In the Bleak Midwinter

by Stan Mason

‘So it was you!’ cut in Mitchell quickly believing that he had secured an admission.

  ‘You’re not getting the drift of this, Mr. Mitchell,’ said the banker brazenly. ‘I suggest that you listen carefully. Phyllis Roberts and I did it together. She was intent on blackmailing me into marriage.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ stated Coward. ‘You’ve lost me.

  ‘Motive!’ uttered Sadler loudly. ‘All you have to do is to ask yourselves why she wrote that letter. She did so because I wouldn’t do something she regarded as important to her.’

  Mr. Sadler,’ intruded Mitchell with concern. ‘The allegation is that you’ve committed a serious crime.’

  ‘You’re chasing shadows and losing the substance,’ returned the banker arrogantly. Let’s get down to brass tacks. It all depends on whether you want the money back or not. If you send me to jail, you can forget about the money. The bank will be that much poorer. I want to resign from the bank scot free. I think that’s a fair deal, don’t

  ‘We don’t make deals like that!’ snapped the Chief Inspector. ‘We never make deals like that!’

  ‘Just a moment,’ cut in Coward, placing the interests of the bank before his feelings against Sadler. ‘What do you have in mind?

  ‘I own half the Botallack mine although I’ve taken care that the shares are not in my name at present. The person who owns the other half is a willing buyer. He cannot afford to by me out at present but he’s willing to repay the bank if it offers him a loan to do so. In that way, you’ll get your money back with interest. The suggestion caused the members of the Board to think for a few moments without replying. ‘You can’t get your hands on the shares if you refuse or sell my half of the mine if you don’t agree. The other shareholder could resolve the problem if you grant him a loan.’

  ‘That means we’ve paid for the cost of the whole mine,’ bleated Coward solemnly. ‘If we lent him that amount, the bank would be exposed to one hundred per cent. ‘

  ‘There’s a Government contract for the storage of nuclear waste,’ added Sadler to win them over. And they’ve found uranium there in large quantities. The bank could actually retain the fifty per cent of the mine and recoup the profits. What more could you want?’

  ‘Uranium!’ The Chief Inspector found himself mouthing the word.

  ‘I think you should accept the deal before I change my mind. You see, if I was sent to prison and held on to the shares, I’d be a very rich man when I was released. The bank, on the other hand, would have to write off the loss. Not a very good idea, is it?’

  ‘What guarantee is there that the other shareholder is good for the money?’ enquired Mitchell, already having been won over by the deal.

  ‘None,’ came the reply. ‘But he’ll come good.’

  ‘Is this a ploy to gain more time?’ asked Coward suspiciously.

  ‘I didn’t have to come here at all, Mr. Coward. I knew what you were going to ask me. Miss Roberts told me she had written to you.’

  ‘She told you?’ echoed Mitchell in surprise.

  ‘She said that if I didn’t marry her, she would write to you. If I was guilty, I would have disappeared but I came to resolve the matter.’

  ‘So that you could get away scot free,’ accused the Chief Inspector.

  ‘What do you want? Your pound of flesh or the money for the bank?’ snarled the banker angrily. ‘Do we have a deal, Mr. Mitchell?’

  The senior executive stared at him astutely, glanced at Coward who nodded, and acceded reluctantly. ‘We have a deal, Mr. Sadler on two conditions. One, that your resignation arrives on my desk this afternoon. Two, the other shareholder agrees in writing to repay the loan we shall grant him. Do not return to your branchy. Your personal effects will be delivered to your home later today.

  Sadler smiled amiably, pleased that he wasn’t going to be arrested. ‘Glad to have been of service, Mr. Mitchell. Good day, gentlemen!’

  He left the room leaving them in confusion. For all they knew, they would never see him again... or the money... but they had little choice but to accept the deal and let him go. Little did they know that James, the mining consultant, had died in a motor vehicle accident or that the mine had flooded, killing the Russians. They had been well and truly conned by a master.

  Sadler took the lift to the ground floor chuckling to himself. He walked out of the building a free man strolling down the street at leisure. There were two options that he had pursued when he realised that his banking career was about to end., He thought carefully about Clement Lancaster’s offer of employment in Argentina and had written to him about it. The reply was affirmative offering the banker the appointment, requesting him to fly to Buenos Aires within the next week. It was another new adventure with opportunities to fulfil his ambition. Who knew what he might find for himself in the Argentine! The other matter concerned his welfare in the future. He had contacted Ivan offering to relinquish forty per cent of the shares in the mine at a premium price. He would then repay the total amount of money taken from the bank and have ten per cent of the shares for nothing. He stressed that Ivan would be able to accomplish this with a loan from the bank. If this came about, the Russian would own ninety per cent of the shares. The money could easily be repaid from the fees paid by the Government for their deposit of nuclear waste at the mine. Sadler could always sell his ten per cent of the shares and he was grateful to one man for having the opportunity... Wesley Morris, the man who dressed like a tramp!

