One Rainy Day

by Joan Jonker

Genres: Family Life; Siblings; Friendship; World War II; Sagas

Synopsis

For one young girl, a walk in the rain will change her life forever... One Rainy Day is an unforgettable saga of warmth and humour from hugely popular author, Joan Jonker. Perfect for fans of Dilly Court and Katie Flynn. Poppy Meadows has a face of rare beauty. Like most other nineteen-year-olds, she enjoys life. And, oh, how she loves to dance! The only blot on her happiness is her dreadful boss in the office where she works... One rainy day, Poppy is delivering a letter when she fails to notice two people approaching and is knocked to the ground. The couple are full of apologies but Poppy brushes aside the young man's offer to replace her ruined raincoat. As she walks away with her head held high, Andrew Wilkie-Brook says to his sister Charlotte, 'I wish she'd let me help, but she wouldn't listen to me.' Someone is listening, however, and her name is Fate... What readers are saying about One Rainy Day : 'A wonderfully delightful story by Joan Jonker, who as always satisfies her readers. I thoroughly enjoyed the humour, friendship and romance in the story. Such an enjoyable read which was difficult to put down. I just loved to cuddle up with such a super book ' 'This is a most delightful book; even for romantic males! It had everything. Sorrow and laughter, hatred and love, rich and poor. I would have liked to have read a follow-up to discover what happened next'

Release date: February 2, 2012

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 484

Sample

It was a pleasant morning when the young man parked his car in the reserved bay at Exchange Station. There was a nip in the air, though, as the wind blew in from across the Mersey, and after locking the car door he slipped the keys into his pocket and set off at a brisk rate towards Castle Street.

Many a female head turned in his direction, for he cut a fine figure: six foot two in height, well built, with jet-black hair and eyebrows, deep brown eyes and an attractive dimple in his chin. He oozed confidence, in his well-cut overcoat, soft kid gloves and handmade shoes of the finest leather. If he had known the thoughts running through the heads of people passing by, he would have been surprised, for since he had been born into one of the wealthiest families in Liverpool confidence came naturally to Andrew Wilkie-Brook, as did wearing clothes made by bespoke tailors, and shoes made by craftsmen.

However, Andrew’s mind was on none of these things as he reached the building that housed his father’s import and export business, for today was his twenty-fifth birthday and there was much to look forward to. His mother had planned a lavish dinner party for twenty friends from their social circle, and knowing how fussy his mother was about detail he was sure the party would be a huge success. But there was an engagement he was looking forward to far more than the party, and that was lunch with his father at the club. It was a business lunch, his father had said, that just happened to fall on his birthday. And Andrew was chuckling as he took the stone steps two at a time. He loved his father dearly, and respected him, for when he’d asked if he could leave university when he was twenty-one to join the family business his father had brushed aside his wife’s wailing over what their friends would say about their son’s taking up a lowly position in an office. He had agreed to Andrew’s joining the firm, as long as he was willing to accept the terms. That meant starting on the lowest rung of the ladder, so he could learn every aspect of the business from top to bottom. This had brought more tears and protests from his mother, but once again George Wilkie-Brook ignored her pleas. Instead he’d slapped his son on the back and wished him well. And because of his admiration and love for his father, Andrew had spent the last four years learning as much as he could about the business which had been in the family for almost eighty years. And as he learned, his father rewarded him, each year, by promoting him to a higher position. To his mother’s dismay, he had cut down drastically on his social life for he was determined to fulfil the promises he’d made to his father. And now because of his diligence, Andrew had taken over the offices on the first floor of the building, and was responsible for the running of an important section of the business. With the help of his own private secretary, a typist and a clerk, his department ran like clockwork, and he had reason to be proud of his success.

So he was in high spirits when he climbed the stairs and knocked on his secretary’s door. ‘Good morning, Mrs Stamford. I hope you are well this fine day?’

Wendy Stamford looked up from the pile of correspondence in front of her and smiled. ‘Good morning, Mr Andrew. And may I wish you a very happy birthday.’

‘Thank you. I’m meeting my father at the club for lunch, so I’ll have to look sharp.’

‘I’ve been through the post, Mr Andrew, and I’ve sorted the letters in order of priority, so we should finish in plenty of time. I’ll bring it in to you, then while you’re looking through I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.’

‘That’s very kind of you, Mrs Stamford, and reminds me why you are such a very good secretary.’

