CHAPTER 17
Henry Forsyth read once again the words that were already burned on his memory. A Dear John letter he had heard of, but this was cruel. Not even a Dear Henry. Or Dear Harry.
Harry,
I have found a new job and a new boyfriend, and I am very happy. Stick to your chisels and toys.
Catriona
Carefully, he folded the letter, such as it was, and pushed it into the envelope, staring at it for a while before opening a box in a cupboard high up on the wall and placing it inside to join the two other objects that gathered dust there, a music box in the form of a half complete model church, and a simple ring.
So Catriona has a new boyfriend, he thought. That’s the way things happen sometimes, and I can only accept the fact, but did you have to be so unkind? Couldn’t you have let me down a little more gently? I don’t make toys. I never did. Catriona. The Catriona he loved so much. His mind drifted back to their first meeting.
*
’Excuse me. Is this place free?’
The occupant of the table looked up and smiled at the young woman who had just addressed him.
’Yes.’
She placed her mug on the table, and accepted the chair the man had pulled out for her with a smile of her own.
’Thank you. It’s a bit busy in here today.’
’Yes,’ he said again.
The girl sipped her tea, looking out over the cliffs to the sea beyond. She studied the man opposite out of the corner of her eye, before speaking again.
’It’s a lovely day for cycling, isn’t it?’
’Yes.’ He thought he really must try to find something else to say, but on the other hand, he hadn’t started the conversation.
’I usually go down to the sea front when I come here, but I thought I’d have a change today,’ she said.
’Oh, I always come to this place. It’s a nice view.’
’Do you do a lot of cycling, then?’
’Yes. This is one of my favourite runs. It’s not too long.’
’About forty miles, isn’t it? You look surprised. We live in the same town. I’ve seen you there.’
’Have you? Where?’ he asked.
’Oh, around town. And in the Palais on a Saturday night.’
’Do you go dancing?’
’Yes. Not every week though, only when I can get a partner.’
He grinned at her. ’I don’t blame you. Some of the characters that get there are a bit rough, especially late in the evening. A girl needs to be in company.’
The comment broke the ice, and soon the couple were talking as though they were old friends, discovering they shared a common interest in conventional ballroom dancing, and had little time or enthusiasm for the more modern styles which were creeping in and threatened to overtake the traditionalists.
He looked at his watch. ’Time for me to be going,’ he said. ’I have to be at work in the morning.’
’So have I,’ she said. ’Do you mind if I ride home with you?’
’A bit of company’s always welcome,’ he said, flushing with pleasure.
They left the cafe, packed their few belongings on the bicycles and mounted, riding away along the cliff top and towards the one in four hill that snaked around the next bay only a few miles away.
’What’s your name?’ she asked. ’I mean, I can’t keep on saying hey you, can I?’
’Henry. Henry Forsyth. Most people call me Harry.’
She waited, but soon realised that no further information was forthcoming. Clearly Mr Forsyth was one of those silent types, a fact she had deduced from their slightly stilted conversation to date.
’Mine’s Catriona Foster. You know, of Foster’s Grocery chain. At least, that’s what the venerable parent likes to call it. Only three small shops, but you’d think we were frightening competition for Harrods to hear him talk. That’s where I work. In one or other of the shops, that is, not Harrods. Not that I intend to do that all my life, but it’s the expected thing. Later, when I get energetic, or rebellious enough, then I’ll do something else.’
Foster’s. Yes, he knew of them, of course. Most people did. Her father was prominent in local politics and was said to be pushing hard for the position of mayor next year.
’What about you? Where do you work?’
’I’m in a shop as well. Diggens Model shop. You know, the one in the town centre.’
’A toy shop?’
’No, they’re serious models we sell.’
’Toys for men.’ She dismissed the idea airily.
’No, really,’ he started, but desisted when he saw that she had no real interest and was only making polite conversation, even though her comment about toys for men hadn’t been the most tactful. He fell silent again as they approached the steep hill. Steadily they ground up it, until rather less than half way Catriona stopped and began to walk. Henry continued for a while before stopping in turn and waiting for her to catch up, although he could very well have ridden to the top without pausing. She laughed happily.
’Continue if you like,’ she said breathlessly. ’I’m not much good at hill climbing.’
He was, she could see. Very good indeed. Not only silent, but strong and silent. The muscles on his calves and arms had stood out like knotted branches while he was riding up the hill with little apparent effort. She thought again with bitterness of the little girl machine she had been given, instead of a proper bicycle.
