YOUTHTAKESTHE HELM

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 297, 16 December 1935, Page 19

YOUTHTAKESTHE HELM

BY PHYLLIS HAMBLEDON

CHAPTER Vlll.—(Continued.) She looked at him and almost loved him. He was so nice—so clean. He'd been her friend so long, somebody she could trust, a sort of haven of rest. Oh, the things that had happened in the last 24 hours! Her head was confused from the pres3 of them. She lifted up her face and kissed him frankly, sweetly. Then she pushed him away gently and stood np again. "Eddie, don't let's talk of it until I've done the business course. Something, I don't know what, has happened to me. I've lost the way. I've got to begin again. I've got to find myself. Oh, I know that's very lurid and higlifalutin. but I believe it's true, all the same. Micky, he's found himself, you see. He's gone down to bedrock. Well, I want to do that, too, to find the real Lorraine, the Lorraine under all that silliness. And I've an idea when I do find her that she may be rather nice."

"The present Lorraine is quite nice enough for me," said Eddie. He meant it. He was filled with affection and compassion for her. Now he understood last night's wild recklessness and abandon. She had had this shock, but she was recovering gallantly. There had been good stuff in Lorraine, always. It had only been overlaid with foolishness. He went away early, seeing she was all in. But the memory of that kiss remained with him all that evening. But Lorraine stayed alone, looking into the future, a future devoid of fripperies. But a future with hope in it, nevertheless. I'm going to take the difficult way, she thought, as Micky did. As Micky had done. There was a strange comfort in that thought for her. Chapter ix. Miss Graham, head of the Frensham Business College and Commercial School, sat at her desk. The hard August sunshine fell on her wrinkled face. From the room next door came the clatter of a dozen typewriters. She was speaking. "Well, Miss Carinichael, you have passed your shorthand and typing tests; you are now qualified to take a position, but during the holiday season vacancies are not easy to come by."

"I wouldn't care what sort of a job it was,", said Lorraine Carmicliael. "I want to get to work at once."

"You've worked very hard already," said Miss Graham. "Don't you think it would be better to take a holiday yourself? There will be plenty of posts going again in September."

"I want one now," Lorraine repeated. The principal looked at this girl in the long green overall. She couldn't quite make her out. She had come to her a pretty drcssed-up bit of a thing. She had taken her fees, and had enrolled her as a student, certain that she would soon tire of the work, would skimp her classes, want afternoons off, arrive late and leave early. She had had experience of tlio young society girl before. But Miss Carmicliael had not behaved in the least as she had expected. She had never been late, she had stayed overtime, she had clung to her typewriter with a grim determination. She had overworked, in fact. She was pale and thin, there were circles under her eyeS. "Well, there's something here that might suit you," said Miss Graham, turning over her correspondence. "We had the particulars of the post this morning. It is only temporary, and will he over by the middle of October. It would give you country air, at any rate—and yon look as if you needed it. The Wickham Fruit Farm and Market Garden." "Tho Wickham Fruit Farm?" "Yes, do you know it?" There had been a certain tone in Lorraine's voice. "Something. I've heard of it." "Well, the manager, this Mr.—what-is-his-name?—Mr. Fanshawe, has applied for a shorthand typist. Ho wants her over tho fruit-packing season. The salary is not large—3s/ weekly, and she would have to make herself useful in other ways. Ho says there is suitable lodging in tho village. You might go down for an interview perhaps. There aro Green Line buses." "I'll go to-day," said Lorraine. "Thank you very much, Miss Graham." Could anything be queerer, she thought, with a .sense of fatality, as she left the office. Her first job to be with Micky 011 her own fruit farm! She had already, by the way, received a quarterly dividend from it, duly handed over to her by Eddie. Returning to the hostel where she was staying, she had a feeling as if somehow destiny was taking a hand in the planning out of her future. She wondered if she should tell Eddie what had happened; decided not to. It would be time enough if she got the post.

She and Eddie had seen a good deal of each other. Thev had kept up the old relationship. He' had taken her out and they had done things together. Eddie had grown up lately. After she had lost her money he had been of the greatest possible help in sub-letting the flat, in selling the car, in finding a suitable ladj'like position for poor Lambkin. Though Lorraine had refused to be properly engaged to him, there was a sort of understanding between them. He always kissed her good night, for instance. He had a distinct place in her life. She could not easily have done without him.

That afternoon she stepped out of the Green Line bus, and made her way along the hot, dusty road. She inquired at the gate of the Wickham Fruit Farm for Mr. Fanshawe. She gave no name, but said she had come from the Frensham Business College. She was told to wait in a bleak, bare office, with horticulturists' calendars on the walls, and an antiquated typewriter on a desk in the corner. She looked out on to the denuded strawberry beds, hot and silent under the sun, to the loganberry bushes and the orchard beyond. She saw Micky come up from the packing room, light his cigarette before he crossed the yard, and opened the 'office door. "Good afternoon. You're from the— Lorraine!" She stood up. "Good afternoon, sir." "I didn't know —I thought —I was expecting a shorthand typist." "That's what I am, sir. I have my certificates here." | "Good Lord, Lorraine, is this another joke?" | "No. I've got to have a job of some kind. Your vacancy came in this morning. I'm applying. Typing 70. Shorthand 120." '•'Please sit down." Micky eat down himself, frowning. Ho did "not look at Lorraine. He did not like this at all. He knew, of course, that i she had lost her money. Eddie had told

