Moving On (2 page)

Karen Langton, looking extremely efficient in her trim black suit and plain white blouse, picked up her notepad and newly sharpened pencil and made her way into John Williams’s office.

It was her second week at Premium Printing and she was now becoming used to being summoned almost the moment she arrived at work to take down dictation by Mr Williams, a middle-aged balding man who was one of the directors.

Karen supposed that he must spend the previous evening thinking about all the things he had to do next day and started composing the letters on his way into work in the morning.

To her surprise, instead of leaning back in his black leather swivel chair, closing his eyes and beginning to dictate the moment she entered his office as he usually did, he was sorting through a pile of papers that almost completely covered the top of his desk.

‘A reporter from the
Liverpool Gazette
is coming in late this morning for a story on the history of Premium Printing. You’ll find all the details you need in these,’ he said as he gathered the papers up into a single pile.

‘Since your father was a director here you probably know most of the history of our company anyway,’ he added as he handed them to her.

‘You want me to put together a publicity story from these?’ Karen frowned.

‘That’s right. About two thousand words,’ he told her crisply.

‘Surely it’s up to the reporter to do that.’

He stared at her over the top of his gold-rimmed spectacles. ‘I want you to do it. I want the article to be accurate, not some trumped up journalistic make-believe. If we hand it to him ready to set then we should get what we want.’

‘Very well, but if he is a properly trained journalist then I’m afraid he will make changes because he will want to rewrite it in his own style,’ Karen warned.

Mr Williams dismissed her with a wave of his hand, completely ignoring what she had said.

Returning to her own office, Karen devoted the next couple of hours to writing and rewriting her piece; polishing it until she felt it was not only a hundred per cent accurate but ready to be published exactly as it stood.

Mr Williams didn’t even glance at it when she returned to his office and handed it to him.

‘You’ll find the reporter waiting in reception,’ he told her. ‘Give it to him and tell him not to change a word of it.’

‘How do you know it’s accurate?’ Karen asked. ‘You haven’t even looked at it.’

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. ‘When you’ve done that, come back with your notebook; I have several letters to dictate.’

Feeling a little miffed, Karen went down to the reception area. Waiting there was a tall handsome man in his mid-twenties casually dressed in grey flannels and a dark green tweed sports coat. He was drumming impatiently with his fingers on the counter.

She looked at him speculatively. He didn’t look like a reporter but there was no one else in sight. ‘Are you from the
Liverpool Gazette
?’ she asked.

‘Depends who is asking,’ he told her, his dark blue eyes twinkling.

‘Have you come to collect some copy?’ she asked primly, not responding to his teasing look.

‘Is that all you have for me?’ he asked, holding out his hand to take the typed sheets from her.

‘Make sure that it goes in exactly as it stands with no alterations whatsoever,’ she told him decisively.

He frowned. ‘I can’t promise you that; it’s bound to need some editing.’

‘No!’ She clung on to the papers. ‘It has to go in exactly as it is written. Those are Mr Williams’s instructions.’

‘Is he the chap I spoke to on the phone?’

‘Yes. He’s one of the directors here and his word is law.’

‘So did he write this copy?’

‘No, I did.’

‘You did.’ His blue eyes gleamed. ‘Well, that certainly makes all the difference. If you did it Miss …?’ He paused and looked at her enquiringly.

‘Langton, Karen Langton.’

‘Thank you, Miss Langton.’ He reached out and took the typed sheets from her hand. “I’m sure it will be perfect and I’ll see it is printed just as it stands,’ he told her with a mocking little bow that brought a flush to her cheeks.

‘Would you like to see an advanced copy so that you can check that I have kept my word?’ he asked, turning to look at her as he headed for the door.

‘That might be a good idea,’ she countered. ‘I was always told never to trust a newspaper reporter.’

‘Touché! Well, in that case you’d better meet me tomorrow night at seven o’clock at the Odeon restaurant and check it over while you have dinner with me.’

He was gone before she could answer, and Karen went back up to her office with a half-smile on her face. He certainly had a nerve, she thought, wondering whether she ought to keep the date since he had not even told her his name.

She was still thinking about him as she collected her notebook and a couple of well-sharpened pencils and returned to Mr Williams’s office.

