Megan of Merseyside Page 25

  ‘Always playing the support role, but never the boss!’ Robert laughed grimly.

  Megan sat bolt upright. Never the boss! Why not be the boss? she asked herself. Why not have a company of her own? She had plenty of knowledge about import and export, organising freight, storing cargo and dealing with customs regulations.

  She turned to Robert, her eyes bright with excitement. He listened in thoughtful silence. By the time she stopped expounding her plans he seemed to be almost as enthusiastic as she was. When she paused for breath, he began enlarging on the ideas she had already put forward.

  ‘You’ll have to clear up this mess with Miles Walker first, though,’ Robert reminded her. ‘I’d approach him face to face and try to come to some sort of amicable arrangement, if that is possible. He’s offered to buy the Rolls, so that could provide you with some capital to start your business,’ he pointed out. ‘Would you like me to speak to him for you, Megan?’

  ‘No!’ She placed her hand on his arm to soften the forcefulness of her reply. ‘It’s something I’ve got to do myself,’ she explained.

  ‘You’d better have the Rolls valued before you go to see him so that you ask the right price for it.’

  ‘I’ve got an even better idea,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘I’ll ask him to swop the Rolls for one of the lorries!’

  Miles smirked with pleasure when Megan presented herself at his office next day.

  ‘I’ve come to talk terms,’ she said stiffly.

  ‘I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. The old man must have been out of his mind when he put that in his will,’ Miles said dismissively.

  ‘Yes, as you said it is one of the company’s status symbols. Especially with its personalised number plates!’

  ‘So you’re prepared to hand it back.’

  ‘Oh, no! It’s not going to be quite that simple, Miles,’ she told him coolly.

  His eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened. ‘You mean you want the market price,’ he sneered as he pulled out a cheque book and unscrewed the top of his fountain pen.

  ‘There’s no need for that.’ Megan held up her hand before Miles could start to write. ‘I want to do a deal. I’ll give you back the Rolls in exchange for two of your lorries. I’ll take the new Commer and the Bedford …’

  ‘Sod that!’ he exploded. ‘Do you know how much they cost? They’re the newest ones in our fleet.’

  ‘Well, I don’t want the old clapped out ones, now, do I?’ She smiled sweetly.

  ‘Why do you want lorries in exchange for the Rolls anyway?’ Miles asked in amazement. ‘You must be mad!’

  She stood up and began to move towards the door. ‘That’s the deal or I keep the Rolls.’

  ‘Why do you want the lorries?’

  Megan’s eyes narrowed and for a moment she thought of ignoring his question. ‘I’m starting up in business for myself,’ she told him and her voice cracked like a whip in the silence.

  Miles’ lip curled and he stared at her in disbelief. He was sure she was bluffing, but as their eyes locked he saw how determined she was.

  ‘You’ll never succeed, you know,’ he said scathingly. ‘You’re taking on a great deal more than you can cope with, Megan. They won’t give you the time of day down at the docks. No reputable company will entrust their cargoes to a woman.’

  ‘Really! You mean it’s a man’s world? They’re happy enough to let a woman type the invoices, fill in all the forms and organise everything from the office.’

  The scorn in her voice startled him. He had never thought of it like that before and grudgingly he had to admit to himself that she was right.

  ‘I suppose you are going to try and pinch all our best customers,’ he sneered.

  ‘I hadn’t thought of doing so, but it is quite a good idea,’ Megan countered as she moved back towards his desk. ‘Are we agreed, then? You’ll give me the two lorries in settlement for the Rolls.’

  ‘Not those two. There’s a Morris and a Ford you can have instead.’

  ‘They’re ready for the scrap yard and you know it. The Morris was involved in a smash the year I joined the company and it’s been a problem ever since.’

  The deadlock seemed unsurpassable. For another twenty minutes they argued. Megan stuck to her ground. Where once she would have given way to male authority, now she was like a tiger fighting for its share of the kill. She refused to give an inch. It had to be the two vehicles she had stipulated and reluctantly Miles recognised this. Grudgingly, he gave in to her demands.

