by Ben Cheetham
“Oh right, so it’s okay for you to lie and keep things from her, is it?”
“This is totally different, Julian. Sometimes you have to lie to protect people.”
“Yeah, well maybe that’s what I’m doing.”
“So Mia Bradshaw’s still alive.” Robert’s drink-shot eyes stared intensely into Julian’s. “Where is she?”
“How should I know if she’s alive or where she is?”
“You just implied that you’re protecting her.”
Julian tried to shrug off his dad’s hands, but their hold on him tightened almost painfully. “This isn’t a fucking game, Julian.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? Because if you really do, you’ll tell me the truth.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
Robert studied Julian a moment, then said gravely, “I hope so, because this is the kind of thing that wrecks lives – and I’m not just talking about one life, Julian. If something happens to Mia Bradshaw because you didn’t do the right thing, you’ll carry that with you forever.”
Do the right thing. Those words throbbed in Julian’s head like an anxious heart. Doing the right fucking thing’s all I want to do, he felt like yelling. He brought his arms up between his dad’s and thrust outwards, knocking his grip loose. Then he turned for the door. “Wait,” said Robert, his voice almost imploring. “Just tell me one thing. Tell me you didn’t do anything with her.”
Julian frowned over his shoulder at him. “Do anything like what?”
“Like have sex with her.”
“What kind of question’s that?” Julian’s voice rose in angry indignation. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck do you think I am? She’s fifteen.”
With a worried glance in the direction of the living-room, Robert raised his hands to quieten him. “Okay, okay, I see you’re not lying now. I’m sorry, Julian, but I had to ask.”
“Why?”
“Because if they do pull her out of that river, they have ways of telling if she had sex before she died.”
“Even if we had done anything, do you really think I’d care about that if she’s dead?” Julian stabbed a finger at his temple. “You can’t be right in there. Saying such twisted things.”
“I’m only trying to look out for you.”
Julian echoed Mia. “Well I don’t need looking out for.”
Robert pulled an incredulous face. “Have you looked in the mirror recently?”
“Have you?” Julian shot back. With a shake of his head, he made for his bedroom. He flopped onto his bed, pulling out his mobile phone. “Ring, Jake. Ring, ring,” he muttered, as if by force of will he could make him do so.
Chapter 15
Second by second, minute by minute, the day passed. Jake didn’t ring. The police found nothing other than mud and rubbish in the river. Julian sat down to an excruciating Sunday lunch with his parents. His mum still seemed half-doped. His dad was more interested in the bottle of wine he opened than eating or conversation. Julian shoved the beef, potatoes and all the rest of it down his throat and excused himself from the table. As the sun set over the forest, turning the trees into flame, he fell into his usual troubled sleep. By the time the next morning rolled around, he must’ve killed Mia a dozen times.
Julian checked his phone and the TV, but there was still no news on either front. He dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. His dad was at the breakfast table, looking a little jaded, but immaculately shaved and dressed. When he saw Julian, he shook his head and said, “Go and put a suit and tie on.”
“What for?”
“I’ll explain in the car. Hurry up and get changed.”
On the way to the factory, Robert kept licking his lips as though his mouth was dry. Julian would’ve put it down to the drink, if he hadn’t sensed an edginess about him, a preoccupation. “So why am I dressed like this?” he asked.
“I’m meeting with a buyer from a High Street chain-store today to discuss a possible order,” said Robert. “I want you to sit in on the meeting. Not say anything, mind you, just sit there and listen.” His tongue ran over his lips again. “If we can clinch this order, it’ll really turn things around for us.”
“And what if we can’t?”
Robert said nothing, but his face said plenty.