him so. He often heard of Lorraine from Eddie, who obviously saw quite a lot of her. "Come over all serious," Eddie had said, half-serious himself, and halfjoking. "Wants to get some sort of secretarial training. Don't know how long it will last. . . ." Well, it had lasted as long as this at any rate. She was qualified for her job. He looked at the papers she had handed him. He looked at her, so demure, so quiet, so professional-looking in cool, blue linen. Shook his head. "It can't be done," he said. "I don't approve of employers having friends in the office." "I should not forget my position, sir," said Lorraine. "Oh, that's absurd! And please don't call me sir. Besides the work would be too strenuous for you. I tell you, lam a business man. I use my staff pretty hard. You'd have a lot to do, a lot to see to. It isn't only the ofßce work. I might even want you to give me a hand with the more specialised packing for the luxury trade. And we're doing a sideline in flowers to passing motorists. You would have to attend to that." "I'd be willing to do anything you told me to do," said Lorraine. "As I said, I have to get a job." He looked at her with more attention. It seemed incredible. It seemed all wrong. Lorraine, anxious for 35/ a week, almost begging for it; Lorraine, who had been a petted child of fortune, with almost everything money could givo her.

"The salary's not very high," he said. "You'd probably got something better in London." "Board and lodging would be more expensive in London," said Lorraine. "You'd have to live in a cottage," said Micky. "I've always wanted to live in a cottage," said Lorraine. "You would be the same, exactly the same, as any other of the staff. You wouldn't have any more consideration because you have had a better education than they have." "I've said that I didn't want any more consideration," said Lorraine. Her voice was firm, her eyes unwavering. Micky decided. "Then I'll engage you. When can you start your duties. On Monday?" "Yes, sir." "Mrs. Taylor at 2, Railway Cottages, will take you in. You'd better call and make arrangements with her. I'll expect you then." "Thank yQU very much, sir," said Lorraine. "Didn't I tell you not to call me sir?" "I thought you expected me to behave like the rest of the staff, sir," said Lorraine. Micky said nothing, but frowned heavily. Lorraine departed. But outside, her lips broke into a smile. She had got the job, she had got it. On her own fruit farm. She felt a glowing sense of possession. She did not pause to look into the further future. She only saw the next three months ahead. Working for Micky, being with him, hearing his voice, seeing his eyes rest upon her. Serving him, who, though ho did not know it, was serving her, growing the fruit that was at present her only source of income. A piquant situation. She considered it happily all the way back to London. Micky sat on his desk, his hand over his eyes. He, too, was remembering. Lorraine in want of a job; had it not been for that, he would never have accepted her application. For he wanted her still, desperately, furiously. It had taken all his control to keep his hands away from her, his words cold, and his eyes dispassionate.

But as ho sat there, he was remembering. Something which Eddie had let fall when he had said that Lorraine had come over all serious, that he hadn't known how long it would last. He had continued: "You see, when her training is finished, I'm hoping very much that she'll marrv me."

Eddie, whom Beryl had said a year ago was the ideal husband for Lorraine, had said that. Eddie to whom Micky owed, as ho thought, his job 011 the fruit farm; who when he had been ill, had taken him in and tended him. and to whom ho meant to be always grateful. And so, since Eddie had said that: "It's hands off, Micky, my lad," Micky told himself grimly. * * ♦ » It was 10 days later when Eddie heard what had happened. He had a letter from Lorraine. "So here I am installed on my own fruit farm. The least important person on it, saying 'Yes, sir,'' 'No sir,' to the manager thereof. Not that he likes it, but I'm being strictly formal. It's fun watching everything. It seems to mo to ho prospering and prospering. Amusing, Eddie, but the work's hard too. Micky spares nobody. Wo all have to earn our wages, and yet by some extraordinary chance he still manages to be immensely popular. My nice landlady tells me that the workpeople are devoted to him. Why, I wonder ? "My duties are varied, but I enjoy them. At crack of dawn, I'm up, packing the most luscious of the nectarines and peaches. After breakfast I attend to correspondence, and Micky dictates to me. In the afternoon I am 011 duty for the cutting of flowers for chance motorists. I snip off dead leaves and potter a bit in the greenhouses. In the

evenirtg I help with the watering. At eight I'm tlcatl beat and I flop into bed before it's properly dark. How's that for the simple life, and " Eddie put down the letter. Something funny here, something he did not understand. His affection for Lorraine had increased in the last few months. At the present moment he wanted nothing so much as to marry her. But here she was, stenographer to a man to whom for four short days she had been engaged. He didn't like it. He had believed and still believed that the Micky affair was over. Eddie's mind worked on simple lines. Hadn't Lorraine herself told him that she had quite recovered? Hadn't she been furiously rude to Micky last time they had met? Hadn't Micky been equally rude to her ? True, she had certainly bought the fruit farm in order to give him a job, but hadn't she herself said she'd done it to ease her conscience, because she had been responsible for Micky leaving Freyne and being one of the unemployed? Besides, the fruit farm had been no altruistic affair, but an excellent investment, with a good possibility of increasing profits.

No, it was all right her working for Micky, of course. Just one of those coincidences which occasionally occur. Nevertheless he decided to go down and see for himself. As it happened, it fitted in quite well with his plans. Tomorrow it was Friday, and Beryl was staying at a. Brighton Hotel, and had written rather a plaintive note, asking him to join her here. He was sorry for Beryl; she was a rudderless ship at present,'though she managed usually to have some man or other in tow to take lier about and so on. But there was something rather haggard about her beauty, rather strident about her laughter. (To be continued daily.)