  ‘Whew!’ His old grin was back and for a moment Megan felt her heart thundering. Miles’ devastating charm, and animal magnetism, still had its effect on her. Then she steeled her mind, remembering the past and all the heartache he had already cost her.

  ‘Are we clear on all these points?’ she persisted, frowning down at the notebook in which she had listed the details of their transaction.

  ‘I’m not sure!’ He held out his hand. ‘Let me check it and make sure that you haven’t made any mistakes.’

  With an inscrutable look she passed the notebook over to him, smiling to herself as she saw his puzzled frown as he stared uncomprehendingly at the shorthand hieroglyphics written there. He looked up at her questioningly, but she returned his gaze blankly.

  Silently, Miles passed the notebook back to her and without a word she dropped it into her handbag. He found himself comparing her with his wife. A feeling of discontent swept through him. Memories of the ripe softness of Megan’s body, the sweetness of her lips, her compliant surrender as they’d consummated their love, filled his mind. It was never like that with Carol. She made love as if bestowing some tremendous favour.

  He had found married life disappointing in other respects, too. Megan not only had a body made for loving, but she had a needle-sharp mind that he had found equally stimulating.

  His father had recognised Megan’s business acumen and now she was no longer in the office Miles realised more and more how great an asset she had been. He wanted her back but it looked as if he had left it too late to ask her.

  ‘Right. I’m glad that’s settled,’ Megan told him. ‘You have the necessary papers drawn up and I’ll ask my solicitor to contact Mr Ramton. I’ll arrange for the lorries to be collected as soon as the legal formalities are completed,’ she said briskly. ‘I shall expect them to be in clean condition and intact,’ she added as a parting shot. ‘No removing spares, or any other tricks. Remember, I know everything about those vehicles.’

  Before he could reply she had gone, closing the door firmly behind her.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  MEGAN HAD NEVER worked so hard in her life, yet at night, although she was dropping with fatigue and every bone in her body was aching, sleep eluded her.

  Long after she was in bed her mind was a jumbled merry-go-round of all the things she had done that day and tasks that still needed her attention. Even when she finally dozed off she would dream about work.

  It often amazed her that problems which had seemed insurmountable when she went to bed had a logical solution by the next morning.

  Robert was wonderfully supportive. Without his help and guidance, Megan was sure she would never have managed to get her haulage business started. He constantly suggested shortcuts, or ways of doing things, that she just wouldn’t have considered.

  It had been Robert who had found a one-room shed with a phone that they were able to rent as a temporary office on the dockside. He’d given it a coat of paint and then bought a second-hand desk, two sturdy straight-back chairs, a typewriter and a filing cabinet to furnish it. He’d even painted her name in black letters on a piece of white board and nailed it to the door.

  ‘There you are, now you’re in business,’ he told her. ‘You can start writing around, offering your services to some of the local companies.’

  ‘I’ve already prepared a publicity letter; I only needed an address for replies. I didn’t think it would sound businesslike to have them sent to me at home.’


  ‘The best of luck, then. It may take a while before you get any response,’ he warned. ‘Half of them won’t even bother to reply.’

  Waiting for work to come in was the hardest part, but Robert boosted her morale whenever it seemed to be sagging.

  When she told her father that she had swapped the Rolls for two lorries, he had looked at her blankly.

  ‘What did you do a thing like that for?’ he asked in a puzzled tone.

  ‘So that we would have vehicles to drive! I’m going to start my own haulage business with you in charge of the transport side of things,’ she told him excitedly.

  ‘I can only drive one lorry at a time so why do you need two?’ he muttered, staring at her in bemusement. ‘You won’t be able to afford to pay a driver, girl.’

  ‘I’m driving the other one!’

  Her father had scoffed, railed, ridiculed, but she had stuck to her guns. Robert had backed her and insisted on taking her out for a meal.

