Demons Slain

"Yes. It's only an occasional sale when it's the Department of Works paying. Her Majesty is known for her careful attitude towards money, so as we don't actually supply the Royal Family we will not be able to apply for a Royal Warrant." I could see his mind working and anticipated his next question.

"If I were to purchase some of these cushions, I suppose it would be in order to advertise them as sold to Buckingham Palace."

"If that were your intention Mr. Chisholm I would decline your order. The Palace can get very touchy about commercial advertising with their name attached. I could jeopardise my supply position."

He nodded. "Yes. I suppose you are right. Pity though. May I keep your brochure? I may get some customers who would want something so exclusive."

"By all means."

I hated to turn down an order, and I could have pushed him to a very good order. However I had to refuse. In any case I was certain he would mention to potential customers the Buckingham Palace connection.

Mrs. Winton was on reception when I returned to the hotel. She offered no greeting and slammed the room key on the desk without comment. That suited me, the less conversation I had with her, the better. It seemed a shame; Mrs. Winton was quite an attractive woman yet her sour disposition tainted her looks for the worse.

The next day I was in Truro. We had introduced a new line of antimacassars, quilted with silk tassels. They had not sold too well so far, but for some reason my Truro outlet was very taken with them and placed a good order. It was just by chance as I was showing the different styles that a customer in the studio approached and apologised for interrupting. "They are just what I am looking for. What colours do you do them in?" I showed her the palette of shades we could offer. She chose the Antique Gold and asked for six to be ordered. My customer cleared his throat and told her the price.

She didn't bat an eyelid. "When will they be ready?" I told her six weeks which again didn't worry her one iota. On the strength of that purchase my customer ordered another dozen on top of his initial order. It's funny how business goes like that some times.

My good mood evaporated as I parked up back in Tavistock getting ready to face Millie Winton. She wasn't there and Angela was on the desk. She gave me my key and asked if I would join her for tea in the lounge. I agreed and I walked through and sat down. Angela joined me, bringing the tray of tea with her. Without preamble she got straight to the subject. "I think I know why Millie is horrible to you."

"Do tell. I would like to solve the problem."

"You know she had just divorced her husband?"

"Yes. I gathered that."

Angela nodded. "He was a travelling salesman, the same as you."

"We do prefer the term Representative or Sales Executive these days."

"Greg!" Angela said with exasperation.

"Sorry."

"Well it appears that he was a randy so and so, and on his travels had many conquests. When Millie challenged him about his adultery he became abusive. He said all salesmen had adventures and it didn't mean anything. Every time she asked him if he was still being unfaithful he would become angry he struck her sometimes telling her to mind her own business. On one occasion he punched her, knocking her out."

I thought about it. "So are you suggesting that Millie believes I am cut from the same cloth?"

"It would seem so."

"That is bloody ridiculous!"

It was ridiculous. Then I thought more about it, I have heard the stories and if they were really true then there wouldn't be a married salesman left in this country. That is the problem. The stories become the fact and the truth is buried behind the sniggers. I personally knew quite a few travelling Representatives and I am sure that none of them had the kind of life the rumours would suggest, we are all working too damn hard to get up to anything. "If Millie feels that her husband is a model for all reps, then I think that I would be quite justified for hating all women, after the standard my wife set."

"I've never asked before, Greg. But what did happen, can you talk about it?" I nodded slowly and gave her a very short resume of how my wife behaved. As I told my story Angela's face became white with anger.

At the end she was vitriolic. "Your ex-wife, Greg diminishes all women. I'm ashamed to be the same sex as her. Why didn't you ever say anything to us?"

"Possibly because coming here was a haven of peace and I didn't want to taint it with the horrors that waited for me when I got back home." I took a sip of lukewarm tea. "Anyway you know now and it is all in the past." I raised my eyes and grinned. "You didn't tell me all this in order that I should try to counsel Millie? If so I decline. I haven't brought enough plasters and bandages with me to take on that task."

"No Greg." Angela smiled. "It's down to me really. I can't have my most favourite patron being upset when he's here. I mean if I ever leave Tony who's going to warm me at night?"

