‘I’m in no hurry, Ted. I’m not in trouble. It’s Fairley who is sinking.’
‘Yes, he is. The damned fool. It takes some sort of genius for ineptness to suffer losses in wartime when every other cloth manufacturer has made a fortune from government contracts.’
‘That’s very true. Goodbye, Ted,’ She hung up.
Emma leaned back in her chair and a gloating smile settled on that beautiful face. It’s all happening sooner than I expected, she thought. It struck her then that she did not have to make a serious effort to destroy the Fairleys. Gerald was doing it for her. Ever since Adam Fairley had been felled by a stroke Gerald had been in total control of the mills and without his father’s guidance he was floundering. All I have to do now is sit back and watch him dig a pit so deep he will never climb out, Emma said to herself.
Later she acknowledged that Gerald would undoubtedly fight the Procter and Procter terms, but he would have to accept them eventually out of the necessity to save his skin. And he would never be able to raise the money to pay off the note on its due date. But she could afford to be generous. She would extend the note for a few months and thus lull Gerald Fairley into a greater sense of false security. When she was ready she would foreclose on the note and take over the Fairley mills. Emma laughed. She had Gerald Fairley cornered and he was in complete ignorance of the fact.
As she had suspected, Gerald Fairley at first balked at the terms and backed off from the proposition for longer than she had anticipated. To her considerable amusement she heard he was running around endeavouring to raise the money he required. He was miserably unsuccessful. After four days, panic-stricken and dealing from a position of increasing desperation, he finally slunk back to Alan Procter and signed the noncontestable corporate note to which he had been forced to attach the deeds of the two Fairley mills. He did so because, once again, he thought he was dealing with a friend whom he believed would never make a move to endanger the ownership of his mills.
One week later, when Emma placed the note and the deeds in her safe, her triumph was unalloyed.
David Kallinski pulled the car to a standstill outside Emma’s house, and turned to her. ‘Thanks for working this morning, Emma. It was good of you to give up part of your Sunday with the children.’
Emma smiled. ‘I didn’t mind. Really, I didn’t, David. Actually I was glad to get the summer sketches for the Lady Hamilton line out of my hair, and I knew you were anxious to put them into work immediately.’ She opened the car door. ‘Are you sure you won’t come in for a drink?’
‘No. Thanks anyway, but I’ve got to be going. I promised my father I’d stop in to see him.’ He caught her arm abruptly. ‘Emma, there’s something I want to tell you.’
So intense was his voice Emma was alarmed. ‘Is there something wrong, David?’
‘I’m thinking of geting a divorce.’
Thunderstruck, Emma gaped at him in disbelief. ‘A divorce! My God, David!’ She hesitated, and then said, ‘Aren’t things quite right between you and Rebecca?’
‘No better than before the war.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’m finding life intolerable since I came home. I might as well be honest with you—’ He broke off, staring at her closely. ‘I’m still in love with you, Emma. I thought if I was free – Well, I had hoped you would marry me.’
Emma stiffened, taken unawares, and shaken by his proposal. ‘Oh, David, David.’ She touched his hand clenched on the car wheel and said, ‘My dear, you know that’s not possible. I didn’t make that sacrifice nine years ago, when you were single, in order to create a catastrophe now that you are married. It would kill your mother. Besides, you have two young sons and I have two children. There are other people to think about, as well as Rebecca and yourself. I told you years ago that it’s not possible to build happiness on other people’s misery, and I know I’m right.’
‘But what about you and me, Emma?’ he asked, his eyes filling with pain.
‘There is no you and me, David.’ Sharply conscious of his disappointment, she said softly, ‘I hope I haven’t done anything to encourage you, David. Surely I haven’t built up your hopes, have I?’
He grinned ruefully. ‘No, of course you haven’t. And I haven’t spoken out before now because I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching. Finally, last week, I knew I had to tell you how I felt. Being silent was accomplishing nothing. You see, I always thought you loved me, even after you married Joe. All through the war I believed that. It kept me going, kept me alive, in a sense. My feelings are exactly the same as they were and so I assumed yours were, too. But you don’t love me anymore, do you?’
‘Oh, David, darling, of course I do. As a dear friend. To be truthful, I was still in love with you when I married Joe. Now I have a different kind of love for you, and I am different. The vicissitudes of life do intrude and ultimately feelings change as well. I’ve come to understand that the only thing that is permanent is change.’
‘You’re in love with someone else, aren’t you?’ he exclaimed with a flash of intuition.
Emma did not answer. She dropped her eyes and clutched her handbag tightly and her mouth slipped into a thin line.
David said, ‘I know the answer to that, although you are silent. You don’t have to spare my feelings,’ he announced crisply but without rancour. ‘I ought to have guessed. Nine years is a long time. Are you going to marry him?’
‘No. He’s gone away. He doesn’t live in this country. I don’t think he will ever come back.’ Her voice was muffled.
David detected the sorrow and defeat in her, and despite his own hurt, sympathy surged up in him, for he truly loved her and had her welfare at heart. He put his hand on hers and squeezed it. ‘I’m awfully sorry, Emma.’
Emma looked at him through dulled eyes. ‘It’s all right. My wound is almost healed – I hope.’
‘There’s no chance for me, is there, Emma? Even with him out of the picture.’
‘That’s true, David. And I will always tell you the truth, although it is often distressing to hear. I would not intentionally hurt you for the world, and there’s very little I can say to comfort you, I suppose. Please forgive me, David.’
‘There’s nothing to forgive, Emma. I can’t condemn you for not being in love with me anymore.’ His eyes were soft. ‘I hope you find peace yourself, Emma darling.’
‘I hope so, too.’ She opened the door. ‘No, please don’t get out.’ She kissed him on the cheek. ‘Think carefully before you do anything rash about Rebecca and your marriage. She is a good person and she does love you. And remember that you are very special to me, David. I’m your friend and I’m always here if you need me.’
‘Thank you for that. And I’m your devoted friend, too, Emma, and if there’s anything I can do to make things easier for you, now or later, you know I will.’ He smiled. ‘It seems we’re both crossed in love. If you need a strong shoulder – well, it’s here.’
‘Thank you for being so kind and understanding.’ She attempted to smile. ‘I’ll see you at the factory as usual next week. Bye.’
‘Goodbye, Emma darling.’
Emma walked up the garden path without looking back, her feet crunching on the hard snow, her head bent. She was filled with compassion for David, conscious of his dejection, and his suffering was her own. Her face was stark in the bleak winter light as her thoughts swung abruptly to Paul. She stopped at the front door, and took a deep breath before going inside. She took off her coat and hat in the hall, looked in on Mrs Fenton, who was preparing Sunday lunch in the kitchen, and then wearily climbed