by AD Hartley
‘Of course, of course… I was under the impression that the documents had all been finalised but I suppose I can wait a few more minutes.’
‘Why don’t you just make the offer to me?’ Carlo asked standing up to stare at the much larger man.
Haverton looked at the boy once more but this time the smile had vanished completely. ‘Because,’ he said with a bite in his words, ‘I would rather do business with someone whom I am able to discuss matters as an equal; or at the very least with Randolph here. I do not mean to squander my time talking business with a child and certainly not the child of Luigi Leodoni. Now I suggest you sign the papers and leave, we have things to discuss.’
Carlo stared at Mr Hill with contempt. What had he meant by “…not the child of Luigi Leodoni?” Carlo was suddenly very defensive and a wave of defiance swept though him. How dare he insult his father? How dare this sweaty, slimy, snail-like man come into his factory and talk to him like that? …his factory. It was the first time he had thought of it like that. His factory…
‘Actually, Mr … sorry, what was your name? Well, it doesn’t matter. Actually, Mister, I’m not signing the papers. And you are in my factory so you can’t really tell me to leave, can you? In fact, it’s you who should leave ‘coz you’re trespassin’ and I know all about that ‘coz Ben’s been spoken to by the police loadsa’ times for tresspassin’. So you’d better leave before they come and take your number and ask you where your parents live and tell you you should be at school!’
Mr Hill looked slightly affronted at being spoken too in such a way but rallied excellently by pretending it had never happened. ‘Well, Randolph, I am actually rather busy, so why don’t you give me a call after the necessary has been completed and we can discuss terms?’
‘Err, hello? Didn’t you hear me? I’m not signing the papers.’
This time Mr Hill couldn’t stop himself retaliating. ‘Of course you are, you stupid boy. You are a child, how could you manage this business? Your fool of a father couldn’t do it adequately when he was alive, so I see no reason why his idiot child could do so now. Why don’t you go with your family back to Italy where you belong?’
Carlo fought down an almost overwhelming urge to start screaming at this horrid man who had come barging into his life like a comic book super-villain, but something told him that childhood petulance would only play into Mr Hill’s hands. He stood up slowly and picked up the contract. Walking around the table to face Randy he smiled as he ripped it up savouring the look on the faces of both adults.
‘I’m going out Uncle Randy. Here’s the contract. Please lock up the factory after you have escorted Mr Hill out. Thank you.’ he said, holding his head up as far as he could. He turned and marched in what he thought was a very professional manner out of the door, along the walkway and towards the huge factory doors. Opening the hatch in the doors he took a deep breath before stepping out into the rain and after closing the hatch behind him he ran as fast as he could through the puddles and out of the gates.
The Last Leodoni
Carlo flew out of the gates and splashed through the rain breathing fast; his mind racing through what he had done. Grabbing the edge of the wall he propelled himself around the corner and, slipping on the wet pavement, straight into his friends who were huddled under the umbrella in the midst of a committee meeting.
Carlo picked himself up from the floor and tried to brush the water off his now soaked jeans. The others, who had remained on their feet, tried their best not to laugh.
‘Hello, Carlo.’ Abi said helping him wipe down the back of his jacket. ‘Are you a free man then?’
Carlo peeked back around the corner to the gates and then gently started to propel the group down the street away from the factory. ‘No, I’m not a free man. And Uncle Randy’s going to kill me.’
‘Why do you still call him Uncle Randy? He’s not even your real uncle, is he?’ Norton asked whilst engaged in a shoving match with Newton for the centre of the umbrella.
‘Coz I’ve always called him that, haven’t I?’
‘But technically it’s not right is it? He’s not even family.’ Norton continued.
‘Ah, but in some cultures the familiar term “uncle” is a sign of respect for an older man in their society. So in many ways it doesn’t matter whether Randy is Carlo’s family or not.’
‘Course it does!’ retorted Norton. ‘We’re not in “Some Cultures” are we? We’re in England, where your Uncle is your Dad’s brother.’
‘Or your Mam’s.’ added Abi who had taken charge of the umbrella and stepped in between the two boys.