"Did you know that hotel proprietors have a terrible reputation of being incorrigible flirts?" I was laughing and Angela joined in.

"Well I shall have to do it more often. Can't let the side down you know."

I didn't see Mrs. Winton until Wednesday evening. She hadn't been on reception and Angela gave me my key. After writing the orders for the day I took my usual stroll in the garden. That was when I saw her. Slumped on Arthur's throne and sobbing her heart out. I knew that sob, it was loneliness, despair and the sorrow for a life that was lost.

CHAPTER THREE

Cautiously I approached. It would be folly to assume that she would want company under these circumstances, yet if she had seen me, turning around to walk away could be viewed as uncaring or rejection. She had seen me and lifted her tear-stained face, the distress changing to confrontation. I spoke before she could. "It doesn't get any easier, does it?"

"What does?" She was perplexed.

"The unhappiness, the sorrow, the feeling of failure."

"You know it?"

"Yes." I replied. "I know it all too well."

She examined my face, trying to decide if I was telling the truth or not. "How would you know?" She had obviously decided. "Men cause the problem, they don't feel anything. You are all totally unfeeling."

"If you wish to maintain your prejudice that's ok with me. I just thought that another who had gone through the same experience could help, but I see I was mistaken." I turned to go.

"Wait!" I waited. "How do you know about my troubles?"

"Angela told me a little. She was trying to explain your attitude."

"I don't have an attitude."

"Ok. Your apparent dislike of me then."

"Well you're just the same as the others. Getting around, having a good time, screwing all sorts of tarts, not giving a thought to your wives."

"Your perceptions are false. I can't prove to you that you are wrong and what is more can see no reason why I should even try. You had one bad egg. It doesn't follow that all the other eggs in the box are bad as well. Your mind is made up so carry on with your blinkered ideas. It makes no difference to me."

She stared challengingly at me for a moment, then her face crumpled again and tears ran slowly down her cheeks. I was torn. My logic told me to walk away, my emotions wouldn't let me. Compassion won! I took out my handkerchief and offered it to her. At first she ignored the offer then reluctantly took the cloth and wiped her eyes. "If you let it get to you like this, then he's won again." I offered as a crumb of comfort. "Angela tells me that you are an asset to the hotel. Build on that and make a new life for yourself."

She looked up. "Is that what you did? You did say you know the feeling well. I presume that means you have been divorced."

"Yes. Eighteen months ago. Luckily I had my job and put all my energies into that. It helped."

"What is it you sell?"

"Cushions. You could say I had a cushion to fall back on."

A faint smile crossed her face. Even that glimmer of a smile revealed the beauty she had hidden so well. "Just cushions?"

"Yes, but very special cushions. The very best quality for the very best of furnishings."

"Why did your wife divorce you?" Her blinkered ideas remained as the assumption that I was the guilty party proved.

"Wrong way round. I divorced her."

"I suppose you are going to try and tell me she was unfaithful?"

"No, she wasn't. She was a cruel, manipulative, mendacious woman who not only made my life hell; she made her friend's lives hell as well. She lived in a world of lies and fantasy, creating enmity between her friends and those she professed to love. I think the best description of her problem is aggressive paranoia mixed with an overwhelming controlling trait." Mrs. Winton was surprised as I went on. "You see it's not only men who cause the problems and it's not only men who are unfeeling. We don't have the monopoly on that and contrary to popular belief we suffer just as much as women."

Angela interrupted us at that moment calling me from the terrace. "Greg! John says that if you don't sit down to dinner this moment, your steak will be like shoe leather."

Mrs. Winton urged me to go. "You know what Mr. Fitton is like. Nothing but nothing is more important than his meals." She paused for a second. "Thank you Mr. Hammond for caring and trying to understand. No one has shown me that sort of kindness in a long time." She proffered the handkerchief then thought better of it. "I will wash your handkerchief; it's got mascara all over it now."

The steak was just as John would have wished it to be, tender, full of flavour and grilled to perfection with just a little tinge of pink inside. Angela, desperate to know what was going on in the garden brought me coffee and sat down at my table. "Ok, Greg. What was all that about?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know what brought it on, but I found Mrs. Winton in a distressed state. I talked with her and she seemed to calm down."

