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‘Good. I’ll tell Bill to come up to the flat for the bags. He should be there in half an hour or so, depending on the traffic.’
‘All right. David…well, you are sure that it’s what you want, aren’t you? It isn’t too late to ring Maggie and tell her we won’t be coming.’
‘And have my dear brother thinking that I can’t face him? I don’t think so, Beth!’
He rang off abruptly and Beth replaced the receiver, wishing that she’d left well alone. That was part of the trouble: she was becoming far too involved in David’s affairs, starting to care too deeply how he felt. As she recovered her strength she should be starting to make plans for the future, starting to work out where her life was going, but it seemed impossible to separate her life from his, to imagine a future which didn’t have him as the focal point. It would be so easy to let herself fall in love with David, so easy yet so dangerous because he would never love her in return, and she couldn’t face the thought of being hurt again.
The factory was quiet when she arrived. Beth thanked the driver then made her way in through the door he indicated, looking round the huge room with surprise. When she’d imagined the factory, she’d expected to see rows of gleaming machinery turning out various items of furniture, but that wasn’t the case at all.
Slowly she made her way down the long room, studying the tools laid out on the workbenches, craftsmen’s tools used for making furniture by hand in the traditional way. She came to the end of the bench and stopped, unable to resist drawing a sheet aside to examine the chest of drawers it was covering, and gasped in delight at the elegant lines, the workmanship which carried the hallmark of centuries of skill.
‘Like it?’ David suddenly appeared at her side, smiling at the stunned admiration on her face.
‘Of course! It’s gorgeous.’ She looked round, skimming a glance over other pieces all shrouded against the dust. ‘I had no idea you made furniture like this, despite all those letters I’ve typed for you!’
He laughed deeply, leaning back against the bench while he watched her with amused eyes. ‘What did you imagine? Mass-produced stuff churned out in its dozens?’ He shook his head, his blond hair gleaming in the soft half-light. ‘I’m not interested in that. I make individual items here, collectors’ pieces made by craftsmen who have spent years learning their trade. The mass market holds no appeal whatsoever.’
‘I can understand why.’ She stroked her fingers over the chest then let the cover drop back into place. ‘But who buys furniture like this? It must be dreadfully expensive.’
‘Quality costs, whatever it is you’re buying. However, lack of orders isn’t a problem. The business has gone from strength to strength since I started it. The order books are full for the next three years, in fact.’
‘You must have found your place in the market, then.’
‘I have, fortunately. It was a gamble, I’ll admit that, but I started small, just me making the first few items, and have gone on from there. I now employ twelve men and am looking towards taking on a couple more in the next few months if I can find any skilled enough for the work we do here.’
‘You? You made the furniture yourself?’
‘I did. I still do, in fact. That’s one of the reasons why I have so much paperwork to do when I’m at home. I spend as much time as is feasible working with my hands.’ He laughed mockingly, taking her arm to lead her across the room. ‘I can see you’re not wholly convinced. Take a look at this. I had been intending to keep it as a surprise until it was completely finished, but as you’re here you may as well see it now.’
He drew a cover aside, watching her expression as she stared down at the exquisite work-box with its lid inlaid with a delicate pattern of roses and lily of the valley surrounding a flowing letter ‘B’.
‘For me?’
‘Of course. It has your initial on it, doesn’t it, Beth? I wanted to make you something special, Beth. To try to make up for everything you’ve been through recently. Something beautiful to keep.’
