Chapter 7

Grace was thinking about Terry too. The evening had been a success and fun. She admired the gracious way he had accepted her buying the cinema tickets. She smiled at Mama’s matchmaking. She wondered what she and Riccardo had said to Terry. More matchmaking probably.

Her thoughts switched to Mike, her distant boyfriend. They had been going out for three years. Whenever they were together they enjoyed themselves. They had a number of common interests and laughter was never far away. The trouble was that he often was far away. They had met while she was doing her management training at Winchester but then he was posted to Andover and seemed to be constantly on the move: Afghanistan, Turkey, and now Poland. It was not Mike’s fault and the army was his chosen career. It seemed he was considered to be doing very well to be selected to attend the staff college. He certainly had been delighted and had indicated rather vaguely that having a year plus in one place might be the time for them to marry. On the other hand he had not really made a lot of effort between Afghanistan and Poland to see her even though they were rather less than twenty miles apart. Was his affection cooling? His emails did not indicate that.

She was torn. She found Terry very attractive: warm, friendly, intelligent and not bad looking either. On the other hand he was one of her employees and, despite the fact that she reckoned that her fellow managers and more importantly her General Manager liked and respected her, for her to have an affair with an employee would be an inexcusable black mark. She thought back to her army days. Fraternisation between officers and other ranks was a complete no-no and she reckoned it was in the commercial world as well.

She rationalised. Mike would be home in a bit less than a couple of months, the end of April. Terry would no longer be an employee by early September. She would have four months to make up her mind.

She agonised again. She was keen on Mike; had been very keen, certainly physically. All the same, apart from Terry being quite good looking, as was Mike, he had not shown her quite the same gentleness and affection but then he had not had much opportunity and was just as aware as she of their difference in status.

She thought back to something her mother had said when she was nineteen. “Physical attraction can be almost overpoweringly strong. Mental and physical attraction is overwhelmingly strong”.

“Wait and see,” she thought. “Oh, why am I being so torn and uselessly analytical?”

Then it hit her. “Because you not in love with either of them, great attraction but not great love. Wait and see if and how it develops.”

Life went on. Greg reckoned that Grace was ready for her proper HGV 1 training and she enrolled. It was a five day course and she took leave to do it. Anthea said it was unnecessary but Grace was adamant. It was not a requirement for her job and was merely fulfilling a personal wish. That the firm was paying for it was more than enough. Anthea tucked that away in her mind.

She passed with flying colours and everyone congratulated her, particularly Greg and Terry. The other drivers treated her with increased respect: this was no detached manager but a fellow driver and a girl at that. There were no crises such as the flu epidemic so her skills were not called on although Greg did give her a number of short runs to keep her hand in and did his best to make them from companies that were dilatory about being ready to load at the appointed times. The warehouse managers were astounded when she started to appear as a driver and took note when she complained of delays. She was well briefed by Greg and was not afraid to warn managers forcefully that their companies might be discarded if they did not pull their socks up. She did not have to call Mr Walker in once.

Now that she had her feet firmly under the table he made it a requirement that she had a routine meeting with him once a month to say how she thought things were going. Quite often he would hold these meetings over lunch at his favourite pub. He did not once have to approach his customer opposite numbers. He was full of praise for Grace which he shared with the Board as well as Anthea who passed it on to her HR director.

In mid-April she asked Terry whether he knew the Peak District.

“You bet,” he answered. “I love it and have walked there a lot. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that I’ve heard about it but have no idea where I might go to start with.”

“What are you after? Nice views, flattish walks, strenuous walks?”

“Nice views and flattish walks to start with and then when I’ve got myself fitter something a bit more strenuous and demanding.”

Terry looked her in the eye. “Would you consider going there one Saturday or Sunday with me as your guide?”

She nodded excitedly. “You bet. I’d really like to do that Terry.”

He smiled delightedly. “If the weather forecast’s OK how about this Saturday or Sunday?”

“Great! I’ll do a picnic.”

“OK. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Terry.”

The forecast for Saturday was the better of the two. Grace did some shopping on Friday evening and put together a picnic. She had also persuaded Terry to let her take her car to save him having to buy petrol. She picked him up from his parents’ house at half past seven on Saturday morning with the sun shining and a gentle breeze.

They headed up the M6 turning off it at Yarnfield to go via Leek, over Blackshaw Moor, through Buxton to Edale at the southern end of the Pennine Way. They walked up that for about a mile and then returned to the car for their picnic lunch.

Neither had said much up to that stage with Grace concentrating on the road and Terry giving directions. She had slowed down at various points to admire the views and exclaim. Terry added to that telling her of various walks as they passed about the length and severity of them. She was pretty silent on the outward part of their short walk, drinking in the beauty but as they turned back she was unable to restrain herself any longer.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so quiet,” she said. “It’s just that I’ve been overawed by it all. Lovely farmland with its little fields, enchanting villages and then as we got into the Peak District the hills and valleys and rivers. Oh, Terry, thank you, thank you for offering to bring me up here and guiding me through and to all these beautiful places.”

She reached for and squeezed his hand. He gently squeezed hers back.

“I’m glad,” he said, “and agree with everything you’ve said. I think it’s beautiful. Not perhaps as stunning as the Lake District and less harsh than a lot of the Yorkshire Dales but I love it.”

“I’ve never been to them either. I must when I take a holiday. It’s all so different from Norfolk where it’s so much flatter and all the small fields have been turned into prairies with no hedges anymore.”

She delved in the boot of her car, tossed a tartan blanket to Terry who spread it on the grass and pulled out a picnic hamper out of which she produced a thermos and two plastic beakers into which she poured the contents of the thermos.