‘Flattery will get you an arrowroot biscuit to have with your tea.’ Wendy was very fond of her boss, for he was easy to get along with, very friendly, and not at all snobby. And he had a sense of humour. ‘In fact, seeing as it’s your birthday, I’ll make that two biscuits.’

‘I know this sounds forward of me, Mrs Stamford, but seeing as it is my birthday, could the biscuits and tea be stretched to include Miss Kennedy and Miss Williams? I would feel mean leaving them out. They have worked well for me over the past few years, and I’d like to show my appreciation.’ Andrew hung his coat on the coat stand in his office, then turned a bashful face to his secretary. ‘Tea and biscuits don’t sound very appreciative, do they? It makes me sound like Scrooge.’ He took a wallet from his inside pocket and removed a white five-pound note. ‘Would Miss Kennedy go on an errand, d’you think? I’m having lunch with Father, who has a palate for good food and wine. And I wouldn’t enjoy my meal, knowing my faithful staff were having a measly biscuit.’ He handed her the five-pound note. ‘Ask Miss Kennedy if she would go to Cooper’s and order a selection of sandwiches and cakes to be delivered here at one o’clock. I would expect no change, so there should be sufficient to include the staff downstairs. If you turn two desks into a table, you could enjoy a nice, friendly lunch.’ He looked quite boyish when he grinned. ‘And my conscience will be clear.’

‘You really don’t need to do that, Mr Andrew, but I’m not going to talk you out of it, because I know the staff would be delighted to celebrate your birthday.’ Wendy carried the post into his office and placed it, neatly stacked, on top of his desk in front of his brown leather swivel chair. ‘I’ll see Miss Kennedy and Miss Williams, and tell them that as soon as one of them has ten minutes to spare, she’s to go to Cooper’s with the order. Then I’ll make our tea and we can get down to business.’

Before Andrew had joined the family firm, Wendy had been working as private secretary to George Wilkie-Brook for twelve years. Then, because of her knowledge and experience, Mr George had asked if she would do him a great favour and allow him to transfer her to his son’s new offices, so she could help Andrew find his feet. And she had never regretted agreeing. She knew the job inside out, and was proud at how quickly Andrew had taken in everything she’d been able to teach him. She was forty years of age now, but didn’t look it, with a trim figure, mousy-coloured curly hair, a good dress sense and a face that liked to smile. It was twenty years since she’d married her boyfriend, Stan, and they were as much in love now as they had been on their wedding day. The only disappointment in their lives was that they hadn’t been blessed with children. They were both eager for a baby, but as the years passed they had gradually given up hope. As Wendy said, it was God’s will, and there was little they could do about it. She certainly wasn’t going to become twisted and bitter. They had each other, so they were lucky.

Andrew raised his eyes from the letter he was reading when his secretary came through the door carrying a tray with two cups of tea on, a huge smile on her face. ‘Mr Andrew, your generosity has been very well received by Miss Williams and Miss Kennedy. I could say they were delighted, but that would be an understatement. I think a better word to describe the expression on their faces is delirious.’ Wendy placed a cup and saucer beside him, a safe distance from the correspondence in case of an accident. ‘I don’t think they would like me to repeat this, so don’t let the cat out of the bag for they would be embarrassed. Miss Williams said you are now next to Cary Grant on her list of favourite men, and Miss Kennedy has you second to Randolph Scott.’

Andrew chortled. ‘Oh, I say, compliments like that are likely to give me a big head.’ With a huge grin on his face which made him look a lot younger than his twenty-five years, he looked across the desk. ‘Well, come on, Mrs Stamford, who am I next to on your list of favourite film stars?’

‘I’m too old for that, Mr Andrew. I’m past the swooning stage. And unless we keep our mind on the work ahead of us, you’re going to be late for your meeting with Mr George.’

Andrew squared his shoulders and picked up the letter on top of the pile. ‘Quite right, too! How lucky I am to have a conscientious secretary who keeps my shoulder to the wheel. Off we go, and there’ll be no break now until we’ve finished. So, pencil poised, and I’ll dictate to your speed.’

For the next half-hour, there was silence in the room except for Andrew’s voice, and the occasional rustle as his secretary turned over a page on her notebook. They were halfway through the letters when the phone rang in Wendy’s next-door office, and Andrew tutted in exasperation. ‘Get rid of them quickly, Mrs Stamford. If it’s me they’re after, tell them I’ve slipped out of the office on business.’

