False Report

by Veronica Heley

  ‘They were inefficient and lazy. They had to go.’

  ‘That’s for me to judge, not you. You took advantage of me going away on holiday to get rid of the last of them, didn’t you? You thought, quite rightly, that I wouldn’t make a fuss if you presented me with a fait accompli.’

  ‘Celia was a bad influence. She questioned every change I made.’

  ‘I wonder why. But let’s move on to Maggie. When Celia was responsible for Maggie’s paperwork, everything went like clockwork. Since Celia left, all kinds of mistakes have been made, haven’t they? Errors were made in copying out Maggie’s figures, estimates missed their dates. So whose competence are we calling into question now?’

  Ianthe’s colour was mounting. ‘Genuine mistakes, I’m sure.’

  ‘I suppose you’d say that any errors I made were genuine mistakes, too.’

  ‘Of course.’ A constricted tone.

  ‘What about the errors that you made? Were those genuine mistakes, too?’

  ‘I . . . what errors?’

  Bea sighed. This was like potting sitting ducks. Almost cruel. She pushed back her chair. ‘Ianthe, I could ask you to resign right now—’

  ‘On what grounds?’

  ‘Three times I asked you to give me the day’s password. That’s three warnings.’

  ‘You can’t!’

  ‘Give me one good reason why not.’

  ‘Because . . .’ She twisted her hands together, and yes, there were tears in her eyes. ‘Because I lost my job when Croxtons closed down, and this is a good job. I don’t want to lose it. If I’ve misinterpreted any of your instructions, if I’ve gone too far in trying to protect your interests, then—’

  ‘If I sold out to Jackson’s, would he give you a job?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘If I went into partnership or sold out to Holland and Butcher . . .’

  Ianthe drew in her breath and changed colour. ‘You’ve heard from them already?’

  Bea said, ‘Now we’re getting somewhere. I know you were office manageress at Croxtons before they went bust last year, and that they used to handle all the work for Holland and Butcher. When you applied for the job here, you told me your last employers had gone bust because they didn’t have an upmarket clientele. I can understand why you wanted a job with us, because we do have a certain reputation, and I suppose we might well be considered a fitting partner for Holland and Butcher.’

  ‘I’ve only ever had your best interests at heart—’

  ‘Croxtons went bust in the spring. You of all people knew of the link between Croxtons and Holland and Butcher. Did you ask Holland and Butcher for a job when Croxtons failed?’

  ‘I asked around everywhere. There aren’t that many good jobs around.’

  ‘So you did try Holland and Butcher? But they turned you down.’

  ‘They didn’t have an opening at the time.’

  ‘So you heard about us, applied and were fortunate enough to be taken on. You’ve been in the business for years. You knew how much Holland and Butcher needed to tie in with a reputable employment agency. You saw – probably before anyone else did – that we could replace Croxtons. And you were right. Did you suggest it to Holland and Butcher, or wait for them to come to that conclusion themselves?’

  ‘I might have suggested it. But they were not interested.’

  ‘I’m surprised.’

  ‘They thought they could go it alone, that they didn’t need to tie in with another agency, that their training was so good anyone would snap up their personnel.’

  ‘But over a period of time they realized they did need a guaranteed outlet for their staff. So you watched and waited . . . and made plans. You could see that one day Holland and Butcher were going to come knocking on my door. How could you ensure that, whatever happened, you would come out smelling of roses? Well, you could ensure that all the girls here owed their jobs to you. So you got rid of any older members of staff and recruited new ones whose loyalty was only to you.’

  Ianthe’s colour remained high. ‘I aim for maximum efficiency. You’ve only to look at our turnover to see how successful I’ve been.’

  ‘Which reminds me. How exactly have you managed to increase our turnover so quickly? Normally, the odd client or two drifts in as a result of word of mouth approval. But we seem to have acquired a lot of extra clients very quickly, and an equal number of not-always-satisfactory staff.’

