He had been thinking about it since he got up. By the time he reached the office he was in a bad temper.
Clynes was hanging up his coat when he entered.
‘Did you know that Davis rang up Crawford’s last night and ordered thirty pounds’ worth of leather?’ he asked sharply.
Clynes, sullen from a sleepless night, said truculently, ‘Yes. I told him to.’
‘Why the hell did you do that?’ demanded the accountant furiously. ‘You know that there is a meeting of shareholders today.’
‘It’ll be in before the meeting,’ snapped Clynes. ‘Crawford’s said they would let us have it first thing this morning.’
‘God!’ exclaimed the accountant.
‘We haven’t got to pay for it. What’s biting you? We got a new order in and I have to complete it.’
‘We will return the order.’ The accountant set his lips. ‘Crawford’s evidently haven’t heard we’re going out. They think we are on the level.’
‘I’m going to complete that order,’ said Clynes stubbornly. ‘I want the leather.’
‘I’il ring Crawford’s not to send it.’
‘By Christ! If you do that …’
‘I’ll do it all right.’
‘I want that leather to carry on,’ shouted Clynes.
‘If we can only carry on by robbing Crawford’s we should have gone out months ago.’ The accountant clenched his hands. ‘Do you call that honest? — Ordering leather on tick then going out after it is delivered. Do you feel proud of it …? What the hell do you feel about it?’
‘We will pay twenty shillings in the pound,’ protested Clynes. ‘They won’t lose anything.’
‘Twenty shillings, hell!’ exploded the accountant.
‘If we go out, the more stock we have the better,’ defended Clynes.
‘Damn you! It makes it worse,’ cried the accountant wildly. ‘We still owe for it, don’t we? At the auction we get less than what we paid for it.’
‘We will make it into shoes.’
‘At a loss.’
‘No.’
‘What the hell are we going out for, then?’
‘That’s what I want to know,’ said Clynes. ‘This is an arse-up way of doing things. Why don’t we hold a meeting of creditors and see if they will let us carry on.’
‘That will be decided this afternoon,’ explained the accountant.
‘They’ll decide to go out.’
‘If they do it’s because common sense tells them it is the only thing to do.’
‘Well, I’m going to oppose it.’ Clynes drew himself erect. ‘I’m a shareholder. My house is one of the securities for overdraft. I want them to know outside that I opposed it. I don’t want them to think that I had anything to do with this place going bung. I’ve got myself to think of.’
‘Well, I’ve got out creditors to think of and there’s going to be no leather from Crawford’s.’
‘You tell that to Fulsham.’
‘Fulsham knows nothing about this order.’
‘I’ll tell him.’
‘Do what you like. I’m ringing up Crawford’s now.’ The accountant went to the phone.
Clynes turned and strode into the factory.
The accountant had rung and cancelled the order when Miss Trueman arrived. He had commenced tying invoice books into bundles, and stacking them against the wall. The wall was lined with shabby, leather-bound books. Old dust floated in the air. The shoulders of the accountant’s coat were grey.
‘Phew!’ said Miss Trueman, waving her hand before her face.
‘This is nothing,’ said the accountant. ‘Wait until we are cleaning out the bottom shelf.’ He took a copper paper-knife from the table, and held it up for her inspection. ‘I’m having this.’
‘I’m having that brass inkwell. Where is it? You seem to have got in first.’
‘I have left you your inkwell. There is half a bottle of ink down there, too, if you want it.’
‘I want to take a bundle of those followers home with me.’
‘Help yourself.’ He waved his hand towards the open cupboard.
Miss Trueman took off her coat and proceeded to help him. ‘After you had gone last night,’ she said, ‘Mr Fulsham made out two cheques; one for Coughlan Bros, and one for Gerald and San. The both of them came to over five hundred pounds. He was taking them round to both firms straight away.’
The accountant collapsed back in his chair. ‘Good God!’
‘It affects the houses doesn’t it?’