  ‘Put your glad rags on, kiddo,’ he ordered, ‘we’re going to celebrate in style. I’m going to take you to the Adelphi for a nosh.’

  ‘The Adelphi! Will they let lorry drivers in there?’ she teased.

  ‘No one will know when you’re dressed up, and I won’t let on if you don’t.’ Robert grinned.

  The dining room at the Adelphi Hotel was the most magnificent room Megan had ever been in. Its mirrored walls reflected the tables that were spread with gleaming white napery, glittering crystal, sparkling cutlery and pretty flower arrangements as well as the elegantly dressed people sitting at them.

  It was all so imposing that Megan felt self-conscious and wondered if her simple, knee-skimming pink dress with its scoop neckline was really smart enough for the occasion.

  It was so much easier for men. Robert was wearing a three-piece navy blue suit and had merely substituted a black bow tie for his usual striped one, and yet he looked as correctly dressed as any other man in the room.

  Even better than a great many of them, she thought as she admired the square set of his broad shoulders. He was so powerfully built that it wasn’t until he stood alongside other men, and his shock of light-brown hair was way above their heads, that it became apparent that he was over six foot tall.

  He was quite a remarkable person, she thought fondly as she listened to him ordering their meal. Quietly confident, he wasn’t in the least daunted by the waiter’s supercilious manner.

  They were halfway through the first course before Megan relaxed enough to look around and take stock of people sitting at nearby tables. When she did, she was taken aback as she met the gaze of Stanley Martingale, one of Walker’s most valued customers.

  She returned his nod of recognition with a smile, but felt disconcerted when she saw him rise and make his way over to their table.

  ‘I’m sorry to disturb your meal, Miss Williams,’ he murmured after she’d introduced him to Robert, ‘but I wondered if anything was wrong with Miles Walker. I’ve been trying to get in touch with him all week and he hasn’t returned any of my calls and …’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Martingale, but I can’t help you,’ Megan interrupted. ‘I don’t work there any more.’

  ‘Really! They’ll certainly miss you!’ His shrewd green eyes narrowed under their bushy grey brows. ‘I can offer you a job, Megan, if you need one.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you but I’ve gone into business on my own account,’ she blurted out, her colour rising.

  ‘You have! Let me guess … hairdressing … a beauty salon … one of these new secretarial agencies. Send me the details and I’ll put the word around …’

  ‘It’s nothing like that. I’ve started my own haulage business.’ His startled expression made her smile. ‘So if you need anything moving …’

  ‘Well, I do! That’s why I’ve been trying to contact Miles. I’ve got a consignment due in first thing tomorrow on the Marie Louise, one of the Magda Line boats …’

  ‘And you want it moving right away?’

  ‘That’s right! I haven’t any storage space available in my warehouses so I want it taken straight off the boat and up to Newcastle. Could you handle a job like that?’

  ‘Certainly. I’ll collect the papers from your office first thing in the morning,’ she told him crisply.

  ‘Dammit, you mean it!’ Laughter convulsed him, making him cough and splutter as he shook his head from side to side, staring at her in disbelief.

  ‘Don’t you mean it, Mr Martingale?’ asked Megan stiffly, her cheeks scarlet.

  ‘By God, I do. Let’s shake on it.’ He extended his hand and pumped hers energetically. ‘It’s good to do business with you. Enjoy your meal.’

  Stanley Martingale was still shaking with laughter as he went back to his table. Minutes later he sent a waiter over to their table with a bottle of champagne.

  Delighted by the turn of events, Megan clinked glasses with Robert in a toast. ‘To the success of my very first order,’ she murmured, then turned and raised her glass in Mr Martingale’s direction.

  Although Robert was pleased for her, he was more than a little irritated by its timing. It spoiled the evening as far as he was concerned. He had chosen the Adelphi because it was the finest hotel in Liverpool and he had felt it would be the perfect setting in which, once again, to ask Megan to marry him.

  Now, after Stanley Martingale’s interruption, it didn’t seem to be the right moment to do so … not if he wanted his proposal to be taken seriously.