  ‘When Croxtons went bust—’

  ‘You took the precaution of making copies of their client and staff lists? Ten minutes with a memory stick, and you had all the relevant information ready for reuse here?’

  A shrug. ‘Standard practice.’

  ‘Those lists were the property of Croxtons. They could have sold out to another agency, and those lists would then have been a major part of their goodwill.’

  Another shrug. ‘But they weren’t.’

  ‘I don’t like it. It’s not the sort of behaviour I expect from my staff. Now, you’ve kept in touch with Holland and Butcher all this time, I take it?’

  Hands twisted together. ‘Of course. I’ve known everyone there for years.’

  Bea leaned back in her chair. ‘Mr Holland?’

  ‘That old stick? Huh.’

  ‘So it’s young Mr Butcher who’s your contact? The one aspiring to a seat in Parliament? If he’s going into politics, how much time can he afford to give to Holland and Butcher nowadays? Was it his idea to run the firm without a tie-in with an agency? Yes, that was it, wasn’t it? And now he’s finally got round to us. Well, I don’t mind talking to him about it. Some kind of partnership would suit me very well.’

  Ianthe sniffed. ‘But you’re going to retire, aren’t you?’

  Bea sat upright in her chair. ‘Ah. Now we’re getting there. I don’t believe that they want a partnership. I suspect they’d prefer total control. They’d like to buy me out.’ She wondered if this whole mess had started when Max had met up with young Mr Butcher, who knew of the connection with the Abbot Agency . . . and Max had seized the idea and run with it because it would be to his advantage to get Bea to move away.

  Ianthe’s lips tightened. ‘It makes sense.’

  ‘You have a good job here, so what difference would it make to you if I sold out? Ah, I get it. You want security, and you like the feeling of power that managing the agency brings. You think they’ll leave you in post if they buy me out?’

  ‘I am only safeguarding my interests and those of my girls. They’ll be very happy to keep me on. I know their operation so well.’

  Bea sighed. ‘So there it is. You realized some time ago that I wasn’t ready to retire, so you began to sideline me, to make out I was losing my grip on the agency. But I’m a tough old bird and not easily phased out.’

  Ianthe’s eyes brimmed over. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve merely tried to do my duty by you, and you are accusing me . . . Oh, this is dreadful.’

  Bea sighed. She stood up, eased her back. ‘You’ve failed, Ianthe. I’m not selling.’

  FIFTEEN

  Ianthe went bright red with rage. ‘You stupid old cow! Why pretend that you still care about business any more? Why don’t you get out and leave it to someone younger and brighter than you?’

  ‘You’ve misjudged me, Ianthe. I haven’t lost my appetite for work. My big mistake was in leaving too much to you, but that’s all over. I’m worried that we’ve been having so many complaints, and that’s the first thing I’ve got to tackle. If, as I suspect, we’ve been employing badly trained personnel, then that’s going to stop, right now. It may mean turning away some clients for a while. As for Holland and Butcher, I certainly won’t be selling the agency, though I may or may not go into partnership with them . . . I’ll have to see what they’re offering. Either way, the Abbot Agency will continue.’

  Ianthe’s chin came up. ‘You can’t do that. You can’t turn clients away. I’ve built this agency up. Our client list has almost doubled, and the agency is wo
rth far more now than it was when I joined.’

  ‘You’re a good office manageress, Ianthe, and if only you’d stuck to that, you could have had a career with us. As it is, I think you’d better clear your desk and leave right now. I’ll send on any monies due to you.’

  ‘You’re as good as accusing me of sharp practice, and I won’t put up with it.’

  ‘Now you mention it—’

  ‘If you throw me out now, I’ll . . . I’ll sue you for wrongful dismissal!’ She got to her feet, twanging with rage. ‘And what’s more, all my girls will leave with me!’

  Oliver came in and shut the door behind him. ‘I’ve told the girls in the office that Ianthe is not feeling too well and needs to go home. Here’s her handbag, and her jacket.’