For the next hour she was forced to concentrate on what he was dictating and put everything else out of her mind.

‘Have you ever thought of using a dictating machine, Mr Williams?’ she asked when finally she closed her notebook.

‘I beg your pardon, Miss Langton?’

The thought had been in her mind for days but she inwardly choked as she heard herself saying it out loud and saw the startled look on his face. In many ways Premium Printing favoured old-fashioned methods and stuck to the traditional ways of running a business.

‘You’ve only been here five minutes and already you’re trying to change the way we do things,’ he said tetchily.

‘I was thinking that it would be time-saving and more economical,’ Karen told him, her chin jutting defensively.

‘Indeed! Well it might be more economical and certainly time-saving if you returned to your office and typed up the letters I have given you rather than sitting here debating about something that won’t happen.’

Dismissed, her cheeks burning, Karen went back to her desk and tried to concentrate on what she had to do but Mr Williams’s reaction infuriated her. He hadn’t even asked her for details about how it might improve things, she thought rebelliously.

He certainly didn’t have the company at heart; he hadn’t even checked what she had written about its history, she thought, as she finished typing the letters, put them in a folder and returned them to his desk for signature.

She wondered if he would even bother to read it when it was finally in the newspaper. At least she would have prior knowledge that it was word perfect and unchanged, she thought, as she remembered the reporter’s promise to let her see it before the paper went to press.

She switched her thoughts from work to what she would wear for her dinner date at the Odeon restaurant. She had never been there but she knew it was quite posh and she didn’t really have anything in her wardrobe sophisticated enough for such a place.

Also, she still had to tell her gran where she was going. She was bound to want to know more about the young man she was going with, and Karen realized that she still didn’t even know his name.

There was only one way to find out, she decided. She’d telephone the
Liverpool Gazette
and ask if she could speak to the reporter who had been sent to collect the material from them. She wouldn’t give her own name, simply say she was Mr Williams’s secretary.

Her ruse worked. The reporter’s name she was told was Jimmy Martin.

‘He’s not here at the moment so shall I ask him to telephone you when he comes in?’ the girl on the switchboard asked.

‘No, that won’t be necessary,’ Karen told her, and she rang off quickly before the girl could ask any more questions. She hoped that the girl wouldn’t tell Jimmy that someone from Premium Printing had phoned although even if she did he had no proof that it was her.

As Karen feared, Jenny was far from happy at the thought of her going out to dinner with a stranger.

‘I really think it is irresponsible of Mr Williams to expect you to do something like that when you are so new to the job,’ she remonstrated. ‘Make sure you get a taxi to bring you home and charge it up to Premium Printing. It’s not safe for a young girl to be on her own in Liverpool late in the evening – and certainly not when you have to get the ferry home. Perhaps I ought to come over and meet you.’

‘Gran! I’m eighteen and I’m a working girl now. I can take care of myself, so don’t worry.’

‘I wouldn’t worry if I knew this young man you are meeting there. Why on earth couldn’t he bring the paper to the office; surely that would be a far more professional way to behave.’

‘I think he thought he was doing me a favour by asking me out for a meal,’ Karen said, her cheeks flushing slightly. ‘Anyway, there’s no need to worry, he wouldn’t be working for the
Liverpool Gazette
if he wasn’t respectable.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ Jenny said worriedly.

‘I’ll be all right. Far more important is what am I going to wear?’

They spent the next half hour deciding. In the end Karen settled for a plain green dress that reflected the green of her eyes. Jenny offered to loan her the double row of pearls she only wore on special occasions.

‘I’m not sure they will look right on me,’ Karen murmured, wrinkling her nose in disdain as she held them up against the dress. ‘I was wondering if I could borrow your green pendant; that would really look stunning.’

‘My pendant? Surely you don’t mean the one that your father bought me! That’s a real emerald and I would be heartbroken if you lost it.’

‘Please, Gran, it is a special occasion,’ Karen begged. ‘I promise I’ll take great care of it.’

Jenny went into her own bedroom and then brought back the pendant. She fastened it around Karen’s neck and stood back, frowning.

Karen drew in her breath as she stared at her reflection. ‘It really is beautiful, Gran.’

‘Well make sure you take care of it, it means a great deal to me and I couldn’t bear to lose it,’ Jenny said smiling.