With her notebook gripped in her hand, Wendy left the office, only to be back within a few seconds. ‘It’s your mother, Mr Andrew, and she said it’s important. If you pick your phone up, I’ll replace mine and stay in my office until you call me.’

Andrew’s eyes went to the ceiling. He did wish his mother wouldn’t ring him at the office so often. He wouldn’t mind if there was a reason for her calls, but mostly she rang out of boredom. But she shouldn’t be bored today, not when there was so much to organize for the dinner party. He took a deep breath before lifting the receiver. ‘Yes, Mother, did you wish to speak to me?’

Harriet Wilkie-Brook had a very cultured voice. Born into a wealthy family, and married to a wealthy husband, she knew very little about what went on in the world. She was, in fact, remote from reality – which would have been apparent to anyone if they’d been in a position to hear the conversation between mother and son. ‘It’s about the flowers, darling. The order arrived half an hour ago, and they really are lovely. But I’m a little concerned that I may have under-ordered. Perhaps you could ring the florist for me, and ask them to send a further two dozen roses. A mixture of pink and deep red.’

Andrew forced himself to take a deep breath before saying, ‘Mother, I am in the middle of dictating to Mrs Stamford, and I really don’t have the time. Could Charlotte not ring the shop for you?’ Charlotte was his nineteen-year-old sister, who had never worked a day in her life, and was spoiled by both parents. ‘I’m sure she’s capable of ordering flowers over the telephone.’

‘This is a very busy day for Charlotte.’ Harriet Wilkie-Brook’s tone said she was not best pleased. She wasn’t used to refusals. ‘This is very thoughtless of you, Andrew. You should understand that your sister had, and still has, many things to do. This morning she had an appointment at the hairdresser’s, then a fitting for shoes, next a visit to the manicurist’s to have her nails cut and polished. Right now she is in town with one of her friends, picking up the dress she’s had made for the party tonight.’ Then Andrew’s mother became exasperated at having to make excuses. ‘This is most unkind of you, Andrew, and it is no way to talk to your mother. I’m sure your father will be horrified when I tell him you refused to do me a tiny favour.’

‘Father understands that I am very busy this morning, Mother, because I have to get through a day’s work in half a day. You see, I’m meeting him for lunch at the club. It’s a business lunch. I’ll tell him you phoned, and about your request. And I’ll explain that as I was inundated with work I asked my secretary to ring the florists and order the two dozen roses you requested for tonight. Now, as your mind should be at rest, am I allowed to return to the many letters that need my attention?’

There was silence for a few seconds, then in a coaxing voice Harriet said, ‘There is one little thing, my darling, but I’m quite sure it will meet with your approval. Annabel was on the telephone earlier, and I promised her you would pick her up in your car at seven fifteen.’

Andrew’s brows were drawn together in puzzlement. ‘But I was under the impression Mr and Mrs Barford had accepted the invitation to the party?’

‘Yes, of course they have. They have never turned down an invitation to one of our dinners. Actually they were the first to reply.’

‘Then surely Annabel can accompany them in their car? She always has before, and I would have thought it was obvious that she should do so now! It would be ridiculous for the parents to arrive in their car, then their daughter to arrive in another.’

‘The poor girl would be so disappointed if you refused, Andrew. She was delighted when I said I would ask, for she really is very fond of you. And she is such a sweet thing, so pretty and very charming.’

‘Mother, under no circumstances will I pick Annabel up, and I’m surprised at your even suggesting it. She is pretty, and charming, as you say, but she is also only nineteen years of age. And a very young nineteen at that. Her parents treat her like a child, and they’ve never allowed her to grow up, which I find very sad. For while she is always happy and pleasant, she is very innocent. Her conversation goes no further than clothes, perfume, and nights at the theatre. I know you had hopes for Annabel and me, and perhaps I should have spoken sooner, but it would never work, Mother, so would you please not give her any encouragement. I like her as a friend, I am fond of her as a friend, but it ends there.’

‘You are twenty-five today, Andrew, and have never had a proper girlfriend. Heaven knows there are enough eligible females around who have set their sights on you over the years, but you show no interest. And I still say you could do a lot worse than Annabel. She comes from good stock, and she would be faithful, for she adores you.’

