Classic Bestsellers from Josephine Cox: Bumper Collection

Harriet’s smile disappeared. ‘Is that right?’ she asked John. ‘He turned you down?’

Giving her a disheartened nod, John said, ‘I think I’ll go upstairs for a bit,’ and made his way straight up to his room.

‘There are other banks.’ Harriet’s voice followed him up the stairs.

It was Archie who answered. ‘He tried them an’ all. At first he just refused to give up. He marched me down to Victoria Street, where he managed to see the lending manager, but he wouldn’t help neither. Then we went on to that small bank on the corner near the docks. The manager was very nice, and he listened to what John had to say, but he wouldn’t lend him a penny. None of them wanted to help. I’ll tell you what though, Harriet, my old darlin’. They can’t see their noses in front of their faces. What! Give our John a year or two, and he’ll be earning more money than they are. The stupid bastards!’

Harriet gave him a slap on the arm. ‘That’s enough of the bad language!’ she chided. ‘Into the kitchen with you. It’s a good hot cup of tea you need and no argument!’ Before he could protest, she had propelled him unceremoniously into the kitchen.

‘He’ll not give up though,’ Archie told her robustly as he supped his cup of tea. ‘I know him. I know the kind of man he is, and he’ll not give up. You see if I’m not right.’

Upstairs, John laid the papers out on his bed. They none of ’em wanted to help, he thought sadly – yet he knew he could do it! He knew, too, that he had found the right place. Given the chance, he’d soon have the customers queuing at the door, only the money-men couldn’t see it. All they saw was a young, inexperienced sailor who thought he could set up shop against the big boys. Well, he could – and he would! He’d show ’em. He’d be at the auction, and God willing, things just might go his way after all.

John suddenly felt more optimistic. Who knows, there might not be enough bidders there to see him off. For one thing, the site was a mess, the outbuildings were falling down and the cottage needed a deal o’ work. It would take time, energy and money to put it all together, and not everybody wanted that kind of responsibility. But he did, and his hopes began to flicker again.

On the morning of the auction, Harriet waited until Archie and John had left to walk over to the site. A few minutes later, she stood at the hall-stand mirror, shifting the bonnet on her head this way then that, until she was satisfied that she looked the part. She fastened the buttons on her long coat, tied the fur tippet at her neck, and taking her big black handbag from the hallway table, let herself out of the house and went on quickening footsteps towards the town centre.

On arriving at the corner, she peered round to make sure Archie and John were not still hanging around in the neighbourhood. There was no sign of them. Good.

Harriet smiled secretly to herself as she hurried onwards. It would never do for John to know her intention. Right from the start she had seen him as a proud, but caring man, whose ambitions would take him far. It was a pity that no one else but herself had the foresight to see it.

A couple of miles away, John and Archie were walking along the canal, going around the site one last time. ‘There’s only two hours to go before the auction,’ Archie fretted.

Seeming not to have heard, John strode ahead, making notes as he went. ‘This place was meant for us,’ he called back to Archie. ‘It’s got everything we need.’

‘Don’t be too downhearted if you can’t secure it.’ Catching up to him, the little fella could see how desperately John wanted the property, but it was clear the odds were stacked against him from the off.

‘You can’t know how much getting this place means to me,’ John groaned. ‘I’m just praying that the money I have will be enough.’

‘Aw, look! Why don’t you have another word with Harriet? Ask her to go with you to the auction and if it looks like it’s going away from you, well, you could still borrow the money she offered.’

‘No!’ John wanted the conversation ended.

‘Why not? Good God, man! She said herself she’s got money put by. You can pay it back to her just the same as you would to a bank.’

John wouldn’t hear of it. ‘And why do you think she’s got money put by?’ he asked. ‘I’ll tell you why. Her savings have been scraped together over the years and kept safe for her old age, when she’s no longer capable of taking in lodgers.’

Archie persisted. ‘It weren’t you that asked,’ he argued. ‘She made the offer herself.’

‘All the same, I don’t want her to risk all her hard-earned money so’s I can buy a site and start a business that I can’t be sure will be a success. If I borrow money from a bank and fail, the worst thing they can do is throw me in jail. But if I borrow money from Harriet and fail, she’d have nothing to fall back on.’ John shook his head vehemently. ‘No, Archie. I won’t do it.’

‘So you’ll risk losing the site altogether?’

‘I’ll look elsewhere if I have to … at some other site that will match the money in my pocket.’ Though he knew he would be hard pressed to find one as suitable as this. ‘And that’s an end to it.’

A short time later they caught the omnibus back to the centre of Liverpool, and what they saw at the auction-house made John’s heart sink like a lead weight. ‘God Almighty, Archie, I thought I might be in with a chance, but now I don’t know.’

The place was heaving with would-be buyers: some in work-clothes, others in suits, and one or two shifty-looking characters smoking cigars. ‘It looks like I’m up against it,’ John remarked, sidling towards the front. ‘Keep your wits about you, Archie, and watch my back.’

