‘Ladies, you’re very welcome,’ he said in a distinctive Ulster burr. ‘I’m Jackie. Jack Dunleavy and this is Barry Standish. You’ve no doubt heard of his Next-Day Deliveries operation, yes?’
Margaret nodded, Phyllis didn’t.
Jackie continued, waving a hand in the direction of a third man, ‘Unfortunately Jimmy Dunne has got tied up elsewhere but Will Haverstock from International Distribution has agreed to take his place.’
Margaret replied, looking directly at Haverstock. ‘Oh yes, I’ve met Dunne and of course, you…before.’
Haverstock, for a moment looked uneasy having being caught within Margaret’s glare. Her focus bored deep down into his eyes. Dunleavy meanwhile, had hardly broken stride.
‘Well actually ladies the truth be told we felt that rolling out the full consort’um, our wee area collective, so to speak, would have been a bit O–T–T. Far too conspi’schus, if you see what I mean.’ He tapped his nose.
Phyllis, who had been studying him, had allowed a flood of thoughts to wash over her; none concerning underwear. The taping of the nose added further intrigue. But over and above, she was more amused by his seeming inability to pronounce some of the ‘big’ words he had used….
Margaret was also considering that even if he could have pronounced consortium, it wasn’t the right word for what these guys were. Cartel would have better described what Dunleavy had run all of his life.
As Alice Underwood went about the business of serving refreshments, a polite, yet guarded, conversation developed around the rectangular table. Jackie Dunleavy was positioned at the top end with Phyllis to his left. Standish sat opposite her. Alice, now re-rolled to be the minute-taker sat at the far end of the table beside Haverstock, who faced Margaret.
With the small talk reaching its natural conclusion and after a convenient moment of silence, it was Margaret who spoke first. ‘Well now gentlemen, I’m sure we don’t need to waste any further time on the weather, wildlife or indeed, exorbitant as it is, the cost of diesel. So, how can we help you today?’
Caught slightly off guard, Dunleavy replied, ‘Oh, aye, dead on.’ Head bowed, he hesitated slightly. ‘Now then girls, where are we?’
Margaret and Phyllis looked at each other and smiled. Both were thinking the same thought, but chose not to challenge his opening display of old world chauvinism. Continuing, he was oblivious to the girls’ show of distaste. A glance sideways also told Margaret that Alice knew exactly what was going on with them.
‘Margaret. You said that you had already met Bill and Jimmy. For us, all of us, at thon time, things were, well, how can I put it... brave-an’-tight like.’ Haverstock appeared poised to continue with the opening offensive. Standish had obviously tapped him under the table. He slouched back into his chair. He alternated his sight lines between Margaret and Dunleavy. Margaret continued to read her notes. An increasingly pompous Dunleavy continued with his ‘sermon’.
Margaret, on noticing that her sister’s jaw line was showing obvious signs of teeth being ground had begun to think, ‘Oh good grief, she’s not going to punch him, this early?’ Dunleavy though, was going to have his say. His delivery was not only boring the arses of everyone around the table, but was completely missing its intended target. Phyllis was spell-bound by Dunleavy’s grammar. His overuse of a scented deodorant was catching her throat as well.
‘I mean, Ricky was ripping the arse out of the area and—’ Dunleavy stopped as he caught Margaret’s sly smile and an obvious shaking of her head. It seemed to have pressed a button. Leaning forward over the table with his arms resting on his fists, he upped the volume. ‘You think this is funny love?’
He straightened himself and got to his feet. His legs had rocked his chair back. It recovered. A couple of strides away from the table and he had repositioned at the window. He turned and glared back towards what had become a silent table hosting a gathering of puzzled faces. He slammed a palm down onto the sill. Then, looking at Phyllis, he said, ‘For fuck’s sake, some of the rates your bloody husband was pumping out was suicidal. He was a fucking madman, a madman!’
Flushed, and with veins pumped, he took an obvious, overly dramatic intake of breath. Then, looking directly at both sisters, in a hushed, yet still intimidating, tone he offered an insincere apology for the profanity. Quietly he retook his seat. But still, he wasn’t finished. ‘Phyllis love, it was our livelihood, our employee’s jobs that had been put at stake. That’s why we, all of us, had to take action. Just had tae. Yes it’s true, we’ve deliberately targeted the Cardinali customer base. Of course quite a few of them customers that your Ricky had stole—’
Phyllis’s expression cut him off in mid-sentence. Dunleavy paused, re-adjusted.
