Decision Time by Harcourt Tendhall
24 June 2020 { Historical Fiction }
‘She’s a Flapper! My son’s only going out with a bloody Flapper.’
‘No, Father, she’s a dancer. She only does that two evening a week to help fund her studies,’ I replied.
‘Doesn’t matter, she’s still a Montague. You end it now, before it gets serious, because there’s no way you’re marrying a Montague.’
‘Sounds better than Poulton.’
‘How dare you! Have you no respect for your heritage? The Poulton name goes back four hundred years. We virtually owned this island.’
‘Maybe, but we don’t anymore, Father, and you’re no longer a Seignuer, so you can drop the big I am in front of me.’
‘You’re not too old to be brought down a peg or two, young man.’
‘Oh please, let’s not resort to violence. It’s so outdated. This is the 1930’s, not the Middle Ages. I shall decide who I see and who I don’t. I shall also decide who I marry, whether you like it or not. Now, I’m going to Arthur’s to play tennis.’
‘Just make sure you’re back for dinner, we’ve got the Hallams over this evening.’
He can be so infuriating. As is this damnable family feud. How can they still be fighting about something that happened over a hundred years ago? Picking up my tennis racket, I marched out of the house and jumped into my MG14-28. Two years old when I bought it, but in perfect condition. Money received for my 21st paid for it and my allowance is such that running costs are not an issue. It’s a bit of a dog to handle, compared to Father’s Roller, but that just adds to the fun. It’s only a short hop to Arthur’s and Samantha will be there.
Five minutes later, I arrived on the front drive at the Hallam’s country home. I walked around the side of the house to the tennis court. Arthur saw me and waved, Samantha jumped up and ran over.
‘Stuart, how are you today?’ She gave me a peck on the cheek and one of her seductive smiles.
‘I’m fine, Sam, but I’ve had another dust up with Father. This family feud thing is really getting me down.’
‘I know, Darling. Dad’s for burying the hatchet, but your Father won’t listen.’
‘I know where I’d like to bury that hatchet! Never mind. Let’s enjoy our day. Now, Arthur, only three of us?’
‘No, old thing, Matilda will be out in a jiffy. She’s just bringing some lemonade. Let’s warm up.’
We played for around two hours. Sam and I won, two sets to one. After polishing off lemonade, followed by a Martini, we were completely relaxed, and it was only four o’clock.
‘Why don’t we pop down to Plemont Beach,’ asked Matty? ‘The tide will be out.’
‘No swimming togs, I’m afraid,’ I replied.
‘Nor me,’ said Sam, grinned, then added, ‘but I can manage without.’
‘That’s agreed, then,’ said Arthur. ‘I’ll grab some towels and we’ll take the Bentley. You can leave your bone-shaker here.’
‘It’ll beat your Bentley any day of the week.’
‘Maybe round here, but I’d leave you behind on the A12 to St. Helier.’
‘I’ll take you up on that.’
Arriving at Plemont, we descended the steps to a deserted beach, normal for this time of year. The tourists don’t arrive until June, but it was a decidedly warm May and we took full advantage at the weekends. We ran the hundred yards or so to the rocks on the left. The girls were already stripping off on the way and were in the water whilst Arthur and I were still struggling with our socks.
The water was icy cold when we ran in, but we soon got used to it. Even so, we didn’t stay in too long. You cool down too quickly at this time of year. It’s far warmer in August. After drying ourselves, we lay on our towels, soaking up the warm afternoon sun. As it moved around and the shadow of the cliffs crept over us, we dressed and returned to the Bentley.
Walking back, Sam asked, ‘Have you decided what you’re doing after the summer? My finals are coming up fast and, if they go well, I’m thinking of moving to London to take up journalism or join a publishers. You said you were torn between the family business or joining a firm in London.’
My dear Father runs a firm of solicitors in St. Helier. Obviously, he expects me to join the firm and take over from him one day. He’s got my whole life planned out for me – to become him in another thirty years, having bred another me so the whole thing can continue ad infinitum.
‘Yes, after this latest row, I don’t think I could join the family firm. I’ll never be free of Father’s influence and it would be a constant battle. I have to make my own way in this world and Jersey just isn’t big enough to let that happen.’
‘So, we’ll run away together,’ Sam said with a smile. She has this uncomplicated view of life that seems naïve, but it’s just that she gets straight to the nub of the issue, if adding just a touch of drama.
‘Yes, but don’t tell anyone yet. I don’t want anything getting back to Father before I’ve told him, and I’ll not be doing that until we’ve made our plans and I’ve secured a position in London.’
‘No problem there. I’m heading back to Southampton tomorrow.’
We drove back to Arthur’s, where I left them to drive home for dinner. Father still clings to the old traditions, so dressing for dinner is compulsory. Mother supervises in the kitchen whilst leaving the lion’s share of the work to Cook. We also have a housekeeper, a maid, and a gardener. Life is easy in this privileged family if you ignore having to live with Father. I feel sorry for Mother and the staff, who usually catch the brunt of his constant anger at everything.
I had already applied to several top firms in London and was hoping for some replies shortly. I’d also done my homework on the cost of living in the City. I knew what salary to expect and, with Sam to share costs, we could live comfortably, which would be fine by me. My student days had taught me how to live within a budget so, even if she were unable to secure a position immediately, we could manage. The wedding would be necessary before we left and that was the tricky one. Sam was making preparations already, but we would leave formal announcements until after her exams.
Arriving home, I found a letter waiting for me. I took it to my room. It was from Linklaters and Pains, the largest legal firm in London. An invitation to interview for the post of junior solicitor; just what I was hoping for. I’m to telephone for an appointment immediately. I stowed the letter, safe from prying eyes, attended to my ablutions and dressed for dinner.
* * *
I wake up with a hangover. As I lay here, the evening’s events returns to me in waves and I groan. He’d done it again. It had been a choppy voyage through dinner. The Hallams are nice, but no match for Father when he gets going. Last night he was in full flow, as we discussed local issues he holds very firm views on. It just made me increasingly angry. Mother tried to smooth over the rougher edges of his barbed comments.
The Hallams became more uncomfortable during the evening, until it all exploded after Roger Hallam tried to discuss the forthcoming council election. Sam’s Father was standing for the Liberal Party. Roger is a Liberal, whereas Father, of course, is a staunch Conservative. As you can imagine, the discussion got heated and I joined in, bolstered by more than my fair share of wine. Father began insulting the Montague’s again, and I just lashed out, told him a few home truths and that I’d be leaving for London soon and taking Sam with me.
He stopped short of kicking me out there and then but told me directly that he’d be cutting off my allowance and would disown and disinherit me. I told him to do his worst and stormed out.
So, here I am, unwelcome in my own home, considering what to do next when there’s a knock on my door.
Mother asks, ‘Can I have a word with you, Stuart?’
‘Of course, Mother. Come in; I’m decent.’
Closing the door quietly, she sits on the end of my bed.
‘That was an unfortunate end to the evening, although I do understand how angry your Father makes you, but he has his reasons. I’ve had a quiet word with him this morning and he’s prepared to continue your allowance and you’re welcome to stay here whenever and for as long as you like.’ She pauses, ‘Just so long as you don’t marry Samantha. I haven’t changed his mind on that one, but there’s time enough for that.’
‘Thank you, Mother, but I’ve decided. I’ll be leaving on the Plymouth ferry this afternoon. I’m going to make a new life for myself in London.’
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