When the buyer arrived at the factory, Robert briefly introduced him to Julian and then the business talk started. To Julian the meeting seemed interminably long and tedious. There was lots of talk from his dad about the history of Harris Shoes, the dedication of their employees, the outstanding quality of the shoes themselves. And then there was lots of talk from the buyer about the company he worked for, its reputation for fair dealing, its general buying policies, and so forth and so on. In the end, though, it boiled down to one thing – price – but neither man seemed willing to talk figures. After listening for what seemed like hours, Julian had to grit his teeth to stop himself from bursting out, “Jesus, can’t we just cut the bullshit and get down to it.”
After they’d shaken the buyer’s hand and waved him off, Robert turned to Julian and said, “That went well, don’t you think?”
He shrugged. “Seemed like a lot of talk that didn’t amount to anything. I was expecting you to try to get him to commit to an order, but you didn’t even discuss prices.”
“Patience, Julian. You can’t do business until you’ve done the small talk. It’s a bit like dating. If you want the relationship to last, you don’t jump straight into bed.” Julian almost flinched when, with a smile, his dad reached to pat his shoulder. “I’ll bet they didn’t teach you that at uni.”
Julian spent the rest of the day going through the orders book with his dad, listening to him talk about his relationship with his buyers. He knew every one of them on first name terms, knew their wives, sent them cards and presents at Christmas and on their birthdays. “It may seem like a lot of bother, but these little extra efforts really pay off in the long-run,” he said. There was an animation about him, an excitement that Julian had rarely seen before. He’d built the business on sheer hard work. It was his baby, and his love for it was written all over his face. A few years earlier it would’ve been enough to make Julian jealous, but not anymore. He was past that now. And besides, it was clear that if he wanted to get closer to his dad all he had to do was put his heart and soul into the business too. “You know, Julian,” Robert went on, “I had my doubts, but I’m starting to think maybe you were right, maybe what this business needs is new blood, a fresh perspective. Maybe together we can drive it on to new heights.”
“For any build-up strategy to work there needs to be a strong flow of new orders in the pipeline.” The line was straight out of Julian’s business textbooks. He said it more because, faced with his dad’s sharp U-turn of opinion, he felt a responsibility to reciprocate his enthusiasm than because he believed it.
Robert clicked his fingers in assent. “Exactly. And that’s what I want you to do – find new markets, new buyers.” He talked on eagerly about all the possibilities they could explore, but Julian was only half-listening. The other half of him was thinking about Mia and Jake. He suddenly found himself longing to be back in the ‘Cripples’ storeroom, shut away from the world and himself. By the end of the day he felt exhausted from listening to his dad. But he wasn’t ready to go home and face the nothing of the evening. Neither did he want to risk going out drinking. Knowing what this town was like, there was every chance word had gotten out about his involvement with Mia.
When his dad offered him a lift home, Julian shook his head. “I’m going to hang around here a while and have a good think about everything you’ve said, maybe come up with some ideas of my own.”
Robert’s eyebrows lifted. “You sure? It’s been a long day and you look tired. There’s no need to burn yourself out trying to prove your commitment.”
“I’m fine, Dad, honestly.”
Robert stood by the door, keys in hand. “Maybe I should stick around too. We could brainstorm together.”
/> “I don’t need to talk, I need to process.”
“Process?”
“Yeah, I feel a bit overloaded with information. I need to let it all sink in.”
“Why can’t you do that at home?”
“’Cos I’ll just end up staring at the TV or messing around on my laptop. There are no distractions here.” Still, Robert hesitated to leave. Julian didn’t doubt his concern was genuine, but he also had a sneaking suspicion that he was reluctant to trust him in the factory alone. “You should get going. It’s already late. Mum’ll be wondering where you are.”
Julian guessed that would do the trick – and it did. His dad tossed him a bunch of keys. “Just make sure you lock up and put the alarm on.” He gave him a final look that was half pleased, half uncertain, before leaving.