‘Does it what!’ exclaimed the accountant, agitated. ‘It’s a calamity. For weeks I’ve been pulling the overdraft down. We are allowed a certain limit, but I wanted to get it a long way below that. Correll, Clynes and I each have a house which, together with the factory building, forms the security. These two cheques will bring the overdraft almost up to the limit again. That means we three will have to meet the deficit after the bank has seized the proceeds from the sale of the factory building.’
‘Perhaps they will get enough for the factory without having to sell your houses.’
‘They haven’t got a hope. We will probably have to make good a shortage of about four hundred pounds.’
‘Isn’t that awful.’
‘I wasn’t worrying. I knew we were safe with the overdraft as it was. Hell! What a position. Tell Clynes I want him. We will have to do something.’ The accountant rubbed his forehead with his fingers. He closed his eyes, trying to think. Miss Trueman hurried out to look for Clynes.
When she returned she said, ‘He will be here in a minute.’ The accountant did not answer her. He stared fixedly before him.
‘What is the matter?’ asked Clynes, closing the door behind him.
‘Our houses are in danger,’ said the accountant bluntly. ‘Cheques have been drawn which have shot the overdraft up to the limit. We’ve got to act and act quickly.’
Clynes went white. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He sat down.
The accountant drew a breath. ‘Listen to me.’
‘Yes,’ said Clynes faintly.
‘The meeting starts in about an hour and a half. You will have to prolong it. Argue, demand explanations, contradict, make long, rambling speeches. I will drive round the city trying to raise the money. Several big firms owe us large amounts. I think I can persuade them to let me have a cheque. But it will take time. If you can hold up the meeting until I raise enough to bring the overdraft down to a safe figure, we will be right.’
‘But what difference does the meeting make? You’ve got all day to bank it.’
‘Look. Immediately those papers are signed the auditor goes down to the bank and closes the account. It is the first thing he does. You must keep him here until I have the money banked. It’s up to you.’
‘Christ!’ said Clynes despairingly.
‘You can do it. Now, I must go.’
‘But you should attend the meeting. They will wonder where you are.’
‘If they ask you, tell them you have no idea where I am. It will be the truth. You won’t know where I am when they ask you.’
‘How will I know when you have the money banked?’
‘I will keep in touch with you on the phone. Leave the meeting and speak out here each time I ring. Miss Trueman will knock at the door and ask for you. She will say it is urgent.’ He turned to her. ‘Hear that, Miss Trueman.’
‘Yes.’
The accountant looked at his watch. ‘I must go.’
‘A man at the door wants you,’ said Miss Trueman.
‘All right,’ said the accountant. He went over to the counter. Clynes rose slowly and walked into the factory.
‘Can you do anything for me this morning?’ asked the man.
The accountant shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. No. There is a meeting of shareholders in about an hour’s time.’
‘Not liquidation!’ exclaimed the man.
‘Yes.’
The man’s face changed. From an expression of comparative friendliness it clouded to a resentful brooding. He looked down in silence. The accountant forgetting his troubles for the moment, watched him, watched the change of attitude reflected in his eyes. This man can’t lake it, he thought. He will cringe. He will load me with recriminations. He knows it is hopeless, but he can’t help himself. I thought he was different.
‘Then we get nothing,’ said the man, raising his head. A faint, bitter smile fixed his lips in unnatural rigidity.
‘We will pay somewhere about fifteen shillings in the pound,’ said the accountant.
The man laughed scornfully. ‘I’ve heard that before.’
‘Probably,’ said the accountant dryly.
‘This puts me in a hole, I must say.’
‘I’m sorry.’ The accountant meant it.
‘A lot of good that will do.’
The accountant’s expression hardened. ‘I’m glad you think so.’
‘What about that thirty quid’s worth of leather you bought a fortnight ago?’ continued the man antagonistically. ‘You ought to, at least, pay me that. I gave it to you at a cut price. Leather’s gone up and it should have been threepence a foot more. What about that thirty quid?’
‘We can’t possibly pay it. The firm is bankrupt. You will have to wait until the liquidator settles with you.’
‘And what am I going to do in the meantime?’
‘I’m sure I don’t know,’ said the accountant impatiently.
The man turned to go. ‘A hell of a firm this is, I must say. A bunch of crooks, if you ask me.’
