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The Chocolate Tin

Page 27

by Fiona McIntosh

Her mother gave a smile of sympathy. ‘Gorgeous child you are. I feel proud of you.’

‘There’s more wonderful news, though, Lady Frobisher. Exciting, in fact,’ Matthew said, not even casting a glance Alex’s way as he said this. ‘She has been – oh wait, it’s not my place. Let Alex share her lovely news from Arnold Rowntree.’

‘Did you meet Arnold Rowntree?’ Minerva swung around towards Alex and just missed the glare that her daughter had thrown Matthew’s way.

‘I did. He’s a most jolly fellow.’

‘Your father likes him enormously, despite what others say.’

‘Why? What do others say?’

‘Oh, well, it’s their Quaker way, darling. I know you steer clear of politics but there’s a lot of sentiment in York towards the Quaker community and these are not happy times for the Rowntree and Terry families. Not even for the Cadburys, I suspect, in Birmingham.’

‘Because they object to war? I object to war!’ She poured her mother’s tea for her.

‘Hush, dear, not so vehement. We all object but we’re in, aren’t we, darling, whether we like it or not. All our men are doing their best to fight for the country and what is right.’

‘The Germans probably have the same attitude,’ Alex murmured and could hear the churlish tone in her voice. ‘I’m sorry. You know what I mean. I’m sure the everyday German mother doesn’t want her son at war and the German wives worry about their husbands and sons as much as we worry about ours.’

Her mother’s expression at least conceded this point. ‘That may be true but it doesn’t excuse the fact that York’s most prominent family is refusing to defend Britain. It’s not a comfortable situation,’ Minerva said, sipping. ‘Oh, that’s delicious.’

Matthew joined in. ‘Arnold is a caring MP for York. His spiritual beliefs prevent him from raising arms against another. But the Rowntree hospital and indeed the special gift to the men at the Front, using their rail carriages for transporting goods for the war, are still vital and even highly valued contributions to Britain’s battles.’

‘Well said.’ Alex thanked Matthew as his gaze urged her forward; they both understood there would never be a more appropriate moment. She drew strength from his encouragement. ‘And this is why, Mother, I’m taking up Mr Rowntree’s proposition that I become a guide for the firm.’ Before her mother could put down her teacup to respond, Alex pushed on. ‘You see, there are a lot of visiting dignitaries, some extremely senior people, who travel up from London, including international visitors. And while there are existing guides, the Rowntree family is keen to find a single guide whom they can entrust to give a more . . . well, shall we say, appropriate tour of the company. This person needs to be able to field questions without fluster, in French for instance, to know the right view of the Rowntree family so that there is no ambiguity in the information passed on, and to be capable and comfortable with people of this social stature.’

Matthew leaned in to speak in a conspiratorial tone. ‘Lady Frobisher, I have it on excellent authority that there may well be a royal visit on the cards.’

‘To York?’ she warbled, intrigued.

He tapped his nose, nearly making Alex laugh while Minerva put a hand to her throat with intrigue. ‘To the Rowntree factory, village, school, entertainment complex, even to its allotments.’

‘Good grief, when?’ her mother gusted.

Matthew gave a knowing shrug. ‘No date set yet, but . . .’ He paused dramatically. ‘There’s talk at high levels. And I suspect this is a reason why Arnold Rowntree would appreciate someone of Alex’s social standing, her education, her composure . . . dare I say her attractiveness, to spearhead a royal tour, should it eventuate.’

Now Minerva’s hand flew to cover her heart. ‘Oh, my heaven. Yes, darling. Of course it should be you. You are absolutely the right person to guide any royal around York.’

Alex blinked. Was Matthew lying or did he genuinely know something? ‘I’m glad that makes you happy, Mother, because it excites me to have this role.’

‘Lovely, darling, lovely. And you’ll feel you have a purpose, because I sense that’s been troubling you.’ She looked to Matthew. ‘She’s always loved chocolate; she used to try to guess what they were doing at the factories . . . She’s read up about it all but her father and I forbid her being on the factory floor like a common worker.’ Alex felt a pulse of horror flash through her. Her mother meant well but her haughty manner and choice of words could leave Alex speechless.

Not so Matthew, who showed no surprise. Trademark amusement sparkled in his eyes. ‘Oh, most understandable. You wouldn’t want to catch anything nasty, would you?’ Alex gusted a fresh, relieved laugh and her mother, definitely not used to this sort of dry wit, joined in, looking unsure. ‘Alex will be marvellous showing people around and explaining everything about the inner workings of a chocolate empire.’ He sold it beautifully; Alex found her admiration for him increasing by the minute. She watched his whiter-than-white teeth bite neatly into a cheese and cress sandwich and he gave a small grunt of pleasure, holding Minerva’s attention with his sleepy gaze and lazy grin. ‘And while they sort out all of that paperwork, embroidered name tags and so on, I’ve suggested to Mr Rowntree – I hope you don’t mind, Lady Frobisher, er, and you, of course, Alex – that you may like to help out on the special King’s Tin that is going to the men on the frontlines?’ He turned full attention to her. ‘I realise it’s rather forward of me, but they are in desperate need of additional people with excellent reading, analytical and geography skills. I took the liberty of presuming you might care to volunteer for the war effort as a geographical adviser as well as aiding the nurses.’

Alex didn’t need to look at her mother to watch her swell with pride. Matthew, she noted, was not nearly so bashful.

‘Forgive me for offering your daughter so readily, Lady Frobisher, but they’re looking for people with Alex’s exceptional education, and for women with cool hands, can you believe?’

Both women shook their heads in wonder.

‘When I shook your hand the first time, I recall thinking how cool and dry your skin is. It’s perfect for handling the chocolate should you need to.’ His words were met with silence and, rushing to fill it, he continued. ‘Working on the special royal tin, a treasured gift from the King, I thought would be special for your family too,’ he added in a final brilliant parry.

Alex had to stifle her amusement. Matthew was playing her mother the music she loved to hear and while she felt a twinge of guilt, she rather enjoyed the conspiratorial link with him, as though they were holding hands across the table and no one could see it.

‘Well, anything for the King,’ Minerva said in a hushed tone as though that was her final word.

‘I’ll take that as a yes, then, as geographical adviser first, before coming a special VIP guide. Shall I let Arnold know, Alex, that you have permission to help with the King’s Tin?’

‘Yes, of course. It would be a privilege. I’ll start tomorrow morning if he wants.’