‘Mother, when I fall in love it will be with a girl who is right for me. It hasn’t happened yet, but one day she will come along. I’m prepared to wait for that day.’ Andrew could feel a headache coming on, and rubbed his forehead. ‘Mother, I really must go now, I have so much to do. We will talk about this subject at length some time. But I promise that when I do meet a girl I want to spend the rest of my life with, you will be the very first to know.’

His mother’s voice was subdued when she answered, ‘I’ll ring Annabel and tell her you are unfortunately not able to call for her this evening, and she should accompany her parents. And Andrew, my darling, don’t mention this conversation to your father, for he has so much on his mind, he’ll think it petty.’

George Wilkie-Brook was in the smoking room of the members-only club when his son came through the door. He quickly left his chair, and with an extended arm, and a huge smile on his face, he went to greet his son. ‘Come in, my boy, come in.’

‘I’m sorry I’m a little late, Father, but there was a lot of correspondence requiring my attention.’ Andrew grinned. ‘I must tell the truth and say that if it hadn’t been for Mrs Stamford, I would still be at my desk. She really is a treasure.’

‘Would I give you anything but the best, my son?’ George Wilkie-Brook had a loud, confident voice. A voice used to being listened to, and obeyed. Not that he was an arrogant man, for he was far from that. He was very down to earth, treated everyone as an equal, and was blessed with a good sense of humour. He never boasted about his success, but his bearing, dress sense, and easy-going manner in any company were signs that here was a man of means. ‘Will you have a glass of whisky before we go into the dining room, Andrew? I must toast you on your birthday.’

‘You have a whisky, Father, but I would prefer a glass of claret if you don’t mind. Whisky goes to my head, and I don’t think Mother would be pleased if I arrived home in a state of intoxication.’

George’s laugh was hearty, and turned a few heads. ‘You wouldn’t bear the brunt of your mother’s displeasure, my son, I would! But to make sure we both escape unscathed, claret you shall have.’ He lifted a hand to summon a waiter standing nearby. ‘One glass of your finest claret, John, and the usual whisky for me.’

‘If we’re going in for a meal, Father, we could take our drinks through with us.’ Andrew was feeling rather peckish, having eaten very little at breakfast time. Usually it didn’t matter what time he arrived at the office and he could breakfast at his leisure, but today was special and he had wanted to get in early to ensure that everything ran smoothly.

George laid his cigar in the large, round, solid crystal ashtray before saying, ‘I’ll have John bring the drinks through.’ He put a hand on his son’s arm as they walked into the quiet, select dining room. ‘I’ve made enquiries about the menu, dear boy, and the poached salmon and asparagus was recommended.’

Andrew rubbed his hands together. ‘That sounds very tempting, Father. I’ll join you. I won’t have the soup, though, delicious as it always is. I need to leave some room for the mountain of wonderful food Mother will have made especially for my birthday. After all her hard work, she’d be so disappointed if I refused to eat until there wasn’t a crumb left.’

George chortled. ‘Andrew, my son, your mother will not have seen the food until it is all spread out on the tables. She may know the name of every dish and every cake, and every bottle of wine, but if you asked her to toast a piece of bread, she wouldn’t know how. It isn’t her fault, for she’s been shielded from reality since the day she was born. She doesn’t know any other sort of life. Pampered by her parents, and then by myself.’ He swirled his glass and watched the golden liquor lap the sides. ‘I love your mother dearly, but I am not blind to her lack of knowledge regarding what goes on outside our close-knit social circle.’

Andrew took a deep breath before saying what had been on his mind since the day he became aware of how the Wilkie-Brook family lived. ‘And Charlotte, Father? Are you not afraid she is being spoilt? My sister is a lovely girl, beautiful to look at and full of fun, and she has loads of friends. She’s a good daughter and a loving sister. But what about when she gets married, Father? Will her husband be prepared to pamper her as you and Mother do?’

‘Don’t think I haven’t given that a great deal of thought, my son.’ George was suddenly serious. ‘I keep telling myself to be more firm with her. To cut down on her ridiculously high allowance so she learns to appreciate money. But I’m a coward where Charlotte is concerned, and keep putting it off. I admit I’m putty in her hands.’

‘We all are, Father, and that’s where the danger lies. You have to be realistic, for Charlotte’s sake. What if she married someone who wasn’t prepared to put up with her idleness and her love of spending money? What if she married a bully? She’d be devastated, absolutely lost. No one has ever raised their voice to her, or told her there was something she couldn’t have. Wrapped in cotton wool since the day she was born, she is ill prepared for any knocks that might come her way. And this is not jealousy speaking, Father. I am not jealous of my sister, I love her. And I’m afraid for her. She is nineteen years of age and the day is not far off when some man will claim her. I believe she should be taught more about life outside the rich society circle.’