Angela looked worried. "Oh dear! I think I may have been the cause of that. I spoke quite severely to her about her rudeness. She seemed alright, and I thought she had gone home. I was quite surprised when I saw her in the garden talking with you." She grinned. "I almost sent for an ambulance, certain that one of you would need it."

"I was a little concerned at first but it came to nothing really. She is a very unhappy woman you know."

"Yes, I think you are right. There is no fun in her life; it's almost as if she is denying herself the right to be happy."

"Angela, when you married Tony, did you ever doubt it was forever, and the happiness you felt at that time would never end?"

"Not for a moment."

I gathered my thoughts. "Well think about it. Mrs. Winton was once like that. She was part of a couple who loved each other and wanted nothing more than to spend the whole of the lives together. Then one of them decided that the rules didn't suit. They wanted a freedom that the marriage vows deny. Imagine the innocent party in that situation. The life they wanted and looked forward to is suddenly yanked out like a rug from under their feet. From conviction and security they are thrown into emptiness and cut loose. Mrs. Winton is in that state, rudderless, washed every way by the waves without control and with an overwhelming sense of failure. It's not a good place to be."

Angela thought about that."Is that how you felt, Greg?"

"Yes. But I had my job and people depending on me. I had partners who expected that I would go out and bring in the business. I had no option, even though I wanted to hide away from the world, even though I didn't want to get out of bed in the mornings. I was so busy that I had little time to sit alone thinking about it and sinking into depression. Millie suffers just the same but she has time for her mind to keep going over and over the break-up. Time for her to ask herself what did she do wrong? She is probably blaming herself for the break-up, absolving the real culprit of all responsibility. You are right; she is denying herself the right to be happy. She sees it as the punishment she must suffer to expiate her guilt."

Angela was nodding in agreement. "I think you're right, Greg. I have to try and help her, but how?"

"Keep her busy. Get her more involved with the hotel. Give her a project, something like...let's see? How about researching to see if there are ways to get more out of season bookings."

Angela caught up in the enthusiasm. "I like it; we could certainly do with those. I'll talk to her see how she reacts." She finished her tea then looked at me strangely. "Greg. You said partners earlier. Does that mean it's your own business?"

It had been a slip of the tongue, but there was little point in trying to disguise things. "Well, Angela, actually it is, just a third of it though."

She thought about it and a mischievous smile came to her face. "Let's see." She ticked off her points on her fingers. "Good looking, a nice manner, fit, runs his own business. Sod it! I'm dumping Tony, you'll do for me. I've always wondered what a younger man would be like in bed."

CHAPTER FOUR

It was late September before I got back to Tavistock. The colours had changed now with a predominance of rust and gold in the foliage. The Corn and Barley had been harvested and the soil ploughed and harrowed, revealing the rich red earth of Devon before planting with winter Wheat. Along with the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness I found a mellow Mrs. Winton on my arrival.

"Hello Mr. Hammond. It's good to see you again." She handed me the key to room nine. "Your usual room." She smiled, and it changed her appearance completely. I had thought she was good looking although her unhappiness clouded her face before. Now I had to admit she was beautiful.

"Thank you Mrs. Winton."

"I have reverted to my maiden name now, it's Miss Grainger. It helped dispel...well you know."

I nodded. "Yes. I understand."

"Please call me Millie though."

"And I am Greg. When people use the name Mr. Hammond I look around to see if my father has crept up without me knowing."

She laughed at my attempt at humour. "Will you be dining tonight?"

"If I went elsewhere I think John would come to find me and drag me back. So yes I will be dining tonight."

"I am told he is making a Steak and Kidney Pie. Rumour has it that his pie is one of the best in England."

"I can confirm the rumour. I have no need to look at the menu now, my mind is made up."

The evenings were getting a little chill now, but walking in the garden was just as enjoyable. I was using Arthur's throne to sit and smoke when Millie came by. She was wearing a cardigan against the chill. "If I'm disturbing you, please say so Greg."

"No, not at all, that is if you don't mind my cigarette.

"I am glad you have at least one vice. According to Angela you are perfect."