  ***

  Ivan entered the swing doors of the Bank of Commerce. On his arrival, the Receptionist rang Mitchell. When he walked into the executive’s office, they stared at him wondering how such a youthful man could own half the mine.

  ‘You are Ivan Obsiovitch,’ greeted Mitchell unceremoniously.

  ‘Why waste your time asking me stupid questions?’ he snapped. ‘You Receptionist told you who I am!’

  The executive coughed nervously in reaction. ‘You own half the Botallack mine, I understand. How did that happen?’

  ‘When Mr. James died... ‘

  ‘He’s dead!’ . This time the reaction was more positive.

  ‘He left me his shares in his Will. I also inherited the bank advance,’ he snapped as though resenting the legacy. Get to the point!’

  Mitchell glanced at Coward who took up the running. ‘Mr. Sadler told us that you want to buy the rest of the shares in the mine. Is that correct?’

  ‘It is. I have a Government contract to store nuclear waste at Botallack another one for uranium. If you want me to take a loan for Sadler’s shares, I’ll agree to it. I’ll repay it over five years.’

  ‘The amount lent on this project by our bank is a very large sum,’ admitted Mitchell. ‘Perhaps too high for you to make the required repayments. I mean what use is the collateral of a mine that hasn’t been worked for fifty years or more?’

  ‘You bankers are crazy!’ growled Ivan irritably. ‘Here’s a mine with two Government contracts and you’re moaning about the lack of collateral!’

  ‘Banking requires a great deal of prudence,’ exclaimed Coward defensively. ‘There are rules to follow. If we loaned money to everyone in this manner... ‘

  ‘I’m not interested in the way you lend money!’ he snarled. ‘If you want to grant me the loan, we’re on. If not, I’m going to get a coffee and decided whether or not to tell Sadler the deal’s off. Then you get nothing! Is that what banking’s all about?’

  ‘How can you act so confidently on such a delicate matter’ asked Coward with an element of wonder.

  ‘Good question, my friend,’ returned the Russian. ‘I’ve worked it out like this. If I owe the bank manager a hundred pounds, he has me in his power. But if I owe him a quarter of a million pounds, then he’s in my power!’ He burst into laughter as he left the room. Sadler was right! They had little option but to deal. It was the
best they could hope to negotiate!

  Ivan left the building and went to a nearby café. The change in his circumstances was beyond belief. Sadler had advised him not to mention the ten per cent of the shares that he was going to keep. The bank didn’t need to know. Some time later, after he had signed the loan agreement with the bank, he would go to Botallack to see his old student friends at the mine. However fate had other ideas.! The trip to London had delayed him by only one single day but it was sufficient to deny him the pleasure of the reunion. He had no idea that, with the exception of Anna, they had all drowned at the mine.

  ***

  Twenty years had passed by... it was now 1984. The radio-active waste contract was still in force and an element of uranium had been extracted albeit the lode was disappointing. Botallack had been closed for over ten years. The bank had long been repaid and Sadler was the owner of two hotels in the Argentine. Ivan now lived in a mansion in Berkshire and owned a well-connected business with its headquarters in London. Mining tin was a thing of the past. North Sea oil had overtaken it bringing ever greater treasures to Britain, and he was in its wake. He stared at the mirror on his desk to reflect the physical change in himself over the period recognising that he had aged badly. This was evident by the number of lines and the dozens of small wrinkles on his face. Lack of exercise had allowed him to grow fat but worst of all was the absence of excitement in his eyes. Life moved slowly now but memories marked the years in retrospect. He no longer had the whim to hunt for triumphs, glories or spoils. It was only possible to take life as it came and every day was a bonus. Destiny demanded retribution and the cruel streak which ran through his life struck him again as mercifully as ever. It was the proverbial skeleton in the cupboard. On day, out of the blue, he received a letter from a solicitor in the west country informing him on a number of matters. Anna had died recently and his son was living with friends. The letter explained that Peter had been killed in the mine disaster. After that, she had left the county. Recently she had returned and passed away. Her last request was that Ivan be found to introduce him to the boy. The phantom of the past had reappeared with a vengeance. Worst still, the boy had learned that his father owned the mine and asked the solicitor whether he could re-open it to mine the tin.

  Ivan’s mind drifted back to the past trying to visualise the faces of those he had loved and befriended. It was difficult to remember them after all these years. Poor Peter was dead... the man who had travelled with him to Plymouth in their effort to gain political asylum. So Peter hd married Anna and they had lived in South Cornwall together. What a sad end for two such promising students! It was such a sad end for all of them! They had such strong ideals but it had all turned to dust! Anna, Peter, Josef, Elsie, Teddy, James... who else was there that he had forgotten? The problem was that no one could determine where happiness ended and misery began in terms of human relationships. People allowed themselves to drift by the conduct of their own rules... some with morals, some without. The fact remained that one became overtaken in life by the advancement of years. It was far too late for him to change now. He had been arrogant and selfish but, when all was considered, he hadn’t really harmed anyone, with perhaps the exception of Anna.