  ‘Has she got a memory stick in her bag? I hope she hasn’t been copying our records, but she did that when she left Croxtons, so we’d better check.’

  Ianthe screeched. ‘How dare you! As if I would . . .! I wish now that I’d thought of it, but I’d no idea you were going to throw me out! After all I’ve done for you!’

  Oliver rummaged in Ianthe’s bag. ‘No memory sticks here. I’ll take her out into the garden and up the outside stairs. Then she can go straight out through the house to the front door so that she doesn’t need to answer any questions from the rest of the office staff.’

  ‘I’ve every right to talk to my girls and—’

  ‘Put your point of view?’ said Bea. ‘Tell them you’ve been sacked for disloyalty and sharp practice? Why don’t you resign and leave quietly? That way what’s been said between these four walls will remain that way . . . Unless you try to sue for wrongful dismissal, in which case . . .’ Bea pulled the drawer of her desk further out, revealing her tape recorder in action.

  Ianthe ground her teeth. ‘If you sack me, I’ll tell the world all your secrets!’

  ‘What secrets?’

  ‘That you’ve been harbouring an escaped murderer, who killed an under age girl from his school—’

  Bea spurted into laughter. ‘What nonsense.’

  ‘I’ve seen him with my own eyes!’

  Bea shook her head. ‘The police have cleared my guest of all charges, so I’d be careful what you say, if I were you. Remember that slander can bring a heavy fine.’

  Ianthe was sobbing in great gulps. ‘Your threats carry no weight with me.’

  Bea said, ‘If you’ve left any other personal items in your desk, I’ll see they’re sent on to you.’

  Ianthe screeched, ‘You ungrateful, dried up old cow! No wonder both your marriages ended badly, which is no surprise to me, seeing how badly your half breed of a son has turned out!’

  Bea gasped.

  Oliver’s face was set in stone. ‘May I show you out?’

  Ianthe snatched her handbag and jacket and stormed out into the garden and up the stairs, with Oliver following her.

  Bea sank down into her chair, and closed her eyes.

  She was shaking. Phew! Lord, that wasn’t very nice. I remember You got shouted at a lot, by all sorts. Well, well. You survived. And so will I. Breathe deeply. In . . . and out. That’s it. Don’t think of anything at all, except breathing in . . . and out.

  She heard the front door slam far above. After a little while Oliver opened the door from the main office and came in. ‘All right?’ he said. His self-control was, as always, admirable.

  She held up her hands. ‘I’m still shaking, but I’ll live. How about you?’

  He grimaced. ‘That woman is poison, isn’t she? I seem to remember someone saying once that bricks and stones may break our bones, but hard words never will.’

  Yet a pulse beat fast, too fast, on his temple.

  She tried to laugh. ‘I feel as if I’ve been ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer.’

  ‘I’m told it does a woman good to have a cry on these occasions.’

  She smiled, shook her head. Laughed. Stood up and brushed herself down. ‘I’m all right.’ She turned off her recording device. ‘I’d better see how many of the other girls want to leave now Ianthe’s gone.’

  ‘Before you go. Jeremy caught me going through the house. He wanted the name of a solicitor. I told him the name of the one you use and pointed him in the direction of the telephone.’

  Bea nodded. ‘Good.’

  ‘Oh, and Celia’s arrived. She’s in with Maggie now, catching up on all the gossip. Is she to work for Maggie, or to take Ianthe’s place?’

  ‘I had thought that she’d help Maggie out, but now . . . Do you think she’d agree to stepping into the breach, to help us get the agency back on track? I know she doesn’t want the responsibility of the top job, but if she could only run the office till we can advertise for someone else, it would help us out of a hole. After that . . . who knows?’

  Bea steadied herself, leaning against her desk. Her own pulse was still too fast. Calm down, Bea.

  ‘I’ll go and speak to her about it now. I’ll have to find at least one more person to work in the office straight away. Perhaps they could do Maggie’s work part-time as well? We need someone new, someone who’s not been contaminated by working with Ianthe. Would you draft an advertisement for the post of office manageress, Oliver? We must try to get it into the papers today and interview as soon as possible.’

