Читать книгу The Missing Angel - Erle Cox - Страница 4

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To his father, Tydvil's belated arrival had been a cause of embarrassment rather than pleasure. He felt secretly relieved when his wife had undertaken to deal with a domestic problem with which he felt himself unable to cope. He had his doubts as to the value of the boy's education at home. But he concealed them from his wife. Thirty years of married life had made him a domestic diplomat.

It was a relief, too, when his wife decided that Tydvil had arrived at the age when he should enter his father's office. It was his unspoken fear that his wife would demand a professional career for their son.

Away back in the '50's of last century, there had been established the firm of Craddock, Burns and Despard. The firm had flourished exceedingly. Burns's daughter had married a Jones in the '70's. Subsequently, through a series of vital and commercial dissolutions, the father of Tydvil Jones became the sole partner and owner of the firm of Craddock, Burns and Despard. The head office was housed in a vast six-storied building, and the women of six States paid tribute into the coffers of C. B. & D.

For the first time in his life, Tydvil Jones came into direct contact with his father. It was a belated contact that led to a mutual respect, based, although they did not recognise the fact, on mutual suffering.

The loosening of the apron strings, however, by no means meant emancipation. In the warehouse, Tydvil experienced the isolation of "the boss's son." It was the isolation of the man who would eventually take the reins. Departmental heads who imparted information were courteous but restrained. The general staff, both office and warehouse, viewed his advent with suspicion.

The boy's natural reticence increased, and, denied friendship, he threw himself wholeheartedly into his work. He had sufficient sense not to make his position too obvious to the staff. The natural ability he had inherited from his father found a proper outlet, and it was not long before Tydvil began to make his mark.

Gradually the staff recognised he was not presumptuous. Moreover, to their great and abiding joy, they discovered that he was innocent of the world and the flesh to an extent that was unbelievable to a horde of average business pagans.

The typists found with delight that, on being spoken to by one of them, he would blush a rosy pink. Therefore, they made opportunities to approach him, and the eyes of a dozen other minxes watched for the tell-tale blush.

There grew up around Tydvil legends of his innocence, that lost nothing in the telling. "Have you heard Tyddie's latest?" became a stock question. None the less, while the staff grinned joyously at his blameless life, they began to have a real respect for him as a business man.

Said one departmental head to another: "He may be a mug in many respects, but there was nothing of the mug in the way he handled that old swine Graham of Graham and Stone over those contracts. You know the old man's gift of language when the spirit moves him?"

The other nodded, and laughed.

"Well," the narrator continued, "he cut loose on young Tyddie. He had hardly got his first 'damn,' when the lad pipes up, 'You will be good enough not to use obscene and blasphemous language in my office. It does not impress me, and it is offensive. Kindly confine your remarks to business.'"

The listener laughed. "That must have improved the atmosphere."

"A close-up of old G's face would have been worth a fortune. He gulped out, 'I've done business with this house for five and thirty years, and have never been spoken to like that.' 'Hump,' snapped Tyddie, 'then it's about time someone took you in hand. If you don't like the way I talk to you, you can get out and close the account.'"

"That, to old Michael Graham?"

"Just that! And believe it or not, he bullied the old devil till he didn't know whether he was awake or enjoying a nightmare. He signed up for all the allowances we asked for and agreed to replace the defective stuff. Tyddie may be a perfect lady, but he is no mug."