Later they became firm friends and regular dancing partners. They went for long walks, Henry having little to spare for anything more expensive. It was during one such walk that he proposed to her. After some thought, she accepted, but asked to keep it a secret for a while.
’This is just between ourselves, Harry. I don’t want others to know. Not yet. We’re still young, and can’t get married for a long time anyway. You’re hardly in a position to support a wife, are you?’
It was true enough. Henry’s wages as a shop assistant were not generous. Because of this, he made her a simple but beautifully crafted ring of coiled silver wire, and presented it to her.
’It’s not a proper engagement ring,’ he said. ’Later, I’ll get you something better.’
’No, Harry. It’s lovely, and most unusual, but if I take it, I’ll want to wear it, and then people will start talking. You keep it for me.’
Puzzled, and not a little hurt, Henry placed the ring in a box in his workshop, not knowing of Mrs Foster’s statement to her daughter to the effect that if she wished to throw herself away on a third rate carpenter, she had better learn how to scrub floors. The ring was not alone. It joined a music box in the shape of a church, one of Henry’s many finely detailed models. He was good with wood and fine metal work, had a natural talent for carving and precise modelling. He had built a small workshop in a room of his house and worked there on any spare evening he had, making various objects in wood that proved to be readily saleable. The church had been a mistake. To be precise, the mistake lay in showing it to Catriona before it was finished, and offering it to her. She rejected it with a degree of mockery that he found distasteful, pointing out one fault or another, and refused to listen to his protestations that it was incomplete.
Not long afterwards, Catriona did what she had always threatened to do, and broke away from her parents, going to work in a town at the other end of the country. Henry wrote to her more than once, but received replies on a basis that could only be described as rare, until this final letter had arrived, breaking off their relationship for good. So that was it. He had tried to pretend that she loved him with a passion that equalled his own for her, knowing he was fooling nobody but himself. Nevertheless, he believed she had cared. Obviously not, since she could cast him aside like this.
*
Henry closed the cupboard door and considered what to do next. Idly, he picked up a piece of wood and fingered it. Nice grain there. Something could be made out of it. A half formed idea nudged at his mind and he sketched out a pattern on the surface of the wood, putting it to one side to allow time for the idea to crystallise. He picked up another piece, a square section of oak, and cut it into short lengths. Clamping each length firmly, he took a small plane and pared away the corners to make a rough octagonal shape. A lathe came next to round the pieces off in a pleasing taper, drilling a series of stepped holes, just the right size to accept a ball point refill. He worked steadily and quickly with the expertise that came from long hours of practise. Cut, plane, turn, drill, smooth, polish. The evening drew on. Midnight. A pile of oak pens lay in a box beside him, smelling pleasantly of honey from the beeswax polish he had used. They looked good. And they were easy to sell. He calculated rapidly. Yes, the evening’s work represented about thirty pounds clear profit, as much as he was paid for a month by his employer. Tomorrow he would take them into town and offer them to one of the shops. They would go, no problem.
Tomorrow was Saturday, still a working day, a busy one as a rule. That would take his mind off things, and he could spend the rest of the weekend in the workshop. He wanted to try his hand at making a woodwind instrument. There was a piece of rosewood he had been saving for the purpose. That would keep him occupied until the ache went away. Tired and unhappy, but satisfied with the thought that the day was not a total write off, he went to bed to dream of the girl he had lost.
Morning arrived, all too soon for the peace of his mind. It was a quiet day in the shop after all, wet weather having kept casual shoppers at home. Henry used the time between customers to plan out various projects he had in mind. His employer watched him and sighed. He was a good worker, too good for the likes of an obscure model shop. One day he would leave and set up on his own. At lunch time Henry went hungry in order to visit a stationer’s further along the High Street.
’More of those pens? Excellent. Yes, I’ll take them off your hands. We can get rid of these. They don’t exactly go like hot cakes, but they’re a steady seller.’
A customer came near, lifted one of the pens out of the box, and sniffed it.
’Honey?’ he said. ’I say, I like this. Are they for sale? I’ll take two. No, make that three. How much?’
’See what I mean, Henry? You should open a place of your own and take all the profit.’
’You know, I might just do that,’ said Henry. ‘I’m not sure if I’m anything of a salesman, but I rather think I’d like to try it.’
’Good work sells itself, you know, even nowadays. Still, it benefits me. You make some more of these pens, and I’ll sell them for you. If you have anything else in the novelty line, quality stuff that is, bring it along and I’ll see if I can use it. That’s a promise. In the meantime, lad, why don’t you get yourself educated? Take a course in running a business. You can do that nowadays, you know. There’s one offered at the College of Further Education. You could do a lot worse.’