  She left Oliver working at her desk and went into Maggie’s office to speak to Celia. Twenty minutes later she entered the main office, and every face turned towards her. The phones were ringing, unregarded. Hardly any fingers were on keyboards.

  A buzz of speculation died away. The only sound was that of the fans which were working hard in this sultry weather.

  Bea spoke directly to the girl who’d joined them most recently, the one who had found Maggie’s work in her waste-paper bin. ‘Anna, would you switch all calls through to the answer machine for a while, as I have an announcement to make?’

  Anna did so, then slid back into her place.

  Bea took a deep breath to steady herself. ‘Owing to a difference of opinion as to the way I run this agency, Ianthe has resigned her position and left.’

  Dead quiet. The odd glances were exchanged. Some lips were thinned.

  Bea said, ‘There have been rumours that I’m about to retire and sell the agency. They are false. I am not about to retire, nor to sell up. The Abbot Agency has always had a name for discretion and service. It is our aim to arrange for the best personnel, trained to the highest standards, to accommodate our clients’ needs. I believe we may have been falling down on this of late.

  ‘With my son’s help, I plan in the next few days to go through the complaints files to see if the staff we’ve sent out to jobs recently are in any way at fault. If they are, then we will not be using them again. What’s more, we must be more rigorous in checking the CVs of anyone who applies to us for a job in future. Is that clear?’

  Sideways glances. Some reluctant nods. Anna had her eyes down, doodling on a pad. Bea thought that Anna seemed less likely than the others to follow where Ianthe had led.

  ‘Are there any questions?’

  Some fidgeting. A lot of frowning. A heavy-set girl spoke up. ‘Suppose you do find a single complaint against someone on our books, does that mean we’re not to give them any more jobs?’

  ‘A single complaint can be investigated. It may not be substantiated. Bring any such to me. Two strikes: he or she is out, and we don’t use them again.’

  ‘But there’s never enough well-trained staff to fill all our vacancies.’

  ‘I know. We will have to decline some jobs if we can’t fill the vacancies with people we can trust to do the job properly.’

  ‘But –’ this was the heavy-set girl again – ‘Ianthe set us targets and promised to give us a bonus in September if we’ve met them. If we’re to turn down business, we’ll never meet our targets and bang go our bonuses.’

  A murmur of approval.

  Ianthe had promised them a bonus in September? That was a good way of ensuring their loyal
ty through a changeover, wasn’t it? Ah, but why September? Was Bea supposed to have retired by then?

  ‘Scrap the targets,’ said Bea. ‘Good work deserves a rise in salary. Yes, we may handle fewer cases in the next few months, but that means we can give better service. In the short term we may not make so much money, but in the long run—’

  ‘Well, I don’t think much of that.’

  ‘Nor I.’

  ‘Stuff that for a lark.’

  Bea noted the girls who were going to follow Ianthe into the wilderness. Bea thanked God that they were the ones most closely allied to Ianthe, and therefore the ones she least wanted to keep. ‘If you wish to leave the agency, then please do so now, this minute. Clear your desks and go. I will send on any wages due.’

  She waited. The heavy-set girl and one with a face that would sour cream got up and, with much huffing, extracted their personal effects from their desks and made their way out of the office and up the stairs to the street. From the floor above came the faint sounds of a melody, swelling and fading. Jeremy on his keyboard, of course.

  Bea looked around those who remained. There was one more woman she would like to dispense with, but she could work with what was left. ‘I take it the rest of you wish to remain. You earn a good wage, and if we can get the agency back on track, the future is rosy. Meanwhile, if you come across someone applying for a job whose credentials look dicey, please refer them to me or to Celia. Yes, Celia – whom I’m sure most of you will remember. For those who don’t know her, she used to work for us in the past, and I considered it a sad day when she left. She will be acting manageress for the time being, though—’