  The letter inspired him to make arrangements to see his son. It was a task he was reluctant to undertake alone. After Sadler departed for the Argentine, Ivan had taken Baker under his wing to assist him. Baker was the one to provide him with moral support on the journey to Cornwall. They had set off and were almost at their destination when a fault seriously affected the car. Having reached the old hotel where the students had first been billeted, Ivan sat on the bed dreamily. A train whistle could be heard to penetrate the Cornish air bringing him back to reality and he looked slowly around the room being transported back all those years. He could almost feel the heat of the flame when he and Josef had arm-wrestled that evening. If only he could go back to the beginning again. He recalled that he had actually driven a coach through a minefield and survived! He had to have been made to do it! If life had taken its rightful course, he would have been building bridges over the Don river or the Volga or working on a mountain scheme in the Urals. Perhaps the philosophy reflected that it was not the individual who was flexible but the fabric and framework of life itself!

  ***

  Baker seated himself at the steering wheel of the old car which had taken them to the old hotel and pressed the horn to indicate his impatience. Ivan heeded the warning diligently. This place was part of his life’s history,... a memory which produced nostalgia in the tiny corner of his mind... but they had to leave! It wasn’t long before they had retraced the journey to the garage to collect their car. They climbed out of the car and the Russian stamped his feet and moved his shoulders to keep warm. As Baker followed the mechanic into the garage to settle the account, Ivan opened the door of the vehicle and settled himself inside waiting for his colleague. In due course, they drove on in silence, scanning the road signs as driving became more difficult and the roads rougher.

  ‘I hope I didn’t take the wrong road back there,’ muttered Baker tiredly.

  Ivan shook his head slowly. It was the first time he had shown any movement for a while in the stuffy atmosphere. The road became steep but the car responded well. The Russian felt more uneasy as time progressed and he kept glancing at his watch nervously as if his answer to the problem lay there. A few minutes later they arrived at St. Just and stopped at the local inn for refreshment. The farm where the boy was staying was located only a short distance away and Ivan’s tenseness increased with every moment. This may have been the place where Anna and Peter had spent some time together. And Josef too! They advanced to the bar where the Russian swallowed two glasses of neat whisky, stimulating himself with Dutch courage for the meeting.

  ‘What am I going to say to him, Baker?’ he asked in desperation as he realised that interface would take place very shortly. ‘What can I say to a young man I’ve never met before? One who claims to be my son!’

  Baker finished his drink before attempting to reply. He knew for certain that the meeting was going to be embarrassing. The sooner it was over the better! ‘At his age you were driving a coach through a minefield,’ he commented. ‘Anyhow, I’ve never had a child of my own so I can’t advise you.’

  ‘How can I explain why I haven’t seen him after all these years?

  Baker shuffled his feet nervously. ‘If he has young Russian blood and arrogance, you have nothing to fear.’

  Ivan’s lack of confidence gradually waned until he took the initiative and tugged at Baker’s sleeve. ‘Come on!’ he urged, trying to instil new order into his mind. ‘Let’s get to it! If I have to think about it any longer, I’ll drive myself crazy!’

  They left the inn to continue their journey, driving slowly up a lonely country lane, covered with small granite chips, to arrive at a small cottage. Had Anna and Peter actually lived there and raised his son? He alighted from the car to approach the dwelling. The path on which he stood had been trodden many times by her. In his mind’s eye, he was standing at the door of the train for his journey to Plymouth when she came over the hill to meet him on the bicycle. It was the last time he had seen her... the last time she would ever see him! How easily his life could have changed had he returned that week/ First love was always the most perfectly love... one which would always be remembered. It found a permanent niche and stayed romantically in the mind.

  He knocked on the cottage door to be welcomed by an old lady who informed him that the boy was waiting for him in an adjoining field. In a few moments, the lives of the man and the boy would irrevocably merge. He walked around the other side of the cottage and the outhouses beyond taking care not to soil his suede shoes or his camel-haired coat from the dust thrown up form the fluttering wings of the chickens there. Shortly he came to the field gate. The boy was sitting on the top bar with his back to him, chewing a stick of straw, his hands res
ting firmly on the top bar to allow him to balance himself. He appeared to be a tall thin lad with dark brown hair and a strong pair of shoulders. Ivan hesitated and stopped in his tracks, almost as though intending to retreat but the boy turned instinctively. The Russian took a deep breath and moved forward again shrugging off the mantle of nervousness. All the concern and torment he had suffered during the journey suddenly disappeared and he felt a surge of excitement and pride, such as he had never known before. Calmly, he approached the gate as the boy faced him. He noticed immediately the similarity in features to himself when he was young. But what pleased him even more was the fact that the boy looked very much like Anna. He put his arm around the boy’s shoulders and stared directly into his eyes. ‘Hello son!’ he greeted, and the chasm of all those past years was united in a single second! However, irrevocably there were three things that were irretrievable... the long time, the lost years and the love lost. And there was no way to get them back... no way whatsoever!

  THE END

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