Carlo, who was skirting the edge of the brolly and finding it particularly useless, pushed Norton out of the way to find more protection. ‘Look, he’s always been Uncle Randy. I think it’s a bit too late to start discussing whether that’s correct.’
‘Carlo?’ Ben asked from behind The Battle of the Brolly where he was walking, hands in pockets, seemingly oblivious to the rain. ‘Why are you still not a free man? And why is Randy going to kill you?’
Everyone turned to face Ben and then, remembering why they were there, looked back to Carlo. Grabbing the umbrella from Abi, he looked back towards the factory and said, ‘Not here!’ in a strangled whisper before walking off. The others turned back to Ben, who shrugged and set off after Carlo. Newton, Abi and Norton followed behind and somehow all managed to squash back under the umbrella with Carlo as they turned another corner, with Ben in the lead, still oblivious to the rain.
‘Shut the door!’ Abi said as everyone crowded into Ben’s bedroom, the traditional place of wet weather time wasting. Norton, the last to enter, ignored the instruction and flopped onto the bed so Newton got up and shut the door with a sigh. Ben threw some flakes into his fish tank, which now contained one solitary fish from the original school of 5. ‘You can’t really call it a school anymore.’ Carlo had pointed out at the time of the fourth bereavement, ‘It’s more of private tuition thing now.’
Carlo flung himself into a comfy old armchair that Ben had liberated from the skip when his parents had bought new furniture. Abi squashed herself next to him while Newton and Ben joined Norton on the bed, Ben sitting on Norton and elbowing him in the stomach until he caved and actually made room for them to sit down. As order was restored they all settled down and Carlo found all four faces turned silently towards him.
‘Well?’ Abi said, poking him in the ribs after a moment’s silence. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I’m keeping the factory.’ Carlo said quietly.
‘Excuse me?’ Newton asked in surprise.
‘I didn’t sign the papers; I’m keeping the factory.’ Carlo repeated.
This was news that warranted a moment’s thought and if there was one thing the group was good at it was over-thinking something to the point of silliness. Newton appeared to be counting something in his head, Ben was looking out of the window, Abi kept looking at Carlo warily as if he may explode, burst into tears or possibly even song and Norton had the air of someone to whom a great fact was slowly dawning.
‘Yay!’ he said abruptly, shooting both arms into the air in victory. ‘We got ourselves and ice cream factory!’
‘Norton, don’t be insensitive.’ Abi snapped. ‘This is serious.’
‘Yeah… and so is ice cream.’ Norton answered.
‘So you’re not giving it to Randy then?’ Ben asked.
‘Err… no. I’m not sure Uncle Randy’s going to be very happy with me when I get home.’
‘He’s not your Uncle…’ Norton pointed out again. Abi threw stuffed toy at him.
‘I don’t think Randy will be too upset,’ Newton stepped in after finishing his musing, ‘I’m sure he has your best interests at heart.’
‘Yeah, but we spent all that time and money on lawyers and stuff, drawing up the papers and the trust and everything.’ Carlo waved his hands in the air to emphasise how big “everything” was.
‘Why did you change your mind?�
� Abi asked.
‘Have you heard of Haverton Hill?’
‘No, should we have?’ Newton replied, ignoring the pushing and shoving next to him as Ben and Norton wrestled over a pillow.
‘He’s horrible. He talks like he’s got a bag of marbles in his mouth and I think he sweats pure slime… he was all greasy.’
‘Who is he?’ Newton urged.
‘He owns Hill’s Confections.’
‘Oh, them! I like them. Their choco-dollop choc-ice is really nice.’ Norton said, getting up from the floor from where he had been deposited by the much taller Ben, who was now making himself comfortable against the fairly won pillow.
‘Pure slime!’ Carlo repeated to Norton.
‘What’s he got to do with anything, Carlo? Asked Abi.
‘Well that’s the weird thing. He knew I was signing the factory over to Uncle Randy.’ Carlo answered.
Ben clasped a hand over Norton’s mouth before he could say anything and Carlo continued.
‘So he walked into the office today and just offered to buy the whole company from Uncle Randy right there.’
