Page 268 of The Armor of Light

‘Nothing formal,’ Jane went on. ‘Just talk to him about life in general. About school, and business, and girls—’

‘You know I have very little experience in that last topic.’

She gave him a flirtatious grin. ‘You may not have had many lessons, but your teacher was very good.’

He blushed. ‘Seriously...’

‘It’s more about how to talk to girls, how to treat them, things not to joke about. Women like you, Amos, and it’s because of the way you treat them.’

This was news to Amos. ‘You should be his adviser, not me.’

‘He won’t listen to me, I’m his mother. He’s approaching that age when children think their parents are foolish and senile and don’t understand anything.’

Amos remembered feeling that way about his father. ‘Of course I’ll do it. I’ll be delighted to.’

‘Thank you. You could let him spend a day at one of your mills, and perhaps take him to a borough council meeting, that sort of thing. He’ll be the earl one day, and he’ll need to know about everything that goes on in the county.’

‘I’m not sure I’ll be any good at it, but I’ll give it a try.’

‘That’s all I want.’ She stood up, came over to him, and kissed his lips warmly. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

*

Alderman Hornbeam left the mill at twelve noon, heading for the town centre. He was sixty-two, and walking was not as effortless as it had once been. The doctor told him to smoke fewer cigars and drink less wine, but what pleasure was there in such a life?

He passed the long rows of back-to-back houses where many of the hands lived. Business would grow again, now that the war was over, and more housing would be needed for the extra employees.

He crossed the first bridge, passed the hospital on Leper Island, and crossed the second bridge, then began the climb up Main Street. This was the part that always puffed him out.

He went through the market square, passing the cathedral, and continued to the High Street Coffee House, where his son, Howard, was waiting to have dinner with him. He sat down with relief. He felt a slight pain in his chest. It would go away in a minute or two. He looked around the room, nodding to several acquaintances, then he and Howard ordered dinner.

As he expected, the pain did not last, and he ate with relish then lit a cigar. ‘We’re going to have to build another street or two before long,’ he said to Howard. ‘I expect a post-war boom.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ said Howard. ‘Anyway, we own several acres of land there and we can throw up the houses in no time.’

Hornbeam nodded. ‘I want to bring your son into the business.’

‘Joe’s still in the army.’

‘That won’t last. Now that the war is over, he’ll get bored with it.’

‘And he’s only eighteen.’

‘He’s growing up fast. And I’m not going to live for ever. One day the business will need a new master.’

Howard looked hurt. ‘So that won’t be me, then.’

Hornbeam sighed impatiently. ‘Come on, Howard, you know yourself better than that. You manage the housing well enough, but you’re not the type to run the whole enterprise. You don’t even want the job, in your heart of hearts. You’d hate it.’

‘My sister could do it.’

‘Don’t be daft. Debbie’s smart but the hands won’t take orders from a woman. She can advise her nephew, though, and Joe will listen to her if he’s got any sense, which he has.’

‘I can see that your mind’s made up.’

‘It is.’ Hornbeam put his cigar between his teeth and stood up, and Howard got up too. Father and son left together, but Howard headed for the house – he still lived with his parents – and Hornbeam turned into Main Street, smoking contentedly, grateful for the downhill slope.

In the market square, near Willard House, he saw Joe – a sight that always pleased him. The lad was tall and broad-shouldered, and looked handsome in a new uniform he had acquired – from Hornbeam’s tailor – since coming back from Brussels. However, Hornbeam could not help noticing that Joe no longer looked young. There was absolutely nothing boyish about him.