Julian wandered around the factory. He’d never been there alone before. There was a kind of unnatural hush over the place, as though the machines were sleeping. A thought came to him. He returned to his dad’s office and searched his desk drawers. In the bottom one there was a tumbler and a bottle of whisky. He poured himself a large one and sat sipping it in his dad’s leather swivel chair. His gaze moved around the office. A slight thickness came into his throat at the sight of a framed photo of his mother in her bridal dress, her smile as big as a full moon. He’d almost forgotten what she looked like before she got ill. He couldn’t bear to look at the photo for long. His eyes dropped away from it, coming to rest on a filing-cabinet. He approached the cabinet and opened it. Inside was nearly two decades worth of business accounts. He took out files containing the balance sheets for the previous five years and returned to the desk to peruse them, quickly and gladly losing himself in the figures. Hours passed, night came down. He worked backward through the years, occasionally pausing to sip his drink or scribble notes. When he was done, he took out more files and worked through them too. Darkness was wearing away to the blue edge of dawn as he returned the last of the files to the cabinet and dropped, yawning, into the swivel chair. He only closed his eyes for a second, and then suddenly he was waking to find his dad frowning down at him. He sat up with a jolt, his neck stiff from the chair, his mind still reeling from the dream. He blinked the dark images away.
“You’ve been here all night,” said his dad, stating the obvious.
“I started working on something and lost track of time. I meant to come home when I finished, but I guess that, well, I must’ve fallen asleep. I usually don’t go to sleep so easily.”
Robert glanced at the almost empty bottle of whisky. “Looks like you had some help.”
“Sorry about that. I needed something to keep me going. You don’t mind, do you?”
“That depends. What were you working on?”
“I went through the balance-sheet accounts to look for any possible savings.”
Robert’s frown gathered intensity. “And what did you find?”
“It’s not rising supply costs or even lack of orders that’s killing us, it’s overheads. You see, overheads accumulate on companies the way barnacles accumulate on the hull of a ship. And, from time to time, they need to be scrapped off, just as barnacles need-”
“Enough of the business-school stuff,” broke in Robert. “Get to the point.”
Julian gathered up his notes, motioning for his dad to look at them. “Here’s the thing, year on year our spending on stationary, telephone bills, insurance, equipment repairs, rent, interest on business loans and so on has risen. I’m certain we could make significant savings in all these areas.”
Robert thumbed for Julian to get out of his seat, sat down and scanned through the notes. His frown gradually relaxed into a smile. “This is really good work, Julian. I’m…well, I’m impressed.”
Julian was surprised to find himself blushing with pleasure at his dad’s praise. There was a genuine enthusiasm about him as he said, “So, I guess now I should start work on a strategy for reducing overheads.”
Robert nodded. “But that can wait until tomorrow. Now you should go home and get some rest.”
Julian was about to tell his dad that he’d rather get to work right away, but at that moment his phone vibrated in his pocket. He snatched it out. ‘1 message received’ read its screen. The text-message was from Jake. ‘meet me at mill asap and bring food’ it said.
“Anything interesting?” asked Robert.
“Just a friend wanting to meet up.” He returned the phone to his pocket. “See you later then.”
As Julian turned to leave, Robert said, “Hey, Jules. Here, catch.” He tossed him his car keys.
“But how will you get home?”
“I’ll sort something out. And next week we’ll sort you out a new car.”
An expression of pleased surprise flitted across Julian’s face. “Seriously?”
Robert smiled. “Seriously.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“I’m the one who should be saying thanks. Truth is, I’ve let things here slide,” Robert admitted. A certain sadness came into his smile. “What with your mother and everything else that’s been going on.” He heaved a breath, breathing away the sadness. “Anyway, from now on things are going to be different. We’re going to make this company great together, aren’t we?”
Julian felt his dad’s weight of hope in him with the same reality that he felt the weight of tiredness in his body. He forced a smile. “Of course we are.”
Chapter 16
As Julian drove home, his phone vibrated again. This time it was Eleanor ringing. His thumb hovered over the answer button, but didn’t press it. “Sorry, Eleanor,” he murmured.
