The Forsyte Saga Volume 2(31)

‘There you are; not bad value for sixpence, old girl!’ and he peered round it. Lord, she was crying! He let the ‘blymed’ thing go; it floated down, the air slowly evaporating till a little crinkled wreck rested on the dingy carpet. Clasping her heaving shoulders, he said desperately:

‘Cheerio, my dear, don’t quarrel with bread and butter. I shall get a job, this is just to tide us over. I’d do a lot worse than that for you. Come on, and get my tea, I’m hungry, blowin’ up those things.’

She stopped crying, looked up, said nothing – mysterious with those big eyes! You’d say she had thoughts! But what they were Bicket could not tell. Under the stimulus of tea, he achieved a certain bravado about his new profession. To be your own master! Go out when you liked, come home when you liked – lie in bed with Vic if he jolly well pleased. A lot in that! And there rose in Bicket something truly national, something free and happy-go-lucky, resenting regular work, enjoying a spurt, and a laze-off, craving independence – something that accounted for the national life, the crowds of little shops, of middlemen, casual workers, tramps, owning their own souls in their own good time, and damning the consequences – something inherent in the land, the race, before the Saxons and their conscience and their industry came in – something that believed in swelling and collapsing coloured air, demanded pickles and high flavours without nourishment – yes, all that something exulted above Bicket’s kipper and his tea, good and strong. He would rather sell balloons than be a packer any day, and don’t let Vic forget it! And when she was able to take a job, they would get on fine, and not be long before they’d saved enough to get out of it to where those blue butterflies came from. And he spoke of Soames. A few more aldermen without children – say two a day, fifteen bob a week outside legitimate trade. Why, in under a year they’d have the money! And once away, Vic would blow out like one of those balloons; she’d be twice the size, and a colour in her cheeks to lay over that orange and magenta. Bicket became full of air. And the girl, his wife, watched with her large eyes and spoke little; but she did not cry again, or, indeed, throw any water, warm or cold, on him who sold balloons.





Chapter Twelve



FIGURES AND FACTS



WITH the exception of old Fontenoy – in absence as in presence ornamental – the Board was again full; Soames, conscious of special ingratiation in the manner of ‘that chap’ Elderson, prepared himself for the worst. The figures were before them; a somewhat colourless show, appearing to disclose a state of things which would pass muster, if within the next six months there were further violent disturbances of currency exchange. The proportion of foreign business to home business was duly expressed in terms of two to seven; German business, which constituted the bulk of the foreign, had been lumped – Soames noted – in the middle section, of countries only half bankrupt, and taken at what might be called a conservative estimate.

During the silence which reigned while each member of the Board digested the figures, Soames perceived more clearly than ever the quandary he was in. Certainly, these figures would hardly justify the forgoing of the dividend earned on the past year’s business. But suppose there were another Continental crash and they became liable on the great bulk of their foreign business, it might swamp all profits on home business next year, and more besides. And then his uneasiness about Elderson himself – founded he could not tell on what, intuitive, perhaps silly.

‘Well, Mr Forsyte,’ the chairman was speaking; ‘there are the figures. Are you satisfied?’

Soames looked up; he had taken a resolution.

‘I will agree to this year’s dividend on condition that we drop this foreign business in future, lock, stock and barrel.’ The manager’s eyes, hard and bright, met his, then turned towards the chairman.

‘That appears to savour of the panicky,’ he said; ‘the foreign business is responsible for a good third of our profit this year.’

The chairman seemed to garner the expressions of his fellow-directors, before he said:

‘There is nothing in the foreign situation at the moment, Mr Forsyte, which gives particular cause for alarm. I admit that we should watch it closely –’

‘You can’t,’ interjected Soames. ‘Here we are four years from the Armistice, and we know no more where we stand than we did then. If I’d realized our commitment to this policy, I should never have come on the Board. We must drop it.’

‘Rather an extreme view. And hardly a matter we can decide in a moment.’