‘Taken from us, were, well…’ He stopped. It was as if a killer announcement was about to be unleashed. Leaning forward a sly sneer, he said, ‘We wouldn’t have touched some of them-un’s whey a bargepole. So, we left them with youse.’ He then asked Margaret directly, ‘Did they ever pay youse love?’ The sneer opened into a victory smile. Then just as quickly it reverted as he continued, ‘Glad to see the arse-end of them, we was as a matter of fact.’
Phyllis remained resolute. Margaret wondered how long her sister could take what was obviously a crude attempt at belittling. There was no stopping him. Still both his cohorts sat rigid, heads bowed. They had become a side-show. Neither it seemed had dared make eye contact with the sisters, or indeed their self-appointed leader, at least while his rant continued.
‘No, my loves, we had created a premier list of accounts. Them, that we was determined to take back. And with that, it was job done. OK, it has cost us mind, all of us. But at least now it’s youse who are now left with the crap. I mean you cannea say that we didnae warn ye. But no, no, good old Ricky, he had tae keep at it, picking at us, at the big boys. That’s us, if ye didnae know.’
As the wall clock ticked, Phyllis and Margaret had found themselves feeling more than a little pressurised to the point of intimidated. Both were weighing up their options; punch him in his over-sized gut and clear off, sit back and absorb more of the sermon according to Dunleavy, or interject with the Cardinali take on things.
The trouble was that much, probably all of what Dunleavy had been voicing, was true. After what felt like an eternity, it was Phyllis, picking herself off the ropes, who made the sister’s first move.
Elbows on the table, hands steepled Phyllis’s chin rested on her index fingers. Slowly she straightened herself. She seemed taller sitting down. Then, having unclasped her hands she dropped them onto the table with a slap. Everyone jumped to attention. Sweeping the table with a slow determined gaze, she stopped as the eyes of Dunleavy and hers met. Adopting a measured pace without even a hint of a tremor Phyllis Cardinali opened her book.
‘I’m sure you’re feeling a certain sense of triumphalism having got that load of shite off your chest Mister Dunleavy? Oh, and by the way, in case you’ve forgotten, perhaps I should re-introduce ourselves.’ She paused, and re-scanned her audience, ‘I’m Mrs Cardinali, and this is my sister and business partner, Ms Curtis. I’d appreciate being addressed as such. Miss Underwood, would you be good enough to amend the minutes accordingly, please? Oh, and never worry about all the previous ‘effing and blinding stuff’ and the grammatical gaffs. Yeah, it sort of added character – if not a bottom-of-the-barrel dimension to these proceedings.’
Margaret in the meantime had buried her head back within the files as all the participants glanced nervously at each other. Overall, Phyllis’s eloquence had had the effect of allowing the pendulum to swing a little towards them. But she wasn’t finished. She hadn’t even started.
Simultaneously she had swivelled her chair so that she was now facing Dunleavy directly. She leant forward while raising her hand. Margaret drew breath.
Then Phyllis paused. She sat back. She crossed her arms, and her legs, she touched the broach on her lapel. She could see the blood rising up Dunleavy’s neck. Margaret hoped t
hat her sister could contain her obvious anger. She too wanted Dunleavy to be put back into his box.
Still exuding an outward calmness Phyllis continued, ‘Now, listen here. Neither I, nor my sister, have come here to be lectured by you, or any other of your jumped-up cronies. What’s done is done, and,’ she glanced back across the table, ‘what’s past is past.’ She slapped the table again, her audience jumped again. ‘Understand?’ Another pause followed. ‘So, if you wish to carry on with this excuse for a meeting I suggest that you all adopt a civilised manner. That being the case, we are happy to contribute. If not...’ She shrugged her shoulders while holding her pause long enough to control the meeting. ‘And make no mistake, we’ll ensure that your wee cartel will be exposed and then, you really will get priced out of your cosy market place. What you say to that then Jackie, my auld boyo?’
With admiration and a flood of pride bursting for her sister’s response, Margaret sat back. She waited. Dunleavy upped and retreated back to the window. A monograph handkerchief wiped at his brow and neck. So it was the tall fit and sharply dressed Haverstock who spoke.