When he arrived at the house, his mum was in the front-garden. From a distance, at a glance, she almost looked her old self – the self from the wedding-photo. It gave him a lift to see her pruning her beloved roses. She waved to him and called, “Where were you last night?”
“Working.”
“Working? What’s so important you had to work on it all night?”
“I’ll tell you later. I’ve got to be somewhere. How are you feeling?”
“Better than I have done in ages. I think the seizure must’ve jiggled some life into me.”
Julian changed into jeans and a t-shirt, and grabbed some cheese, bread and a couple of cokes, before heading into the woods. Despite his tiredness, he walked quickly, almost running. There was no sign of Jake outside or inside the mill. “Jake, where are you?” he called. After a minute or two, the boy emerged from the trees and approached him. He seemed to have grown even leaner and hungrier looking, less human, more like the tattoo on his chest.
“Just making sure you’re alone,” he explained. “You brought the eats?”
Julian handed Jake the food. Almost savagely, he tore at the bread with his teeth, belching as he swilled it down with coke. “So have you found Ginger?” Julian asked eagerly.
“I saw her go into The H-Bomb a couple of hours back.”
Julian frowned. “In that case, why get me to meet you here?”
“I needed to fetch some of my things.”
“But she could’ve left The H-Bomb by now.”
“No she couldn’t.”
“How do you know that?”
“’Cos I do. You got a car?”
“No. Well, yes, but it’s my dad’s. Haven’t you got one?”
“Sure, I can get hold of one easily enough, if you want to risk driving around town in a stolen car.”
“Okay, we’ll use my dad’s, but you’ll have to meet me in the street out front of my house.”
“Why? Don’t you trust me?”
“It’s not that,” said Julian, although it was partly that. “If my mum sees you, she’s going to start asking all sorts of questions.”
Julian explained where he lived, then hurried back there. His mum and Wanda were in the kitchen, making lunch. He skirted around the side of the house, careful not to be seen. As arranged, Jake was waiting outside the gates. “Nice fuckin’ place,” he said as he duck
ed into the car, displaying a sullen resentment that reminded Julian sharply of Mia.
“Where to?”
“Just drive, rich boy. I’ll tell you as we go.”
“Don’t call me that,” retorted Julian, accelerating harder than he meant to in his irritation.
“Why not? That’s what you are, isn’t it? That’s what I’m gonna be n’all one day. A big, fat rich fuck.”
Julian sighed, not for himself, but for Jake. He couldn’t imagine him ever being any of those things. Jake directed him to the north side of town to a street of dirty-grey houses and flats, many of which had metal-plates welded over their windows. “Stop here,” said Jake. Julian pulled over outside a block of maisonettes fenced off and ready for demolition. Opposite was a three-storey house whose windows were barred and blacked out. The front door, which looked heavy-duty enough to withstand a battering-ram, had a cartoon style H-bomb painted on it. There was a security camera above it. Several big, low-rider motorcycles were parked in the yard. Jake stuck his head out the window and whistled. A woman in a short denim skirt and high-heels emerged from the shadow of the maisonettes, slid through a gap in the fence and tottered over to the car. Julian recognised her as Weasel’s girlfriend.
“Still in there, is she?” asked Jake.
“Well I ain’t seen her come out.” The woman looked admiringly at the car, and said to Julian, “Hello again.”
“Do me a favour, Cookie, don’t tell Weasel about this,” said Jake.
Cookie curled her lip. “You don’t have to worry about that, babe, I won’t tell him nothin’. You just find out where Mia is. ’Cos I know as sure as I’m standing here in front of you that she’s not done anything crazy like what they’re saying.” With a wink at Julian, she turned and teetered away.
Jake thumbed at the maisonettes. “Better park around back. We’ll get noticed fast if we stay here.”
Julian did as Jake said. Uneasy about leaving the car, he followed him to a boarded-up doorway. Jake pulled back the already loose board and they squeezed inside. “Don’t touch anything if you can help it,” he said. “Junkies use this place. There’s used needles all over everything.”