‘You are late this morning,’ said Miss Trueman.
‘Yes,’ grinned the accountant. ‘Are you going to give me the strap?’
‘Mr Fulsham came in early. He wants to see you.’
‘Is he in his office now?’ The accountant jerked his head towards the door.
‘Yes.’
‘Give me that list of creditors you typed out yesterday. Did you tick the ones that have threatened to close down on us?’
‘Yes.’
His eyes twinkled. ‘Good work, Captain.’
He took the list and entered Fulsham’s office without knocking.
Fulsham was leaning forward with his forehead resting on his blotting pad. His outflung arms formed two right angles on the table.
The accountant withdrew, closing the door quietly behind him. Fulsham heard him and called out, ‘Come in.’
The accountant entered again.
Fulsham’s face was puffed through want of sleep.
New lines saddened his face. He smiled dejectedly, and said, ‘One gives way sometimes.’
‘Yes,’ said the accountant. ‘A lifetime’s work about to crash … Scores thrown out of a job … It takes facing.’
‘What is the latest report from the firing line? How are our creditors?’
The accountant sat down and referred to the list in his hand.
‘Gerald and Sons are demanding cash and refuse to take any more of our bills. There is one for two hundred pounds odd due on Friday, which we cannot possibly meet. They will cut off our supplies immediately that happens. The New Process Leather Company — Fitten called yesterday.’
‘That small, dark, chap with glasses.’
‘Oh, yes! I know.’
‘He has called every day for a week. He has a servile, cringing manner …’
‘I know the man.’
‘He says he has to pay cash for all he gets. Last month I got him to book some stuff ahead — those roans.’
‘Yes.’
‘He now seems to regard it as a most damnable confidence trick.’
Fulsham smiled. ‘Go on.’
‘He told me yesterday he hadn’t enough cash on hand to meet next week’s wages.’
‘That man is worth a hundred thousand pounds if he is worth a penny.’
‘I know that.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘I told him that we were expecting several large amounts at the end of the month, and that I intend letting him have part of the overdue portion as soon as they come in.’
‘He wouldn’t like that arrangement.’
‘He chewed his nails for a while, but had to accept it. All the creditors I visited last week extended our bills. We are at that stage now, where there is no need for us to try and placate them. What we want to aim at is to see that we pay a dividend that will not involve them in too heavy a loss on our debt. They have heard rumours about us going out, but they are not quite sure whether to believe them or not. They feel that if they force us now the crash is certain. But they are hoping we can stave it off’
Fulsham sagged. He clasped his hands and bowed his head upon them.
‘I have been a boot manufacturer for twenty years and have always paid my debts in full. A lot of these men are my friends. It is terrible. I will never be able to look at them again. How can I ever make a fresh start? Who would advance me credit after this?’
He rubbed his closed hand up and down his forehead.
The accountant was sceptical. ‘They will trust you again, all right. The profits they have made out of you over that period are far greater than any small loss that they will incur over us going out. We will pay twelve shillings in the pound.’
‘More than that, surely,’ said Fulsham, raising his head.
‘That is the figure I make it,’ said the accountant. ‘It will be less if we continue any longer. I’ll show you.’
He made out a rough statement of affairs. They studied it together. Fulsham questioned some of the values. He altered several figures.
‘That makes fifteen bob in the pound,’ said Fulsham, finally.
‘The factory will never bring five thousand,’ asserted the accountant.
‘I think it will.’
‘It may if we are fortunate enough to strike a buyer who is looking for a factory of this size.’
‘We must pay fifteen shillings in the pound,’ persisted Fulsham resolutely.
‘Then we should go out now.’
‘No. If we can hang on another month and complete the orders we have on hand it will add to our assets.’
‘Providing we are manufacturing at a profit.’
‘All those latest kid lines are showing us a big profit.’
‘Not by the costings I showed you last week.’
‘They were not accurate.’
The accountant shrugged.
‘It is the gradual drop in our output that has killed us,’ said Fulsham.
‘We should have costed on the basis of a small output.’
‘You have to make a figure that represents the factory’s normal output and cost on that.’
‘And lose in the meantime.’
‘Competition won’t allow us to get another penny more for our shoes.’
‘So Miss Claws says.’
‘Well, she is in a position to know.’
‘Miss Claws is a fool.’
‘What!’ cried Fulsham, staring.
‘Miss Claws has done more to ruin this firm than any other factor.’ The accountant sat up and faced him.
‘Rot! You don’t know what you are talking about.’
‘Look, Mr Fulsham. Miss Claws is incompetent. Every one knows it except you. Her management of the shops is the perfect example of mismanagement and stupidity. She orders without judgment. She judges the design from a personal, not from a selling point of view. She very rarely has a check of stock on hand. Our shelves are loaded with dead lines. I have seen her decide on a line, then switch, after the shoes have been cut. The factory despise her, but they are afraid of you and half her mistakes are concealed.’
‘You are a bigger fool than I thought you were, McCormack,’ said Fulsham quietly. ‘Get out.’
The accountant rose, smiling grimly. ‘So we continue the fight for another month: is that it?’
