The Burnley Boys

by Drew Black

  Tom leant forward.

  "However, I don't have to tell you that there's no such thing as a free lunch."

  Tom leant back again, "What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously.

  "What I mean is that I can hide it, but I can't bury it."

  Tom nodded.

  "Okay, this is the deal; you get rid of that asshole; James, Johnson, Jones, whatever he's called.

  "Jones."

  "Exactly, and promote John Sergeant, and I'll keep the lid on this for six months. Hopefully, by then, the two of you will have turned things around sufficiently for us to give this year’s figures a decent burial.

  Tom paused for thought, and then asked; "Why John Sergeant? I'm not saying that I've got anything against the guy, but he's got a bit of a mouth on him."

  Gerald shrugged his shoulders, "He's exactly what you need right now Tom. How much are you paying for cotton, or transport, or for stationery and sundries?"

  Tom shook his head, "I've no idea, it's not really my department. I'm too busy to get engrossed in all that sort of thing what with this place, the syndicate, seeing clients, I never stop."

  "Exactly, that's why you need someone at the helm who you can trust, someone who the staff respect. Now I'm not suggesting for one moment that the staff don't respect you Tom, but like you've just said, you've got a lot on."

  Tom nodded, he could almost smell the scotch, taste it. He licked his lips, they were dry.

  "And, he'd knock your suppliers into shape. I'll stop short of saying this Jones chap is on the take because if I did, I'd feel duty bound to spend time proving it, and to be honest, like yourself Tom, I just haven't got the time. If you don't like Sergeant, put someone else in charge, but to me Sargant’s tailor made for the job. You wouldn't have to spend hours on end training him, he knows the place and all the staff inside out. He knows all the fiddles, he probably devised most of them for Christ's sake."

  "I hear what you say, but there's just one thing that's puzzling me Gerald."

  "What's that Tom?" Emerson said pushing his glasses up on his nose.

  "What's in it for you?"

  A knock came to the door. "Come in." Tom said rather harshly.

  "Do you want another coffee?" Cheryl asked looking from one man to the other.

  "Please Cheryl." Tom replied instantly regretting being sharp with her.

  "Not for me thanks Cheryl, I'll be leaving shortly."

  "Okay." Cheryl said closing the door quietly behind her.

  Emerson did not use the interruption as an excuse to evade Tom's question; "What's in it for me?" he said, "Nothing, maybe one day you can return the favour, but there's no strings attached to it, if that's what you're thinking. I think John knew a little bit more about the state of his health than he was letting on. That's just my opinion, you understand."

  Tom nodded, "Go on." he said.

  "Well a few months before he died, we had a bit of a heart to heart, and one of the subjects that cropped up was you and young Jack. He made me promise, he was quite adamant about it in fact, that if anything happened to him, I'd keep an eye out for both of you. When I agreed that I would he seemed relieved. You do know that you were the two sons he never had, don't you?

  "Well, I always thought he looked upon Jack in that way, but not me."

  "No, you're quite wrong about that Tom. He looked upon both of you as his own, he told me that on many occasions."

  "Well I really appreciate your help, Gerald, and the insight into John's feelings about how he thought about me, but what about Jack and the rest of the boys?"

  "What about them? No-one will be devastated by a couple of thousand pounds profit for the final quarter, okay no-one's going to be ecstatic either, but it gives us a bit of breathing space, time to turn things around."

  "And what happens if we don't turn it around in six months?"

  "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it, and don't look so worried Tom, treat it as a game, something to enjoy not something to fear. You'll turn it around, and if for whatever reason you don’t, we'll go back to the drawing board." Gerald gathered his papers together, straightened them by tapping them on the corner of Tom's desk, placed them back in the file and handed it back to Tom. "Right," he said closing his briefcase, "I'll be on my way, you've got a good kid there by the way."

  "Oh Cheryl, yeah, she's great."

  "Yes, Cheryl's fine, but I was referring to the young lady who's just started today. The blonde-haired girl."

  "Oh, you mean Maggie." Tom said smiling.

  "Yep, she's as bright as a button, and pleasant with it, she could be a real asset to this place." Gerald said slipping on his coat.

  "Thanks again Gerald, and I'm sorry for how I was with you yesterday."

  “That's all forgotten, just promise me one thing though."