‘Hang on, was that who got out of that big black car?’ Ben asked sitting up and looking serious.
‘Don’t know. It might be. I didn’t see what he was driving. Was it a big fella, stupid hat?’
‘Ah well, we didn’t see who got out of the car.’ Ben answered, ‘We’d scarpered by then obviously.’
‘Why?’ Carlo asked, perplexed.
‘Well everyone knows you’re in trouble when a big black car slowly pulls up outside. I wasn’t hanging around to be arrested and tortured so the Americans could find out where their weapons of mass destruction are.’
‘Why would they be after you lot, you’re not Iraqi.’ Carlo said.
‘My Gran was Italian.’ Norton pointed out.
‘I’m Italian, you twit. They’re not after us.’
‘Well, it’s not my factory they’ve just pulled up outside of, is it?’ Ben said with an accusatory tone. ‘Where’ve you put the Mass Destruction Weapons, Leodoni?’
‘Why’d they want to blow up a church anyway?’ Norton asked.
‘Not that kind of mass, divvy! This kind!’ Ben said, pointing to Norton’s stomach.
‘Oi! I’m just big boned!’ Norton shouted back.
‘You’re a big bone head!’ Ben replied laughing, before receiving the amply proportioned Norton on top of him whilst Newton pummelled both with the now free again pillow.
Abi looked at the play-fight and thought briefly about joining in, before remembering the original point that was now lost to the others. ‘So what does this fella in the big black car have to do with you not giving Randy the factory?’
‘Well,’ Carlo said, noting that the three boys had immediately stopped the fight to listen, ‘when Hill found out that I hadn’t signed the papers yet, he went off on one and started saying all sorts of stuff about my Dad being rubbish and how I was probably rubbish as well.’
‘What’d he say that for?’ Newton asked, still holding his pummelling pillow.
‘Dunno,’ Carlo shrugged, ‘but I get the feeling he knew my Dad. I’m gonna ask Uncle Randy about him.
‘Hewth noth yurr Unclllth…’ came the muffled response from Norton who was currently spread facedown in the duvet with Ben sat triumphantly on top of him, still idly slapping him across the back of the head.
‘Anyway, I got so angry with what he was saying I just flipped and said I wasn’t going to give up the factory. I don’t even remember saying it… One minute I was ready to sign, then this big fat man came in with a stupid hat and then I was running out of the factory wondering what the hell was going on. I’ve right mucked things up!’ he finished, banging his head into the back of the chair.
‘No you haven’t.’ Abi soothed, putting her arm around him. ‘You just need to talk to talk to Randy. You can still sign the papers.’
‘I ripped them up.’ Carlo remembered.
‘They can print new ones, you can still do it.’
‘But that’s just it. I don’t think I want to. I don’t want some stupid fat man running Leodoni’s. I think I want to.’
‘I thought you hated it? Ben pointed out.
‘I do… I did… I don’t know any more. I’m confused… but I just don’t want him to get it and the only way I can do that is by keeping it.’
‘Makes sense.’ Newton said.
‘No it doesn’t.’ Norton interjected. ‘It makes no sense at all. He’s spent the last year telling us he doesn’t want it and now it finally gets to the point when he gets his wish, he changes his mind.’
‘It’s not that simple.’ Abi defended.
‘Anyway, he’s allowed to change his mind, isn’t he?’ Ben added, standing up. ‘Right, I’m hungry.’
‘You’re always hungry.’ Abi said with a smile. ‘But I reckon Mam’ll have some pizzas downstairs. Carlo?
‘No thanks. I better get back and see Uncle Randy. I bet he’s dead angry.’ Carlo sighed before walking out of the door.
‘He’s not your Uncle!’ Norton shouted after him.
‘You OK?’ Randy asked passing Carlo a cup of coffee.
Carlo took a sip to put off saying anything. He didn’t even like coffee that much, a sin according to Newton who seemed to know more about Italian culture than he did, but right now he’d happily drink five cups rather than look up at Randy and have to try and explain his actions. Randy, though, didn’t look that angry. In fact he looked rather concerned.