‘Two months, if it means the creditors getting more,’ shouted Fulsham. ‘Three months, if necessary.’
‘That is my sentiment, too,’ replied the accountant. ‘But I still maintain we will pay less by continuing.’
Fulsham pulled the newspaper lying on the table, towards him. It was open at racing results. He did not reply.
The accountant went into the main office. As he passed through the door, a sudden, momentary coldness sped to his heart. He shuddered. Freda …
He spoke on the phone. He said, ‘Hullo,’ and relaxed to wait after a girl’s voice had replied, ‘Coughlan Brothers here. Just a minute. Mr Coughlan wants to speak to you about that quote.’
The receiver was cold against his ear. Through it he could hear the faint tapping of a typewriter. He felt tired and dispirited. He could see Freda, numerous Freda’s, parading before him like mannequins in a fashion parade. Freda in green. Freda in blue. Freda in the red beret. Freda holding flowers. An enormous, shadowy, smiling face of her like a canopy above him: that descended: that breathed just beyond the reach of his mouth … Her mouth, her red mouth, her soft mouth …
‘We won’t keep you a minute. We are working on it now.’
‘All right.’
He saw her in part. A slender hand moving up to pat her hair, a silk-stockinged leg on the step of the car, an ear beneath fair curls, a smooth, curved cheek and the backward slip of smiling lips over wet teeth …
He smiled bitterly. Purely physical. Very significant these thoughts. Your mind does not hover round her faults. No. It is her body you love. Well, what of it? I love her. Drop your seeking the whys and wherefores. Face the facts. You love her, damn you.
He suddenly saw the succession of days ahead of him a long line of square, empty cells.
‘Two and four,’ he spoke into the receiver. ‘Is that the best you can do? All right. I will let you know the result later.’
He heard the girl’s voice, its tone slightly changed, ‘It’s cash, you know.’
‘I realise that.’
He hung up and turning, asked, ‘Are you very busy this morning, Miss Trueman?’
She stopped typing. ‘Not very. Why?’
‘I would like some references typed out in a minute. The foremen have been asking me to write them out some.’
‘They are not leaving, are they?’
‘No, but they all seem to be getting the wind up. They really can’t afford to be out of work, so I am letting those who ask me have their references now. It will give them time to look around.’
‘Hand them over when you are ready.’
‘I won’t be long.’
He began writing. ‘To whom it may concern. The bearer, Mr William Clarkson, has been in our employ for a period of ten years. During that time …’
He stopped writing and looked thoughtfully before him. Clarkson: ‘It’s tragic, Mr McCormack. It is. It’s tragic.’ And so it is, thought the accountant. By God it is!
Clarkson had rested his cracked hands on the bench. ‘It came as a shock to me, Mr McCormack. You see, I didn’t expect anything like this. I thought the firm was sound. You know that employees’ bank we had two years ago where you left ten bob of your wages back each week? It saved you banking it, and that. Well, I never ever drew mine out. I’ve got fifty quid due to me. The wife and I … You see, it was sort of safe, and that. It was the same as if it was in the bank, like.’
He had said, ‘Don’t worry, Clarkson. It will be all right.’ He had said, ‘I’ll get it for you, Clarkson.’ He had said, ‘You will be paid, all right.’
He turned to Miss Trueman. ‘When you are making out the wages on Friday, include an extra twenty pounds and charge it to “Employees’ Bank”. There is an account for it in the private ledger. Do the same next week, too.’
‘Have we enough money in the bank this week to meet it?’
‘Yes.’
‘What will I say if Mr Fulsham questions the size of the cheque.’
‘I will get the cheque signed before you fill it in.’
‘Good-o.’
He returned to the reference. He wrote three and handed them to Miss Trueman for typing.
‘I will sign them as accountant,’ he said.
When they were complete he put them in envelopes and took them into the factory.
Mrs Bourke smiled at him as he passed. ‘How is your little boy?’ he asked.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘He is up, now.’
Davis detained him after thanking him for the reference.
‘Coughlan came up to me in a terrible state. It made me feel a bit of a bastard. I bought a lot of leather off him last week. Now he has been hearing things. He thinks we are going out quick. I told him there was nothing in it. What should I have said?’
‘It is awkward,’ said the accountant. ‘It seems to be common knowledge. Personally, I think we should tell men like Coughlan, who have stuck to us. You could rely on him to keep his mouth shut. However, Fulsham says not to, so there you are.’
‘But everyone knows. Coughlan said that he heard that there was to be a meeting of creditors tomorrow.’
‘That is not true.’
‘No. I told him.’
‘There will be a meeting of shareholders first.’
‘Yes. That’s right.’
‘Look. If I were you I would ring up Coughlan and tell him to come down and see you. Tell him you will see me and do your best to get him something on account. Be frank with him and tell him to keep his mouth shut. I don’t like this bloody lying and evasion.’
‘Neither do I.’
The accountant turned to go.
‘How about taking a ticket in “Tatts” with me?’ asked Davis.
‘Right,’ said the accountant.