Outside the window of the Resident Engineer’s new and well appointed hut, across the road in the verge, there bloomed a solitary harebell, the first of spring. Its blue head bowed by the wind, it shuddered in the slipstream of the site traffic and the traffic from the village of Struie as they passed. Allan Crawford placed his hands on the two sides of the window and leaned towards the glass to stare at the tiny perfect bell and the slender shepherd’s crook stem from which it depended.
Harry was at the Struie Pumping Station excavation just a few metres to his left, looking down on Trots and Jinkie. Just out of sight he could enter the hut at any time. The grizzled oldster made him feel like a rookie without hope, a pale shadow unfit to shine the boots of the great Sir Graham Russell, the Almighty GR. At this moment Harry was the last man he wanted to appear.
An hour earlier he had been putting the finishing touches to his monthly report when Trevor arrived with the latest valuation and dropped it on his desk. As usual he had turned to the last page first. His short experience had taught him the bullet list of variations would always hold some surprise. This month it was staggering. Every penny of cost for the tunnel had been included on top of the excavation figures. He flicked forward into the text and read the Contractor’s case for his claim and saw that his earlier work in making up the document, his office work, had been at fault.
Putting the sheaf of papers down he noted his hand begin to tremble as Mac’s hand had trembled in the days before he was banished from the site, soon to depart the company and recently, if rumour was correct, the country. Reading from the screen of his laptop he amended the facts and figures he would send through to Vernon Street and that Vernon would pass to GR.
He extracted from Harry’s notes and, where appropriate, quoted from the Contractor’s letters. Adding a few comments of his own he realised he had nothing much to add unless it was an apology. Responsibility would rest with him and very likely he would soon follow Mac down the road.
He scrolled back the report to headline with the essential figures and the essential fact. The Contract would be complete well ahead of programme but it was going to cost a lot more than the Client had budgeted for. The final valuation was going to go through the roof. The great wheels of circumstance and human error was about to run over the first flower of his career. He returned to his desk and attached the report to an email, crossed his fingers and pressed the send/receive. It was 11.00am.
At 2.00pm he received a reply from Vernon. Brace yourself, it said, the Thunder God cometh.