  "Sure, anything."

  "If things aren't working out, give me a call, and if I can I'll try my best to help you out, that goes for young Jack too."

  "Thanks." Tom said shaking Gerald's hand, I'll see you out."

  Tom tidied up his desk for the day, he felt really pleased with himself. He hadn't had a drink all afternoon. Admittedly, he'd had a couple of stiffeners before Gerald had arrived, but nothing since then. I'm going to cut down, really cut down, he told himself. Gerald obviously had faith in him, so that alone should give him an incentive to get back on the straight and narrow.

  "Good night Mr Ford." Cheryl called out from the main office. Tom looked at the clock on the wall, it said ten past six; God, was it that late? Tom went into the main office. "I lost track of the time; I hope you haven't stayed late on my account." he said.

  "It's okay Mr Ford, I just wanted to get straight, that's all."

  "Well, thanks a lot Cheryl, I'll see you in the morning."

  "Goodnight then." Cheryl said leaving the office.

  Tom shook his head; he did hope she hadn't been waiting for him to say she could go.

  "Goodnight Maggie." he heard Cheryl call out. Maggie, What the hell was she doing still here? Tom paused for a few seconds and then went out into the club.

  "Oh, Mr F?" one of the tradesmen called out.

  "Yes, what is it Dave?"

  "We'll be working through tonight, well half the lads, anyway. You don't mind us kipping here, do you?"

  “What, you're working all night?" Tom asked in astonishment.

  "Well, 'til about twoish, we don't want to get into all that penalty clause stuff, if we're not finished on time."

  "Oh right." Tom replied. What fucking penalty clause? He thought.

  "Jack, I mean Mr Davies was here the other day. He said you'd asked him to remind the gaffer about it. The gaffer didn't even know it was in the contract, but it was."

  "I'm sure you'll get there Dave; you guys have never let us down before." Tom said patting him on the back, he walked on and then stopped. He took out a couple of pound notes from his pocket. "Here you are Dave."

  "What's that Mr F?" Dave said turning carefully so as not to damage anything with the plank of wood he was carrying.

  "Get the lads some supper on me, alright?"

  "Cheers Mr F, you're a true gent."

  "You okay for water?"

  "Yeah, most of the plumbing's done, we'll be careful mind."

  "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow." Tom walked towards the bar. "What are you doing still here?" he said.

  "Oh God, you made me jump!" Maggie said putting her hand to her chest.

  Tom laughed; "We don't want to wear you out before opening night, you know."

  "Oh, I just thought I'd finish this off, I hate leaving a job half done."

  "Come on I'll give you a lift, you've done enough work for one day." Tom said removing his car keys from his pocket.

  "I must admit, I am beginning to wilt." Maggie said wiping marking pen from her fingers, "you sure it's no trouble?"

  "It's no trouble at all." Tom said heading towards reception.

  "Where a bouts do you live?" Tom asked starti
ng his Mercedes's engine.

  "Tabley Apartments." Maggie replied flipping her hair out from under her coat's collar.

  Tom whistled, "I've heard there supposed to be really nice."

  "They are, that's why I was so relieved to get another job so quickly."

  "Yeah, you'll like it here Maggie, Gerald was really impressed with you."

  "Gerald?"

  "Gerald Emerson, one of the directors." Tom said looking sideways at her.

  "Oh right. Why, what did he say?" Maggie asked feeling just a little embarrassed.

  "He thought that you were as bright as a button." Tom said as he slowed at the lights.

  Maggie laughed, and put her hand to her mouth.

  "What are you laughing at?"

  "I'd hardly say I was as bright as a button." Maggie replied putting both her hands on her jeans.

  "Don't put yourself down Maggie. Look at me I couldn't even read until I was sixteen, and I haven't done too badly for myself."

  Maggie looked across at him, but Tom was deep in thought. He shook his head. "God, you're the first person, I've ever told that to, in all this time."

  Maggie smiled, and then Tom did look across. "I used to be petrified of people finding out, you know. I used to think people would think I was stupid." he shook his head again.

  "Some of the world's finest musicians can't read music." Maggie said.

  Tom looked across at her again; "What's that?"

  "Some of the world's finest musicians can't read music, they just play."

  Tom said nothing for a moment. "I've never thought about it like that before, what a lovely sentiment. Thanks Maggie."