‘I’m not going to shout, it’s alright. We can get the papers printed up again and we just sign them another day.’
‘Oh…’ Carlo grunted, feeling awkward. ‘I’m not sure I want to anymore.’
‘Really?’ Randy asked looking just as taken back as he did in the office when Haverton Hill had walked in. ‘We’ve discussed this for quite a while now, Carlo. Changing our minds is not something we should rush in to.’
Carlo grimaced at the continued use of “we” but said nothing. He was very aware that this was his decision but that it also affected a great many other people. After a while he stopped pretending to drink the coffee and put it down. ‘That man…’ he said quietly. ‘Did he know Dad?’
‘Well, yes. Quite well in fact. Haverton and your father were the two biggest producers of Ice Cream in this part of the country. And as competitors they made it their business to get to know each other.’
‘Did they like each other?’
‘Err… no, not really.’ Randy answered. Correctly guessing what was on Carlo’s mind, Randy moved to sit next to the young boy on the sofa. ‘Look, Carlo. You can’t take what Haverton said about your dad to heart. He was just annoyed because he had expected to be able to waltz in and buy the company and you stopped him.’
‘I don’t like him!’ Carlo said earnestly.
‘That’s allowed.’
‘…and I don’t want him to get hold of Leodoni’s.’
‘Well that might be more difficult…’
‘I’m not joking, Uncle Randy. He’s never getting it. And if that means I have to be in charge for the rest of my life, just like Dad, then that’s what’ll happen!’
Randy leant back in the sofa and ran his fingers through his greying hair. ‘Well,’ he sighed, ‘The Company is yours, but I am not going to deny that it will mean a lot of very hard work if you want to start it up and run everything and it may not even be possible. If this is the course you want, I will support you, but it won’t be easy.’ Randy stared up at the ceiling and sighed again. ‘This won’t be easy at all.’
‘Thanks.’ Carlo said, quietly.
Randy looked down at his young charge. ‘It’s OK. It’ll work out. Right, we have some work ahead of us then. We need to get everything ready in the next six weeks before you go back to school.’ Carlo nodded. ‘And we need to review the staff portfolio and see how many of the old guard are able to return. It will be difficult. People moved on after the factory closed; they sta
rted new lives.’
‘But if they left because Dad died, why would they come back?’
‘They didn’t leave because Luigi passed away, Carlo.’ Randy chuckled. ‘Your father was well loved, but on whole a company survives the death of the owner.’
‘Why did they leave then?’
‘Hmm… I presumed you knew all this.’ Randy said. ‘The factory was actually in the process of being closed down when your father died.’
‘What? Why?’ Carlo asked, sounding alert at last.
‘Well, there had been an accusation you see; regarding the manufacturing process.’ Randy paused and looked Carlo squarely in the face as if deciding what to say next.
‘What accusation?’ Carlo prompted.
Randy sighed and continued. ‘Someone told the authorities that Leodoni’s were using an illegal ingredient in some of its produce. An investigation that would have shut down the factory for a period was about to start when your father died. In fact that was why he was back in the van. We were trying to bring in enough profits to let us continue paying the staff whilst the investigation took place.’
Carlo didn’t say word, but then realised that he wasn’t breathing. He exhaled slowly trying not to make it look too obvious. ‘An illegal ingredient? That sounds weird.’ he said, thinking about the vanilla ice cream. ‘So what did the investigation find then?’ he asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.
‘It never got started. After Luigi died, we closed the factory, sent the staff home and made plans to open up the factory for the authorities. Then we had to make plans with your family for the funeral and the reading of the will and make sure you were OK. Anyway, by the time we got back round to thinking about it, whoever had made the allegation had withdrawn it. We presumed that it must have been a prank or perhaps a disgruntled customer.’
Carlo felt a wave of relief course through him as Randy continued.
‘Of course by that time the staff had been away for a number of weeks and after your Dad’s will became public knowledge the certainty of Leodoni’s re-opening was less apparent, so the old staff became nervous and many found new jobs. Then there was the kerfuffle over you being the new owner.’