‘How long have these thoughts been in your head, my boy?’

Andrew pulled a face. ‘The last couple of years, I suppose. When I first came home from university and joined the firm, I didn’t have time for anything but trying to take in all that was being taught me. Then gradually I noticed what an empty life both Mother and Charlotte had. Mother I can understand; her life is settled. But not my sister. Hair appointments, fittings for dresses she doesn’t need, afternoon tea dances, friends who are the same as herself, who have appointments with the same hairdresser. What an aimless life that is, Father. It doesn’t tax the brain or teach them anything about the ninety per cent of the population who are not in the same social circle. It is not a life I would want. It would bore me stiff.’

A waiter appeared with their food, and there was silence as he served the salmon and asparagus. Then, after making sure everything on the table was perfect, he nodded his head, clicked his heels, and said, ‘Enjoy your meal, gentlemen.’

‘I say, this looks and smells delicious, Father.’ Andrew shook his napkin open. ‘I am really going to enjoy it.’

George grunted his agreement as he tucked his own heavy linen napkin into the neck of his shirt. He didn’t reach for his knife and fork, but studied his son’s face across the table. ‘The pampered life wasn’t for you, was it, Andrew? It would have been if your mother had got what she wanted. And I have to say that when you left university and joined the firm, I thought it was just a fad and you would soon tire of the routine. In my heart I hoped you were serious, but I couldn’t be sure. So you can imagine my delight, and pride, when you not only turned up for work each day, but seemed to enjoy it.’

‘Oh, I did enjoy it, Father, and I still do. I know self-praise is no recommendation, but I have to admit I’m as proud of myself as you are. You’ll never know how grateful I am that you gave me the chance. It salves my conscience that I have worked for most of the money you pay me. Oh, I know I don’t contribute towards the beautiful house I’m lucky enough to live in, but I don’t squander the wage I earn, I do have a healthy bank account. And I am very happy, Father, thanks to you.’

‘You deserve what you have, my boy; you have worked hard for it, and I am very proud of you. But let us enjoy our meal, then we can retire to the smoking room and discuss business. My brain works better when I have a cigar between my fingers.’

George was in a thoughtful mood during lunch, as he tried to marshal into order the thoughts running through his head. His son had opened his mind to many things he’d been aware of, but was too cowardly to act on because of the disruption they would cause. His home was running smoothly, with no ripples to upset Harriet, his wife. And he probably would have let things carry on as they were if Andrew hadn’t been honest and outspoken. Now he realized changes had to be made, for the sake of his beloved daughter. Because he loved her, he had to prepare her for whatever the future held for her, while still protecting her from the harsh realities of life.

‘That was delicious, Father.’ Andrew patted his lips with the napkin. ‘Shall we have our coffee in the smoking room, and you can enjoy one of your cigars?’

‘Good idea, my boy. I have much to discuss with you regarding business and staff.’

When they were seated facing each other in the deep comfortable leather chairs, Andrew said, ‘You mentioned staff, Father. Does that mean you are taking more people on, or cutting down? I hope mine are safe, for we work very well together.’

‘We’ll discuss what I have in mind for staff later, Andrew. First I would like to talk about your views on how best to help Charlotte lead a more meaningful life. I don’t want to go at the subject like a bull in a china shop, but you have alerted me to the pitfalls she may encounter as she approaches marriageable age. Have you any suggestions?’

‘I really don’t want to interfere, for I don’t want my sister or mother to turn against me. I said what I felt in my heart, for I love Charlotte dearly, and would be devastated if her life was ruined because she knew nothing about the big bad world outside. She sees life as all milk and honey, and we both know that is far from the truth. Except for the very rich, who have never worked a day in their lives, and haven’t a clue how ninety per cent of the population live.’ Andrew sighed. ‘I’m sorry I got carried away, Father. I’m not a communist, far from it. I don’t begrudge anyone their money – how could I when I’ve lived in luxury all my life! You’ve worked hard to build up the business, and you’re entitled to everything you have. And I’m happy to say I earn a living now. But Charlotte doesn’t even give a thought to where the money comes from to keep her in luxury. And that is wrong. She should know money has to be earned, it doesn’t grow on trees.’