‘Mrs Cardinali, please. Please, there is no need...’
‘No need? So okay then, what’s next Mister Haverstock? You tell me?
Rattled, he also now fingered the neck of his pink branded shirt. Pulling it away from his neck he finally spoke again, ‘Mrs Cardinali... Phyllis, please understand. Mister Dunleavy, Jackie, was merely trying to set the scene. Be up front about our activities, our frustration before...’
At this juncture Alice, who had obviously sensed that ‘her side’ were in a spot of bother interrupted, suggesting in a higher than usual octave, ‘Perhaps some refills might be just the ticket?’ And it was.
It was the weedy Standish, who had previously slipped out of his tweed jacket who took up the thread. Dunleavy, who dismissed his secretary’s offer, was it seemed still recovering from Phyllis’s backlash.
‘Mrs Cardinali, Ms Curtis, essentially what Jack told you was how things went. So basically, and from a business perspective we had planned to sit back and watch as Cardinali Transport consumed itself. Then when it sank, we, using my company to front the offer would do a ‘deal’ with the administrator and that, as they say, would be that. But...’ He stopped, seeming to be lost for words, his veined hands pulling at the side of his mop of mousey hair. Phyllis, realising what was happening, stepped in. She literally threw him a life-line by saying, ‘But then my husband died.’
‘Yes. Yes, thank you Phyllis, Mrs Cardinali, I mean, who would have thought?’
Haverstock, again picking up on his neighbour’s difficulty, took over the conversation, ‘Margaret, if I could perhaps go back to that first encounter?’ She remained deadpan. He continued, ‘At that time, my industry competitor here, was on the brink of going under. It seemed that Ricky err, your husband, sorry I meant your partner, business partner, had targeted his whole address book.’
Margaret interrupted him and stopped his already perforated delivery, dead in its tracks. ‘Look gents, okay we hear what you’ve said. Jeez, it’s like being preached to by an overbearing clergyman doing a sales talk to a trapped funeral congregation.’ Standish, suddenly lurching across the table interjected, ‘What!? What do you mean by that Ms Curtis?’
Margaret ignored him. ‘Can we please move on? Move forward. Have you an offer for Cardinali Transport, or not? Or, do we have to endure yet another sermon from yer man over there?’
Dunleavy rejoined the conversation. He glared at Margaret. She dismissed him by turning away. After some fidgeting Dunleavy spoke. ‘Yes, we do have an offer. Before we pass it to you we really do need to make it clear that this offer is not, never could be based on a commercial footing. Phyllis, Mrs…um. Your husband’s death shocked everyone throughout our trade. And putting aside your earlier comments in respect of our consortium, this honourable group of hauliers, there are six of us, are making this as our goodwill gesture at this difficult time for you.
‘So, yes, Mrs. Cardinali, Ms Curtis, us’uns,’ he said, using the peculiarly Northern Irish collective noun whilst waving his hand to indicate his colleagues, ‘want to purchase the Cardinali business, its assets, but not its debts.’
Alice, on cue, opened her briefcase. She passed a green coloured file to Margaret. As she opened it a silence, other than Standish slurping at his coffee, gripped the room. She passed it to her sister. Their key interest was in getting to the financials section; Margaret had placed her calculator on the table. She lifted it, held it to her face and punched at the keys. It was more for effect than a check on the document’s mathematics. With poker faces, they stood up – again it was Phyllis who spoke. ‘Gentlemen, Alice, if you’ll excuse us for a moment? Give us fifteen, say, twenty minutes.’ They both smiled politely and left the room.
As they sauntered back down the corridor Margaret nudged her sister saying, ‘Listen, can you hear? They’ll be in a manly huddle now. They’ll be congratulating each other on a job well done, a communion of self-praise together with another denunciation of our ‘pet cowboy’. No doubt they are having a laugh at us. Imagine, ‘wee women’ entering a man’s world, as if.’
Phyllis answered, ‘Aye, that Dunleavy character won’t be able to help himself. He’ll be prancing around the room, eulogising. Then no doubt he will be posturing in front his young secretary saying something along the lines of, ‘Well, Alice love what ya think? Master class or what? Oh that poor wee girl.’