‘It will be like having you there beside me all evening to make sure I behave myself,’ Karen teased as she leaned forward and kissed her grandmother on the cheek.

Jenny couldn’t settle. She picked up her knitting, did a few stitches and then put it down again. She turned on the TV, watched for five minutes or so then switched it off and turned on the radio. That was even worse. She switched that off, got up and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on, hoping that perhaps a cup of tea would calm her jangling nerves.

She knew that it was ridiculous to feel so apprehensive simply because Karen had gone out to dinner at the Odeon restaurant with someone called Jimmy Martin, but she couldn’t help it. She had never met him and she suspected that he might be a good deal older than Karen.

What was more, as he was a newspaper reporter, she imagined him as somebody rather brash; a man of the world. What on earth was he doing taking a young girl like Karen out to dinner? In her eyes it boded no good.

Frankly, she didn’t trust his motives and, even though she looked older than eighteen, Karen was not very worldly wise, especially when it came to men. She was friendly with quite a number of boys who had been at college with her, or played tennis with her, but she had never had a serious boyfriend.

This was her first date and Jenny wished it was with one of the boys from the tennis club, someone she had met and knew.

The evening seemed endless. Finally, Jenny put on a coat and walked to the end of the garden. She stood there looking out across the Mersey to where she could see the lights of Liverpool twinkling against an inky black sky, inwardly praying that Karen was safe and that she would be home very soon.

Karen had jokingly said that if she could borrow the emerald pendant to wear that evening then it would be like having Jenny standing by her side keeping an eye on her; now Jenny hoped she still felt that way and that the pendant really was acting like a talisman, keeping her safe.

Karen Langton was enjoying herself. The Odeon restaurant was packed with couples and groups of three or four. They were all engrossed in each other’s company and the delectable food and delicious wines being served there.

Jimmy had secured a table for two tucked away in a far corner of the room. From where she was sitting Karen could see all that was going on and revel in the luxurious surroundings.

She’d been so relieved to find that Jimmy was waiting outside when she’d arrived. He was smartly dressed in a dark grey suit, and a pale blue shirt set off by a blue and grey striped tie. The moment she saw him all the nervousness she had felt about the evening vanished.

‘Wow! Do you look stunning,’ he greeted her. ‘Blondes should always wear green, especially when they have such lovely green eyes as you have.’

‘You scrub up well, too,’ she told him with a wide smile as he took her arm and guided her into the building.

The restaurant impressed her. It had seemed to be vast when they were led into the dining room. When they had taken their seats and she’d regained her composure she realized that one wall consisted entirely of mirror glass from ground to ceiling and had the effect of doubling the size of the room.

She left the ordering of the meal to Jimmy because she had no idea what to choose. She’d simply said she liked fish and chicken best and left it to him to do the rest. The result was the most wonderful food and wine she had ever tasted.

He chose a starter of deep fried Brie with cranberry jelly and salad and she found it delicious.

On her way over on the ferryboat Karen had been wondering what they would talk about. As a reporter he probably knew all that was going on and she was not sure that she would be able to keep up with him. The last thing she wanted him to think was that because she was younger than him and only just out of college, that meant she was ignorant of what went on in the world.

After a few false starts, however, she found talking to him was easy. He seemed to be really interested in why she was working for Premium Printing.

‘I would have thought that someone as smart and pretty as you would have gone in for something more glamorous than being a secretary,’ Jimmy commented.

‘Really?’ Karen was startled; she wondered if he was making fun of her or simply trying to make conversation and put her at her ease.

‘My father was a director there and I more or less simply walked into the job when I left college,’ she explained, as the waitress collected their plates after their first course and they waited for the main dish to be served.

‘Ah, that accounts for it. You see I couldn’t understand why with your looks and figure you weren’t working as a model or something to do with fashion.’

Karen smiled at his flattery. Then, as they tucked into the pan-fried smoked haddock topped with a poached egg on a bed of delicately flavoured mash potatoes, she found herself confiding in him. She began telling him about her mother and the publicity job she’d had and how she hoped that one day she would be able to follow in her mother’s footsteps.