George tilted his head. ‘You’ve never talked about it before.’

Andrew shrugged his shoulders. ‘I suppose my time at university brought home the fact that life is not always fair. I had plenty of money to splash around. You were very generous and I was able to live the good life down in London. It took a while for me to understand that other blokes weren’t as fortunate. Their families were struggling to pay their fees, and unlike myself and the blokes I had chummed up with, there were no nights out on the town for them. And after a few years, I decided I would like to earn a living. The rest you know, Father, and I think you’ve heard enough from me. I hope I didn’t sound as though I have been anything but grateful to you for everything. You made me what I am.’

‘Nonsense, my boy, you proved your worth with your dedication and hard work. And now we have established that fact, I think we should get down to business. As I said, I wish to discuss the matter of staff. We’ll start with your office, shall we? Are you satisfied with the people you have, or dissatisfied?’

‘Oh, I am quite satisfied. The office runs like clockwork thanks to Mrs Stamford and the two typists. We get along very well with each other, and I wouldn’t wish to change anything.’

George and his son were alike in looks, except that George was a few inches shorter, and his black hair was lightly flecked with grey. The dark brown eyes were the same, as were the thick black eyebrows. And the eyebrows were drawn together now as he stroked his chin. ‘So, you wouldn’t welcome any changes in your office, then?’

‘That is difficult for me to answer, Father, for you are the boss. If you want to make changes, then of course I’ll fall in with your wishes.’ Andrew’s boyish grin appeared. ‘I have to say, though, that I would be sorry to lose any of my staff, for we really work as a team.’

‘I wasn’t thinking of removing a member of your staff, dear boy, I was of a mind to increase it by one.’

Andrew looked surprised. ‘I don’t require any more staff. We manage very well.’ Then he added, ‘But of course it is up to you, Father. What have you in mind?’

‘You have a spare office on your floor. I was thinking of making use of it for your filing cabinets. You will have need of more filing space when I transfer some of our clients’ business over to you. And of course, a young clerk will be required to be in charge of the files.’

‘This comes out of the blue, Father. How long have you had this change in mind?’

George tapped his chin. ‘Let me think. It must have been on my mind for a year now. I told myself that your hard work should be rewarded, and that on the day of your twenty-fifth birthday, I would transfer some of my business over to you. And on the same day you would become a junior partner in the firm.’ He laughed with pleasure at his son’s astonishment. ‘Well, have you nothing to say, my son?’

Andrew’s face was white, and although his lips were moving it was a few seconds before any words came. ‘I can’t believe it, Father, and I certainly didn’t expect it. I had no idea; you never hinted at such a promotion. When did you decide?’

‘As I said, it was probably a year ago. You were dedicated to your work, never late and never taking time off. And your loyalty deserved to be rewarded. Are you pleased?’

‘Pleased, Father, I’m flabbergasted! I never in my wildest dreams thought of this.’

‘I’m glad you like your present, dear boy. Happy birthday.’

Andrew left his chair to shake his father’s hand. ‘Am I allowed to tell our guests tonight that I am now a man of importance, or is it to be a secret for a while?’

‘Good heavens, no! You can shout it from the rooftops if you wish.’ There came a muted guffaw from George. ‘Not from our rooftop, of course, for your mother would be mortified.’

‘If you see me with an inane grin on my face, and a faraway look in my eyes, you will do something to bring me out of my trance, won’t you?’

‘I most certainly will! You have to live up to your new status, my boy. Cool and confident at all times.’

Still trying to take in the unexpected, but wonderful, news, Andrew managed a smile. ‘It may take a few days for me to manage that, but I will get there, Father, you have my word on it.’

George and his son talked long into the afternoon, each at ease in the other’s company. Andrew felt close to his father as they discussed future plans for the business. He would have been content to sit there longer, and was disappointed when his father took out his fob watch and said it was time to make their way home.

‘I’ll leave my car here overnight and travel with you. It will save time, and we can talk some more.’ George chuckled. ‘Besides, I can’t say I enjoy driving.’

As they walked towards Exchange Station to pick up Andrew’s car, he said, ‘If you don’t enjoy driving, Father, I can bring you in each day, and drive you home. I would be more than happy to.’

Again George chuckled. ‘Ah, well, you see, my boy, your offer is much appreciated, but it would put me in a dilemma