How Beautiful Are Thy Feet

by Alan Marshall

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.

  29

  The Liquidator is here … slow up lads, it’s all over … the machines falter … the erratic whine of starved machines … what does it matter … who gives a damn … you can slacken up men, the liquidator is here … off tonight … tonight’s the night … the street corner for you now, Shorty … the street corner tomorrow … and the tramp and the tramp … full up here, son … full up here, girlie … and the tramp and the tramp … Oh lovely Mrs Bourke … Rene, Rene, I am surprised at you … take it easy girls … talk as much as you like … Oh lovely Mrs Bourke … I have got you a job, Rene, don’t cry … yes Mr McCormack … oh do that … do that Mr McCormack … just before we knock off we’ll drink it … a dozen beer … yes Mr McCormack … Mr McCormack’s going to shout … the liquidator is here, who cares … every man except the executives will cease work tonight, see that your machines are in working order … yes, sir … I’d like to see Bert smack my behind today … have you heard this one … don’t laugh so loud … but listen to this … the belt’s off the pulley … leave it, Sadie … come over here, Saide … Ron’s calling you, Sadie … we’re going to have a spot before we go, Mabel … in the cleaning room after … I’m giving system B a fly for a couple of months … there’s nothing doing in the trade, Tom … my boy’s got a job, thank God, but mum says … Gawd, I swallowed a tack laughing … oh give me a home, thump, where the buffalo roam, thump, and the deer and the antelope play, thumpthump … the big press crashes cords … through the dust the voice … the antelope play … leisured steps between racks … when the blue of the night … the Consol Laster’s swan song … Rumble the joyful racks … spit up the dust of years … the sun is shining outside … the trouble is I only have a fiver and Rose is expecting … meets the gold of your tiair … I’ve got the wind up, Mr Clynes, s’elp me God I ‘ave … the liquidator has grey, curly hair … no wages will be paid tonight, each employee will be notified when their pay is available … we’ve broken this office’s heart, Miss Trueman, just look round … put all the books in my car, Mr McCormack … the Factory sobs and sobs … the noise breaks, then jerks away … a hopeless crying for the rhythm of a thousand pairs a day … Blue Henderson died for it … Clarkson gambled because of it … Clynes lost self-respect for it … and Correll, Shorty, Bert, and Ron Hughes … Mabel, Sadie, Leila, and Fanny … the output must be kept up at all costs … the factory sobs and sobs … My baby that I lost … it’s when you’re sad you want a woman … it’s the bloody system makes me fill my lunch-bag in the store room … I’ll chance that fellow in the car … put a hot plate on your stomach … here’s a roughy … the rhythm of a thousand pairs a day …

  The liquidator is here … oh give me a home where the buffalo roam … Mr McCormack has got the beer … you can knock off half an hour earlier, men … Oh lovely Mrs Bourke … pull up the benches, Fanny … lend a hand, Rene … switch off the power, Martin … my little girl, she was in a lather of sweat all night … turn off the current … a last thump … a last clatter … a last scream … a last clackety-clack … the fading shout of thwarted metal … down stairs … grab your bags … will I take this old jumper … what will I do with these slippers … don’t pus
h, Shorty, the stairs are greasy … they’re all here … Miss Trueman’s here … Miss Trueman’s not a snob … Mr McCormack’s here … tins, pannikins, anything will do … fill ’em up … look out, it’s spilling … I can’t stop laughing … aren’t I awful … I’ve never tasted beer before … but today’s different … isn’t the Factory still … everybody got a cup? … here’s to the bottom … good luck … a new job … to you, Mr McCormack … to you, Sadie … and you, Leila … and you, Mabel … and again … here’s luck … don’t worry about jobs … make a ring … catch hands, everybody … hold mine, Mr McCormack … I’ll hold you up, Mr McCormack … we won’t put you over, Mr McCormack … rest you crutch against my foot, Mr Cormack, it won’t slip … you won’t fall over … Should auld acquaintance be forgot … Clynes has tears in his eyes … good Mr Clynes … I like him … I like Correll … I like Miss Trueman … I like Mr McCormack … and never brought to mind … swing it, girls … they only did what they had to do … good Mr Clynes … should auld acquaintance be forgot … I like everybody … they are my cobbers … I have worked with my cobbers on machines … in the days of auld lang syne … now, all together … swing it, lads … my cobbers that I love … for auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne … cobbers … we’ll take a cup of kindness yet … I’ll never forget them … in the days of auld lang syne.. hip, hip, hurrah … hip, hip, hurrah … hip, hip, hurrah …

  The accountant gave a last glance round the office. Miss Trueman, standing beside him, looked steadily at her table. They moved to the door. The accountant turned impulsively and raised his hand in a farewell salute to the Duke of Gloucester. They stepped on to the street.