  He remembered the first time he had seen her, not long after the Williams family had arrived in Liverpool. She had been so shy, her elfin face so serious, and the soft lilt in her voice so captivating that he had felt unexpectedly protective towards her. Her demure aloofness had intrigued him.

  She’d changed since then, both in character and appearance. Her dark hair was no longer caught back behind her ears, but sculpted to her head in a style that framed her cheeks. The wispy tendrils over her ears and forehead emphasised her long lashes and dark eyebrows, imparting a gamin look, especially when she was wearing her working outfit of a jacket and trousers.

  The elegant dress she was wearing for their outing, a sheath of glowing pink, skimmed her body in a figure-flattering way. A single strand of pearls added a touch of sophistication.

  His hand went to the pocket of his jacket, feeling the small square box secreted there, longing to slide the ring that nestled inside it onto her slim finger.

  When he had first heard the rumours linking Megan’s name with that of Miles Walker, he had been incensed. For the first time in his life he had known what it was to be jealous. He had debated whether or not to warn her that Miles was a philanderer, but hesitated in case by doing so he put his own friendship with her on the line.

  Providing a shoulder for Megan to weep on when she learned that Miles was to marry Carol Brocklehurst had not been easy. It became an even greater torment on learning that she was pregnant with Miles’ child. His offer then to marry her had not been made lightly. He would have been prepared to accept the child if by doing so he stood a chance of winning her love.

  That was all in the past, he reminded himself.

  Now, sitting across the table from her, watching her dark eyes glow with excitement at securing such a sizeable order for her new business venture, his spirits sank and he deplored his own diffidence. If he asked her now she might think it was because of her business success.

  The moment the thought crossed his mind he rejected it. He knew her too well ever to believe she would think that. His hand went once more to his pocket, fingering the little box hidden there. Should he do as he had planned and pop the question as the climax to their meal?

  What if she should refuse? He didn’t want to contemplate that, not for a moment. Yet, if she did, he would be more than ready to agree she should have time to think it over. He’d even planned for such an eventuality by making arrangements to go on a walking holiday so that she wouldn’t feel pressurised into giving him an immedi
ate answer.

  He withdrew his hand from his pocket. The question and the ring must wait. It would be far better if he went on holiday as he intended, and asked her when he came home.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  WATKIN WILLIAMS WAS apprehensive when Megan told him she would be transporting incoming cargo for Stanley Martingale.

  ‘You do know he is one of Walker’s main customers?’ he cautioned.

  ‘Of course I do! I worked in the office long enough to know every customer they had, didn’t I?’ she retorted sharply.

  ‘Well, is it right, girl? Poaching like this, I mean.’

  ‘I’m not poaching.’ Her eyes flashed as she defended herself. ‘He came to me, I didn’t approach him.’

  ‘From what you said, Martingale simply asked you if you knew why Miles Walker wasn’t returning his calls.’

  ‘And I told him I didn’t know because I wasn’t working at Walker’s any more.’

  ‘Ah well.’ He shrugged. ‘If, as they say, “all is fair in love and war”, then I suppose the same thing applies in business as well.’

  With Robert, they planned the best method of unloading the Marie Louise, and which of the lorries to load first, how long the trip would take and the most suitable route.

  ‘Megan, are you sure you’ll be able to drive …?’ Watkin asked apprehensively.

  ‘Look, Dad, let’s get it straight once and for all. I’m in charge and I drive whenever there’s enough work for two lorries,’ she insisted. ‘Right?’

  ‘That’s the worst of having a woman boss,’ lamented Watkin. ‘They always get the better of you,’ he added with an indulgent smile.

  ‘Well, at least you know where you stand!’ Robert laughed. ‘I hope things go smoothly. I’m off tomorrow on a walking holiday in North Wales. Shall I say “hello” to Beddgelert for you?’

  ‘You can certainly do that, boyo!’ enthused Watkin, his eyes lighting up. ‘I wish I was going with you.’

  ‘Oh, Dad!’