was quite apparent that Paul, in all good conscience, could not ignore the world political situation, and the effect it would have on his business. Because of who and what she was, Emma understood his motives and acknowledged the necessity of his plan, even though she was not enamoured of it.

And so she put up a gay front for the next few days before she sailed. But the idea of being separated from Paul depressed her more than it ever had before, and that awful sense of foreboding stayed with her during the entire voyage to England. Even when she was settled in their house in Belgrave Square it persisted, gnawing at her peace of mind.

Torrential rain was falling when Paul left the nursing home on the outskirts of Sydney. He turned up the collar of his trench coat and made a dash for the Daimler.

He was drenched when he got inside and he shrugged out of his wet coat, tossing it carelessly on to the back seat. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his streaming face before lighting a cigarette. He noticed that his hand shook as he did so. He was in a blinding rage with Constance, so that was not very surprising. He had been on the verge of striking her a few moments before, and it had taken all of his will power to control himself, to take his leave of her with a degree of civility. The violence of his emotions appalled him. He had never struck a woman in his life, had not experienced such overwhelming anger in years.

Paul inserted the key in the ignition, pulled out of the parking area, and turned into the main road leading back into the city. His patience with Constance had entirely evaporated years ago, along with his pity, and now he loathed her. Loathed her. Damn it, he wasn’t going to be tied to her any longer. He would find a way to get the divorce himself. He would talk to his solicitor. There must be a legal loophole, a means of disentangling himself from this ridiculous marriage, which had not been a marriage for twenty-seven years. It was absurd that a man of his undeniable power should find himself in such an untenable situation, shackled to that demented creature, who surely held on to him only out of sheer perversity. He wondered what he had ever done to Constance to make her want to punish him. He had been a good husband in the early years. It had been her drinking and her promiscuousness which had come between them, and inevitably killed his love for her. He must have his freedom. For Emma and Daisy. And he was bloody well going to get it, come hell or high water. He gripped the steering wheel and hit the open road with ferocity.