Henry’s reputation spread, and slowly the money mounted. He was working long hours, a full day in the craft shop for Mr Diggens, and considerable periods of time at home in the evenings and weekends, time he considered well spent. Once he visited the Palais, but it wasn’t the same without Catriona, and he went home early, frustrated at the waste of an evening. Whenever he got stale or tired, he went for a long ride on his bicycle, a hundred miles or more, keeping himself fit, and sweeping the cobwebs from his brain.
*
’So there you are,’ said Henry. ’There’s nothing much of a story to it, when all is said and done. It’s a bit like a third rate Hollywood film. Boy finds girl. Boy loses girl. That’s it. Catriona isn’t to be blamed for what happened, or rather, for what didn’t happen. It was her choice, and she was entitled to make it.’ He hesitated. ‘Actually, I think her parents had some bearing on the matter as well, apart from the fact that she was ready to spread her wings anyway. They, her parents that is, didn’t quite approve of me, but then they didn’t quite approve of anything very much.’
‘Meaning?’ asked Lynn.
‘Well, shall we just say that they were the sort of people who would ask for the wine list in a MacDonalds. Not that we had a MacDonalds at the time, and not that they would ever have set foot inside one on the grounds of its being too low in taste. Anyway, I can’t say I’ve had a bad life. There have been compensations.’
’You never found anyone else?’ asked Lynn.
’No, I never did. I never really looked.’
‘Not even casually?’
Henry grinned as he worked out the possible implications of the sentence. He gave Lynn a sharp look, but her face exuded sheer innocence.
‘Not even casually. Not all men do, you know. I saw the results of casual encounters sometimes when I was on National Service, and I can’t say I was impressed. I suppose I’d expended all my emotions on Catriona, and there was nothing left for anyone else. And then I got involved in my work, and when the chance of going international cropped up, there seemed little time for anything except work.’ He laughed. ’International! It sounds rather bigger and better than it really was. Just the same, it paid, and paid very well indeed. My partners bought me out some years ago with a very generous settlement. We had started on information technology by that time, and they wanted to specialise in that. I was ready to give up, though. I can use a computer, but the business is a bit too cut throat for my liking. Too much for my abilities, anyway. It was an amicable parting of the ways. They became really, really rich, so rich they don’t have to worry about taxes, whereas I went into retirement, which is where I’ve been ever since, although admittedly, I don’t have to worry about where the next meal is coming from.’ He wrinkled his nose in pretended disgust. ’The corner supermarket for the most part. Prepacked and precooked. And by the taste of it, mostly predigested as well.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought that shopkeeping paid all that well,’ said Lynn. She still had only a vague idea of what it was that Henry had actually done in his working life.
‘Depends on the shop,’ said Henry with a grin. ‘I know what you mean, though, and you’re right. I was able to retire more years ago than I care to think about, but that was the result of something rather different. Do you remember my saying that I had had interests in bicycles at one time?’
Lynn nodded. ‘Yes. That was when I came to pick up my damaged bike.’
‘Well, I had a couple of patents on a different form of suspension for the machine. Ideas of my own. The market seemed to be ready for it, and sales took off very steadily indeed. It came at the time when the bike was making a bit of a comeback, and I got in on the ground floor, as the saying is. I sold the patents to a big manufacturing company, or rather my agent did, keeping what is called in the film industry a percentage of the gross. Not only bicycle suspensions. I also had interests in domestic machinery, cleaners and polishers amongst other things. You know the old saying of Ralph Waldo Emerson that if you make a better mousetrap, the world will beat a path to your door?’
‘I know the one,’ said Lynn. ‘Though I think he mentioned other things as well.’
‘Well, I never did make a better mousetrap, but there were several other inventions, or if I’m to be honest, improvements I came up with that were worth taking out patents for. That’s really where my money comes from, even today. Reluctant though I am to give credit to a colonial, I have to admit that Emerson’s statement has had an effect on my life, even though he is usually misquoted.’
‘And the repair shop, where you had my bike mended...?’ asked Lynn.
‘He was good enough to do the initial testing for me. For a while, he was the country’s sole agent. It did him a lot of good financially. That’s what I meant when I said he owed me a favour,’ explained Henry. ‘So you see, you don’t need to worry about whether I can afford it, whatever the it may be. I can.’ He chuckled. ‘If I ever do run short, I’ll come to you for a loan.’
‘You’ll have to wait until I start work, then,’ said Lynn. ‘I can’t even afford to buy books at the moment, remember?’