‘No one is asking you,’ said the accountant mildly.
‘Ar — !’ The man strode out in disgust.
The accountant seized his hat and coat. ‘I’ll be ringing you. Miss Trueman,’ he called from the street.
Miss Trueman knocked at the door and said, ‘You are wanted on the phone, Mr Clynes. It is urgent.’
The raised voices ceased. There was a scraping of pushed-back chairs and Clynes appeared. His face was drawn. His lips twitched.
Miss Trueman nodded at the phone and whispered, ‘Mr McCormack.’
Clynes sat down and picked up the receiver. ‘Yes,’ he said softly.
The accountant answered him. ‘How are you going?’
‘I’m keeping them there,’ said Clynes. ‘I’m arguing.’
‘Good. Keep at it. I’ve got three hundred. I want another half an hour. Can you hang out or will I return and bank this straight away?’
‘Can you raise enough to make it safe if you keep going?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll hold them then.’
Clynes returned to Fulsham’s office treading softly with both arms held out from his sides. Each time the ball of his foot pressed the floor he jerked his hands outwards as one who walks on ice.
The accountant leant forward, resting both hands on the polished surface of the table.
‘I will give you three and three quarter per cent for cash,’ he said.
The Emporium Manager looked at his finger nails and said, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I will give you five.’
‘We never pay any account under seven days,’ said the manager.
‘Would you be prepared to make an exception in this case if I made a final offer of six per cent.?’ asked the accountant.
‘I’ll see,’ said the manager. ‘Just wait a minute.’ He went out The accountant smiled and waited.
The manager returned with a cheque attached to a statement.
‘I want all the takings you have on hand, Mr Furness,’ said the accountant.
‘Certainly, Mr McCormack.’
‘I would like to use your phone, too, if you don’t mind.’
‘Walk right through, Mr McCormack.’
‘Hullo,’ said Clynes anxiously. He held his mouth close to the receiver.
‘I have it,’ came the accountant’s voice. ‘I am making straight for the bank. You can agree with them now. I will be at the factory in twenty minutes.’
‘Thank God!’ said Clynes.
Half an hour later the accountant walked into the office. Clynes was waiting for him. ‘I had a hell of a time.’
‘I’ll bet you did,’ said the accountant.
Clynes settled down to describe the meeting in detail.
‘So now we are out for good,’ he said, finally.
‘The liquidator is sending out a man to take over immediately, is he?’ asked the accountant.
‘Yes. That’s right.’
‘And all the hands except a skeleton staff go off tonight.’
‘Yes.’
‘Did they mention anything about the books?’ asked the accountant.
‘They’ve all got to go into the auditor’s office tonight.’
‘Close up, finishum now, Miss Trueman,’ said the accountant.
‘Yes. I feel all sick about it.’
‘Anyone ask for me while I was out?’
‘Did you see a man on the street when you came in? He said he would wait for you.’
‘No. I don’t think so.’
‘I’ll see if he is there, now.’
She returned, followed by a short, fat man with a red face. The scar of an old cut caused one eyelid to droop heavily over a pale eye. He questioned the accountant, speaking with very little movement of the lips. His words issued slowly and uneasily as if coated with fur.
The accountant explained the position. The man’s face fell into hopeless lines. He said heavily, ‘That’s what comes of relying on your word.’
‘I am the mouthpiece of a firm,’ said the accountant.
The man stood in silence. He stretched his neck and looked out on to the street. ‘I was promised it,’ he said doggedly.
‘That’s correct.’ The accountant paused, then added, ‘We did not have the money.’
The man looked through the doorway at his car. The celluloid in the side-curtains was broken. A bonnet clip was missing. The tyres were worn.
‘It’s all very well for those who can afford it. That money meant a lot to me.’
He made no attempt to go. He did not want to be alone in his car with his thoughts.
The accountant reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, sir.’
The man drew a deep breath and brought a smile to his lips. ‘I’ll just have to wait, I suppose.’ He held out his hand. ‘Good-bye.’
The accountant .took it in his. ‘Good-bye,’ he said.
The man walked out to his worn car.