"Nowhere near perfect." I shook my head." But I hide my faults well." I moved slightly on the bench, and she accepted the gesture and sat down.

She handed me my handkerchief washed and pressed immaculately. I had forgotten that I had given it to her to wipe her tears. "Thank you for the loan of your handkerchief, I really came to make my apologies for the way I treated you. I'm afraid that you became the target for all the anger I had against my husband. I am very sorry about that. Angela speaks so highly of you, and she explained a little about what happened to you. I agree with her, you have every reason to hate all women."

"I have reason to hate one woman, although my feelings are more pity now than hate. I don't tar all women with the same brush so I couldn't hate all women. But it's in the past now. Millie, are you managing to put it in the past as well?"

"I think so, Greg. It's hard at times, but I'm getting there." She changed the subject abruptly. "Do you smoke a lot?"

"Not now. A year ago I was never without one alight. Now I enjoy just one or two during the evening. Never when working though."

"You don't smoke in your room?"

"No, and never in the car."

"Good." She smiled. "It takes a lot longer to get a smoker's room clean. Angela's made me a sort of housekeeper so I get involved in the upkeep of the rooms now. She hinted that you suggested that."

I shook my head. "No, I am sure that if she did that you earned it. She thinks a lot of you."

That was the first of our civilized conversations. On leaving me to enjoy my idyll she asked if we could talk again as talking with someone who had been through the same ordeal was helpful. I had no problems with that at all.

I left the hotel at eight o'clock the next morning and by ten I was in hospital. I had literally gone only three hundred yards down the road when another car came straight out of a side road and smashed into me. The force of the impact shunted my car some ten feet sideways. It's weird that you don't feel pain at first, nor understand what has happened. Understanding came very quickly as did the pain. The paramedics who were called to the accident gave me an injection of painkillers and sedative and kept me comfortable as the Fire and Rescue team cut away the roof of my car so they could lift me out. They got a back-board under me before lifting me out. At the hospital I was subjected to the full gamut of tests and eventually they told me what I had suffered. I had a break in my right leg below the knee; my left wrist was broken as were two ribs and the sternum. Breathing was agony as was any movement. I had more bruises and contusions than I cared to count. With my leg in plaster and my wrist in a back strap I was not walking anywhere for at least three weeks and certainly not driving for a minimum of two months.

Angela was my first visitor, concern written all over her face. She fussed over me more than the nurses, asking every five minutes if I needed anything and was I comfortable. She made and remade my bed at least three times in the space of the two hours she was there. She was there when the doctor came to see me and despite heavy hints from him that she could wait outside refused to budge. One of his comments gave me something to think about. "Your all sorted, Mr Hammond, but you will be here for a couple of days just so we can keep an eye on you, but then you can go. Do you have anyone to look after you? You will be quite dependant for four or five weeks."

Now this is the downside of living alone, the one you don't think of when you choose a solitary life or as in my case it is forced upon you. I saw Angela's eyes light up. Without asking me she quickly told the doctor. "Greg will come to us. He will be well cared for, and of course he will be close to the hospital should he need to come back for any reason. I opened my mouth to say something but closed it again as Angela glared at me, challenging me to argue.

Three days later I was installed back in Room nine, with a veritable chemist's shop of medication, mainly pain-killers and two amateur nurses called Angela and Millie. For the first two days I was besieged with visitors. The Police came to take a statement, although that was purely precautionary as the guy who hit me was so out of it with what is euphemistically called recreational drugs that he probably thought he could fly. They were charging him with driving under the influence of drugs. Unusually in these circumstances he was insured so his Insurance Company would be picking up the account here at the hotel and a hefty amount for personal injuries. My partners in the business, Gill and Danny came to see me and we agreed that our solicitors would enter a claim for loss of profits for the time I would be incapacitated.

CHAPTER FIVE

I was getting frequent visits from Angela who seemed to be happy to have the opportunity to boss me around, yet at the same time was frustrated. "I have always dreamed of having a man helpless in bed, and here he is, too bloody helpless to do anything!" She complained bitterly. "Tony is wondering why I have turned into a nymphomaniac, not that he's complaining." We both laughed.