  "For what?" she asked.

  "I'm not sure really, but thanks all the same. It's left up here, isn't it?"

  Maggie nodded, "Yeah, just after the park."

  "Yeah, when I finally learned to read, well as soon as I could get by really, I felt as though a great weight had been lifted from me. I suppose the following six months were the happiest of my life."

  "What made you learn?"

  Tom smiled, "An old friend rumbled me. He asked me to read him a football report. I think the Clarets had beaten Leeds four-one, or it might've been Tottenham, I can't remember. Anyway, I almost got away with it, but Jack has always been as sharp as a tack, even back then."

  Maggie was about to ask who Jack was but then decide not to pry. She liked Tom he exuded self-confidence, but he also had a vulnerable, little boy lost, quality that made you feel that you just wanted to give him a hug. He's married Maggie, she told herself, and besides he's your boss, you have to work with him. Yes, he was, but then again, a manager was taking over next week.

  "We were so close back then--" Tom said almost to himself.

  "It's just here Tom on the right." Maggie interrupted.

  "Oh right." Tom said coming out of his thoughts and indicating to pull over.

  "Well thanks a lot for the lift Tom, I really appreciate it, I'll see you in the morning." Maggie said getting out of the car. She walked around the front of the vehicle and smiled.

  Tom smiled back. Yes, they were inseparable back then. God how he wished he could go back to those times even if it was for only a week or two to re-charge ...

  Maggie knocked on the glass and Tom wound his window down.

  "Did you forget something?" he asked emerging from his thoughts.

  "Listen," she said bending forward and pushing her hair behind her right ear. The wind immediately dislodged it making Maggie repeat the procedure. "Do you want to come in for a while?"

  Tom looked at her snapping back into reality, he was sorely tempted, but thought perhaps it wasn't such a good idea. "No, you must be tired, your first day and everything, but thanks for being polite." Tom engaged first gear.

  "I wasn't being polite." Maggie countered, "Come up and have a look at the apartment, although I do want an early night. Alone that is." she quickly amended.

  Tom smiled, "You're funny," he said re-engaging neutral and switching off the car's engine. "Okay, I'd love to."

  Maggie smiled back.

  Tom hurried his stride to catch Maggie up. They walked together up the neatly paved pathway, Maggie barely coming up to Tom's shoulder. She removed her keys from her handbag, selected the Yale and inserted it into the lock. She held the door open. "Thanks." Tom said, suddenly for no apparent reason, he'd become nervous. He rubbed his hands together even though he wasn't cold. Maggie pressed for the lift.

  The hallway was quite spacious, Tom thought. He examined the carpet which was dark blue with flecks of white and pink in it, the lift door opened. Tom had never been keen on lifts, but his mind barely registered it. "Nice place this." he said.

  Maggie nodded, "Mine's the smallest type in the block." she said a little self-consciously.

  "It doesn't matter," Tom replied, "this place has got style."

  "I'd reserve judgement if I were you, I've not finished decorating it yet.

  Tom shook his head and smiled. The lift came to a halt and the door slid open. Maggie got out and Tom followed. She walked down the hallway which was made attractively bright by a large rectangular window that ran the length of it. The carpet was identical to the one in the foyer.

  "This is it." she said. A neat brass number fifteen was inlaid into the door's white gloss finish.

  "Come in." she said holding the door open for him.

  Tom stepped inside and looked around the room which again, like the foyer, was more spacious than he'd imagined.

  Maggie drew the curtains and light streamed in through the window. The walls were white and simple, a large green sofa was situated against the back wall and lay directly in front of it was a deep-piled beige rug. The room's carpet was chocolate brown with beige speckles in it.

  "This is really nice Maggie."

  She smiled, "The kitchen's through here."

  Tom walked across to it.

  "It's not very big, but it's functional, ideal for one person."

  Tom nodded. The work surfaces were immaculate.

  "This is the bedroom. It still needs wallpapering. I could do with a new bed really." Maggie said testing the posture with her fingers. I got this for next to nothing from a second-hand shop in town."

  "It looks fine to me." Tom said shrugging.

  "It's okay for now." Maggie replied. "And the bathroom is off the bedroom. It's okay, but it's got a shower instead of a bath. It saves on space, I suppose."

  Tom peered in.