Phyllis and Margaret decided that their thinking time would be best spent having drinks down in the hotel lounge.
Meanwhile, the gathering upstairs was showing signs of unease. Alice Underwood quietly got on with her minute writing while observing the changes of atmosphere within the meeting room. While she could, in many ways, have been seen as the dumb blond in the short skirt she was far from that, and her note-taking too had not been confined to verbatim minutes. Eventually after some twenty-seven minutes a gentle knock on the door saw a jumpy Standish leap across the room.
‘Ladies, hi. We thought you’d deserted us. Maybe away pricing the spa treatments or inspecting the beautiful gardens?’
‘Ah very droll. I was tempted. But no. Far too grand for the likes of us, Phyllis said. ‘No, we just needed to condense our thoughts, do our sums so to speak.’
‘And. And?’ Interrupted Dunleavy. He continued, ignoring the obvious eye-rolls from various people in the room, not only the ‘girls’. ‘I’m sure you’ll agree ladies, that in the circumstances, a generous offer, no? So all we need is to get your signatures on that there dotted line if…you…please?’
Both Margaret and Phyllis held their grins tight. Alice had slipped back into her place at the end of the table. Head down, she appeared to be scribbling. Still the sisters hadn’t answered. The room remained in a state of expectation.
Then, and with as much mock drama as they could muster, Phyllis and Margaret moved back towards the table. They stood behind their respective chairs. The men grouped around Dunleavy at the window across from the table. Margaret continued to compose herself. What she wanted to say, and what she needed to say was currently conflicted. Dunleavy’s impatience now visual, the handkerchief was out again.
Finally, Margaret spoke with her tongue, Phyllis knew, very much in cheek. ‘Gentlemen. We thank you for putting so much thought into the preparation of this offer,’ she paused, during which, and with an actor’s stance, she scanned the room from the secretary to Dunleavy, to his ‘boys’. They in turn glanced at each other. All were openly nervous in their anticipation of what would likely follow.
To wait for Margaret’s response however, was not in Dunleavy’s plan. He’d already slipped a fountain pen out from inside his ill-fitting beige jacket as Margaret, pressing the green file to her chest, continued. ‘You know, I’ve taken a day out of a very busy schedule to come to you. Phyllis here will likely miss her bridge tonight,’ she paused for effect.
Again the audience glanced at each other. Cle
arly they were all on edge now, if not on a different intellectual plane; except Alice and perhaps Haverstock too.
Margaret continued while at the same time closing her leather bound file. The click from the security clasp was audible. ‘I mean…Oh you boys. Tut tut! What-the-hell do you take us for, Girl Guides?’ She paused, waved the file then continued, ‘We really are not in the business of taking charity hand-outs, regardless of how frugal they might be. Therefore, and, without regret, we must, on this occasion, reject this.’ She stopped and the room seemed to hold its breath.
With the same sense of theatre, she handed the file to Phyllis who in turn handed it back to Alice. Glancing across at the male gathering by the window Margaret out stretched her other arm to stop Dunleavy in his tracks, saying, ‘If I may continue? It won’t be a sermon on business ethics, morality or any of that old stuff. Yes, of course my brother-in-law was undoubtedly a cowboy.’
Phyllis was nodding in agreement.
‘But, there was no malice in him, just a determination to feed his family. And yes guys, I must take blame too for Cardinal’s lack of business etiquette. Equally, I hope that you too can come to regret the despicable moves your cartel dreamed up, to put him down. Don’t worry, if you’ve forgotten I have them all noted now. But, the joke is; you failed. The Cardinali name has not been driven into the ground and gents, I’ll tell you something else... it continues to trade, and to expand, yet again!
So, if you’ll excuse us, we have another meeting to attend. Who knows what that will bring, eh?’
Standish’s words tumbled out of his mouth, ‘Ladies, ladies, please, let’s not be too hasty. I’m sure...’ he paused, looking to first at Dunleavy, then to Haverstock before continuing with his unplanned interruption. ‘I’m sure we might be able to run the figures again. I mean, have you... have you got a value in mind?’
Margaret responded, pointing, ‘Mr Standish. Lips! Read my lips.’ She tapped her brief case before continuing, ‘Our visit here today was, but a gesture. But yes and by all means come back to us.’
A Letter to a Lucky Man Page 5