Page 143 of The Gathering Storm

He moved a fraction closer. ‘Gloria,’ he said seriously, ‘I did a bad thing, and hurt you, and believe me, I’ve regretted it every day since. I was young and stupid and spoiled, but I’ve learned my lesson. I’ve grown up. I’ve been in Spain and seen people die.’

‘I know. I read the articles.’

‘Did you? Well, that sort of thing makes you realise what really matters. If I had the chance again, I would treat you in the way you should be treated.’

‘Why do you care?’ she questioned, watching his face.

What would be the right words? ‘You’re the only woman I’ve ever cared for,’ he said, and held his breath.

She gave a brisk little nod, as if agreeing the price of some not-very-important purchase. ‘Then you can take me to lunch,’ she said.

He suspected it was still a trial, so he hailed a taxi and told the driver to take them to the Criterion. It wasn’t very far, but it was cold and Gloria was not shod for walking.

It seemed to be the right choice because, once settled at a table, she thawed, and they were soon chatting with their previous freedom – except that he was no longer a boy, and had things to contribute. It was with regret that he had to go back to work, but she said she would see him that evening. He suggested the theatre, and she told him to call at her flat in Park Street, and they would decide then where to go.

He arrived, correctly togged in evening dress, with a taxi at the kerb, but she opened the door herself and told him to pay off the taxi. And they didn’t go out at all that evening.

Lennie stepped down from the train, and Polly was there, waiting, bundled up against the cold in a fur coat that he remembered from New York, before Alec was born: Ren must have bought it for her. It was a very American affair, a glossy dark mink, large and lavish and long, with a huge collar.

‘I bet no-one else in York has a coat like that,’ he said, putting his bags down to free his hands.

‘I’ve been mistaken for a film star, all due to the coat,’ she said.

‘It’s not the coat, it’s you,’ he said, took both of her hands and bent to kiss her cold cheek.

‘Everyone wanted to come and meet you, but here I am alone, no children, no dogs. You have no idea what an achievement that is. But I’m afraid when we get home there’ll be a welcoming committee, and no chance of being alone for the rest of the day. Alec is beside himself with excitement. Mrs Starling has been planning dishes for days. Jessie and Bertie and the girls are coming over for dinner, and Jeremy and Amelia.’

‘Ah, well. There’s always after lights-out. Shall I find the door barred, if I come creeping?’

She looked up at him with sparkling eyes. ‘What do you think?’ They picked up a bag each and walked towards the exit, their free arms linked. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘Alec and the Lohmanns have something planned – some sort of revue, I believe. I know singing is involved, but I think there’s playacting as well. They’ve been rehearsing up in the nursery all week.’

‘How are they settling in, the little refugees?’

‘Better than I hoped. I was prepared for months of sullenness and misery, but they’ve perked up wonderfully. They’ve even started school, which will make them learn English quickly. Alec’s been wonderful. He treats them rather like exotic pets, showing them off to people, but he takes great care of them. He’s even given up riding to school for the moment because they can’t ride with him. Though I suspect the weather made that an easy choice. It’s been so cold! It must be very strange for you – what was the weather like in California when you left?’

‘Hot, sunny,’ Lennie said. ‘Though remember, I came here via New York, and you have no idea how cold it is there in winter.’ He waved a hand at the frosty world around them. ‘This is like a balmy summer day in comparison.’

Polly said she didn’t need his help in any of the wedding plans, so he spent his days setting up the English office of Manning’s Radios, and looking for a suitable site for a factory. A very few enquiries led him to the premises in Leeds of Cosway Radios. In 1932, radio enthusiasts Mr Cosgrove and Mr Waynfleet had sold Mr Cosgrove’s motor-bicycle for the capital to begin making radio receiver sets. They now had a workshop employing ten people.

They had, of course, heard of Manning’s Radios, and were flattered to be approached by Mr Manning himself. He showed them technical drawings of new models he had planned, talked inspiringly of expansion and new markets; and it did not take much persuasion for them to sell their business, on the modest condition that the best of the new models was named ‘The Cosway’ in their honour. They also knew of a vacant factory – in fact they had been eyeing it for themselves to expand into, but they didn’t have the capital. Lennie set his agent to buy the new premises; he retained all of the Cosway staff and, liking the energy and enthusiasm of Mr Cosgrove and Mr Waynfleet, he employed them in higher management roles on generous salaries. Mr Waynfleet was to oversee the transfer of the Cosway kit and staff, the purchase and installation of new machinery, while Mr Cosgrove, who was unmarried, was to go on the road, in a new suit and smart haircut, to secure outlets for Manning’s Radios in Leeds, Manchester, Liverpool, Birmingham, and thence to every other large conurbation.

Lennie, who had for some time employed others to do the bread-and-butter work of his business, thoroughly enjoyed getting in at the bottom again, and was happily employed by day. Evenings were spent with Polly at home, often entertaining or being entertained by various friends and neighbours who wanted to inspect him. It was rather, he thought, as though he were a foreign prince brought in to marry a queen regnant. Would he be a passive George of Denmark or an active Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha? He thought he would endeavour to set a new template – supportive, discreet, modest, but nevertheless interesting – and be loved by all.

He heard whispers he was not meant to hear, that he was a millionaire, which was a cause of some excitement, and seemed, oddly, to tell against him slightly. Who knew what a millionaire might get up to? On the other hand, it was also passed around that he was a Morland by descent, through the American branch of the family, which meant he was made of the right stuff. And nobody seeing them together could doubt Polly adored him, so that had to be all right, hadn’t it?

And at night, after the house was quiet, he slipped discreetly into the Great Bedchamber to sink into Polly’s arms and a vast ocean of bliss. And this, he told himself, was only the beginning.

Polly had not heard from James with any regularity since he began helping to bring the Jewish children out of Germany. She had written telling him the date of her wedding, and begging him to come home for it, but hadn’t had a reply, and she wondered if he had even received it. But on the 3rd of March a telegram came, saying merely, ‘WOULDN’T MISS IT,’ and she had to be satisfied with that. The wedding plans were all in place. Bertie was going to give her away. Alec and Bibi were to be pages, Ottilie, now seventeen, and Mimi bridesmaids. Mr Ordsall was to conduct the ceremony. There was to be a sit-down wedding breakfast for fifty in the large dining-saloon, and everyone else was to come in the evening for dancing and a buffet supper.

After which, Lennie would be licensed to enter the royal bedchamber openly and as of right.

‘No honeymoon?’ he asked, when Polly told him the details.

‘It’s a bit awkward at the moment,’ she said. ‘So much to do. And the weather isn’t good. Could we have a week later in the year – in May or June, perhaps? We could go to the seaside. I’d like that.’

‘Whatever you want,’ he said. ‘The rest of our lives will be our honeymoon.’

She kissed him. ‘You say the nicest things.’