He’d heard about ‘fixed’ auctions before, and something about the atmosphere here gave him the distinct feeling there was more going on than met the eye.

In the back office, the solicitor, Mr Leatherhead, had given his instructions and Bertram Tilbrook, the auctioneer, was even now preparing to start proceedings. There was a last-minute flurry of heated words between them, with the solicitor finishing in a low, harsh whisper: ‘Make sure you keep an eye on me.’ He gave him a warning glance. ‘I’ll be right there, in your line of vision.’

‘Don’t worry. I know the score!’ Glaring at him angrily, Tilbrook stormed past him and out through the door.

Unconcerned, Mr Leatherhead followed at a more leisurely pace.

Outside on the auction-room floor, people were beginning to grow restless. ‘I’ve had my eye on that land for some time now,’ one bearded lump of a man told his colleague. ‘Now it’s come up for sale, I don’t mean to let it go.’

His colleague laughed at that. ‘You’ll have me to contend with, Alan,’ he retorted. ‘You’re not the only one who can make good use of that lot. It’s mostly the buildings I’m after though, so whichever one of us gets it, we could do a deal with the other. What do you say?’

Broadly smiling, the other man shook hands on it. ‘Makes sense to me,’ he agreed. ‘You want the buildings for storage, and I want the land to farm. I’ve more than enough buildings of my own, so I don’t see why we couldn’t do a deal of sorts.’

Archie tugged at John’s coat-sleeve. ‘Did you hear that?’ he mouthed.

Disappointed, John nodded. ‘I heard.’

‘So, will we go, or will we stay?’ The little man had hoped the two of them would leave and spend an hour or two in the Sailor’s Rest, before returning to their lodgings.

‘We stay!’ Straightening his shoulders and looking ahead to the auctioneer, John told Archie, ‘For all we know, most of the folks here might just be dreamers like ourselves. Happen when it comes right down to it, they’ve got no more money in their pockets than I have.’

Archie thought on that, then he began panicking when the auctioneer banged the wooden gavel on the table. ‘Right, gentlemen!’ Tilbrook blew his nose and looked round the room, his glance momentarily resting on the solicitor. By now, the big man was at the back of the room, raised by the upward slope of the floor and in Tilbrook’s direct line of vision. Standing shoulder to shoulder with him was the equally large, and utterly respectable, form of Miss Harriet Witherington.

From where they stood, the two of them had a clear view of the proceedings, while the only way the bidders would get sight of them, was to make a deliberate turnabout.

‘We’re off!’ Archie could hardly contain himself. ‘What happens now?’ he kept asking. ‘Who’s bidding? Why aren’t you having a go?’ It was his first auction, and the excitement was unbearable.

In minutes the bids went higher than John could have foreseen. ‘Thirty-two guineas!’ The auctioneer was red in the face, his worried eyes shifting to the solicitor on every count. ‘Thirty-four … it’s you, sir.’ His eyes searched the crowd. ‘Yes? Do I have thirty-five?’

‘Bid now!’ Archie urged. ‘Go on!’ But John preferred to wait a minute longer.

At thirty-six guineas, the bidding began to slow down. Then suddenly it picked up again and two of the bidders were the men standing directly behind John. Having made the deal beforehand between themselves, they could afford to go that extra mile, and much to John’s consternation, that was exactly what they did. John could hear other bids coming in, but he was distracted by the murmuring behind him. In the excitement, each man wanted to be the one in control.

The auctioneer grew nervous. ‘Thirty-nine … I have thirty-nine guineas!’ He paused. ‘Forty, then! The bid stands at forty guineas.’ By now the sweat was running down his face and his eyes were more on the solicitor than on the bidding clients.

Taking everyone by surprise, there was a sudden and unexpected development.

Feeling confident, the two men behind John paused to exchange a quick word; and at that moment, four things happened in quick succession: John held up his number, as did another buyer at the far side of the room; Harriet gave the solicitor a dig in the ribs, he lifted his head and the gavel went down with unusual speed. ‘Sold at forty-one guineas!’

Tilbrook’s voice startled the two men, who couldn’t believe their ears. ‘Number sixteen? Congratulations, sir,’ he said to John. ‘If you’ll make your way to the office, please.’ Then he picked up his gavel and paperwork, and stepped smartly down from his desk. ‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, that’s all for today.’

Behind him the cries went up. ‘Too quick! He brought the hammer down too bloody quick! What the ’ell were Tilbrook playing at? It’s a fishy business, if you ask me. Forty-one guineas for that site! It’s givin’ it away!’

The loudest protests went up from the two friends, who rushed after the auctioneer, furious at being cheated out of their prize. The other bidder had already stormed out.

‘What the devil’s going on, man? You knew we were serious bidders. You brought that damned gavel down without giving us a chance!’

Bertram Tilbrook was used to such outcries. ‘You know the rules,’ he said firmly. ‘If you don’t keep up with the bidding, you lose out.’