  "I got all this tiled for free as a moving-in present from an old friend ... Look at your face." Maggie said.

  "What do you mean?" Tom asked laughing.

  "I'm boring you to tears, it's just that I'm so proud of this place, that's all."

  "It's lovely Maggie, I really mean it."

  "Thanks." she said turning the light out and closing the door.

  "For what?" Tom asked.

  "I'm not sure really, but thanks all the same." They both looked at one another and laughed. "Take a seat," she said, "would you like a drink, tea, coffee, or I've got some brandy in if you like that?"

  Tom hesitated; "I'll have a brandy please, but only if you're having one."

  "Oh, I don't drink, but I don't mind if you do, and feel free to smoke, I'll get you an ashtray."

  The sofa was just as comfortable as it looked. Tom laid his head back. He could easily fall asleep here.

  Maggie returned; "I need a coffee table next." she said bending down and placing the bottle of brandy and an ashtray at Tom's feet. She handed him a glass, "It's not the right type, I'm afraid." she said scrunching up her nose.

  "Stop being so negative Maggie, this glass is fine. Helen and I drank wine out of mugs for the first six months when we first started living together."

  "Is Helen your wife?" Maggie said getting to her feet.

  Tom nodded before unscrewing the cap on the brandy bottle.

  "Would she mind ... you being here, I mean?"

  Tom shook his head, "She doesn
't care what I do anymore."

  Maggie nodded, "Listen, I'm going to get a quick shower, I've not got much in food-wise, but you can have some soup if you like. Oh sorry, that sounded awful, I'll make you something afterwards, I won't be long."

  "Maggie, I'm a grown man, I'm capable of warming up some soup, would you like some?"

  "Okay, but leave mine in the pan, I'll re-heat it later." she said disappearing into the bedroom.

  Tom poured himself a small brandy, it's smell and taste reminded him of his most comfortable clothing. Come on Tom he said to himself, it's time to go, if you leave now everything'll be fine. Well fine except for the fact that it would look extremely rude leaving now when he'd said he'd make them both some tea. He glanced at his Rolex; ten to eight. Come nine o'clock and you’re out of here he told himself.

  He remembered Maggie's smile the first time he'd ever laid eyes on her. And then he was back in the club, which was now his club, smooching with Helen. When Maggie had come onto the dance floor with spotty dork. He wondered where he was now. Maybe he'd been the one who'd tiled the bathroom for her just on the off chance she'd be overly grateful, and he'd get lucky. He knew one thing; he had to stop being so fucking cynical. He poured himself another small brandy.

  Tom rinsed his bowl in the sink and left it upturned on the drainer. He returned to the lounge just as Maggie emerged from the bedroom carrying her hair dryer.

  "Sorry, the socket in the bedroom isn't working, they said they'd come and fix it today, I'll have to call them again tomorrow." Maggie plugged the hairdryer in and knelt by the fire. "You should've switched the TV on." she said.

  "It's okay, I've been thinking."

  "About what?" she said over the drone of the hairdryer.

  "Nothing interesting, just work."

  "I won't be long." she said pursing her lips and pointing at the hairdryer.

  Tom smiled at her and sat back. He wouldn't mind a place like this he thought before reassuring himself that things hadn't quite reached that stage with him and Helen yet, despite her never really come to terms with the syndicate. Too her credit though she accepted it, but that wasn't the same thing and that affected him and their relationship. These days, all he seemed to do was work, and the little free time he did have was spent in another dimension with his old friend the bottle. First it giveth and then it taketh away or that's what it says in the bible anyway. He recalled the days when he used to really enjoy drinking for what it should be a social pastime. A night out with the lads or with Helen. But these days the drink was much more possessive of him. Somehow it seemed jealous of every outside influence that detracted from its power over him, not unlike a bitter marital partner he pondered. It wanted to consume him, and he was beginning to hate it. No, it was worse than that he was beginning to fear it. Once the club's up and running, I'm going to quit for good he promised himself. He looked back to Maggie. He envied her. He wasn't sure why, but she just seemed so certain about things. Obviously, he didn't know her well enough to make an informed judgement of her, but she just had an air about her. Maybe that's what attracted him to her that and the fact that she was one of the best-looking girls in Burnley. He supposed that helped as well. The dryer whirred to a halt.