Jimmy nodded. ‘Publicity! That’s more like it. You’d make a wonderful press officer in the fashion or travel industry. I’ll keep an ear to the ground and let you know if I hear of anything going. It’s surprising how in my job you get to know about these things in advance of them becoming general knowledge or the position being advertised,’ he told her.

She felt overwhelmed by his interest in her future. Nervously she sipped her glass of white wine. It was deliciously cool and smooth and she felt her confidence returning as she took another sip and then another.

‘You certainly don’t want to spend the rest of your life cooped up in an office taking dictation from some pot-bellied, grey-haired old man,’ he told her with a grin.

‘It’s not quite that bad.’ Karen smiled, wondering what Mr Williams would think of such an unflattering description.

‘You want to be out in the world seeing the action; travelling perhaps.’ He studied her thoughtfully. ‘If you worked for one of the big shipping companies as a press officer you would probably get the chance of worldwide travel,’ he pointed out.

Karen’s green eyes widened in appreciation. There was nothing she’d like more but she couldn’t see her gran being very happy about her having a job like that.

Rather reluctantly she explained the situation to Jimmy and felt as if her high hopes were draining away as he pursed his mouth in a silent whistle and shook his head.

‘That will never do,’ he said solemnly. ‘What you need to do is to get right away from granny and find a flat of your own.’

‘One day perhaps,’ she said dreamily. ‘I couldn’t afford to do that at the moment. In three years’ time, when I’m twenty-one I will inherit the money my father left me, but until then I am dependent on my grandmother to put a roof over my head.’

Jimmy shook his head. ‘That’s not necessarily true. If you had the right job you would be able to afford to share right now. Think of the independence that would give you. I bet your grandmother wanted to know exactly where you were going tonight and that she will be waiting up for you to come home.’

‘Yes, you’re right about that. She wasn’t at all happy,’ Karen admitted, her colour rising.

‘I bet she wasn’t! Especially when you said you were going out with someone she has never met.’

Karen bit her lip and said nothing. It was too near the truth for her to want to comment. Instead she concentrated all her attention on the chocolate brownie served with cream and ice cream that he had ordered as their dessert.

‘You really do need to get out from under your grandmother’s thumb as soon as you can,’ Jimmy commented as their coffee was served.

‘Think about it, Karen,’ he urged when she remained silent. ‘As I said, you could always share with someone to start with and see how things went. You could even go back home to Granny if you weren’t happy,’ he added with a reassuring smile.

Karen nodded thoughtfully, then, suddenly aware that they had been talking for a very long time, she looked at her watch and was shocked to see the time.

‘I must be going,’ she gasped. ‘I had no idea it was so late.’

‘Granny will be cross?’ Jimmy asked, raising his eyebrows.

‘Well, she’ll be concerned.’

‘I understand.’ Without another word he called for the bill, settled it, collected their coats and helped her into hers.

‘How do I get hold of a taxi?’ she asked. ‘Will someone from here phone for one if I ask them?’

‘Taxi. What on earth do you want a taxi for? It will be terribly expensive from here to Wallasey at this time of night.’

‘I know, but I promised Gran I would get one and not travel home on the ferry if it was late.’

Jimmy smiled. ‘You’ll be quite safe. I’ll be there with you.’

‘You can’t come all the way over to Wallasey and then back again,’ Karen protested.

‘I certainly have no intention of letting you go home on your own,’ he said firmly. ‘Granny would never forgive me,’ he added in a mocking tone.

Karen bit her lip and said nothing. She knew he was teasing her but it made her feel childish and she didn’t like it.

They talked of general matters as they walked to the Pier Head and on the rest of the journey home he told her something about himself and what his job at the
Liverpool Gazette
entailed.

Gradually, Karen regained her composure and once again she found herself enjoying Jimmy Martin’s company.

When they reached Seacombe she told him there really was no need for him to come any further. She would take a bus to Wallasey Village and from there it was only a couple of minutes’ walk to Warren Point.

Jimmy wouldn’t hear of it. ‘I certainly don’t intend to abandon you half way home; I’ll take you to your door,’ he insisted.

Ten minutes later as they walked up the path to her home she wondered if perhaps she should invite him in and introduce him to her gran.

Jimmy forestalled her. When they reached the front door he said goodnight, gave her a fleeting kiss on her cheek, and turned and walked away before she even had time to thank him for a wonderful evening.