The Ascendant

Chapter Sixteen

We’re in the car and I’ve got the key in the ignition, running through my old driving instructor’s check list of everything that failed so dismally yesterday. It would be better to think of this morning’s smooth take off, and bare in mind that my driver’s license is at least one of the documents which hasn’t been forged.

I turn the key, and hear Hobbs taking a deep breath to my left.

I apply the acceleration and let off the hand brake. Before I know it the car is speeding off across the car park, probably a little too quickly for comfort or safety but I’m moving anyway, and that’s all that matters.

‘I take it you are navigating Paul,’ I smirk at Hobbs. His face is a picture of apprehension, and for the first time since I moved to London, I feel in control.

‘Just keep your eyes on the road,’ says Hobbs nervously, ‘take a left here and keep going straight ahead until I say so.’

We pull up outside the address where Hobbs has agreed to meet the first contractor. There are two vans parked outside and a lot of banging going on behind the hoardings. The vans are sign written on their flanks: Bestial-Winters Construction Ltd, Hornsea.

Hobbs leads the way and I follow. The journey was relatively stress free, apart from an incident involving a Porsche, a cyclist and a number 29 bus, but we’ve arrived safely and I haven’t yet been sacked, so the day remains full of promise.

A man in a tailored suit is standing in the front doorway of the house, while a couple of others walk past him carrying bags of plaster and lengths of timber.

‘There’s Giles’, says Hobbs, striding up the pathway to shake his hand. Giles is a well fed middle aged man, with rich rosy cheeks and a pair of matching braces.

The pair exchange pleasantries and both complain about being too busy, although I get the impression they’re really more than happy with their lot.

I am introduced to Giles, and we shake hands and share nods as Hobbs explains who I am, who I am taking over from, and what by involvement with Bestial-Winters Construction Ltd will be. Winters suddenly shows significant interest in me, and starts quizzing me about my background and previous relative experience.

Winters has a quite omniscient presence, and for a few sentences I find myself stammering about Cardiff University and working for a firm which he would obviously never even have heard of, but thankfully Hobbs intervenes to save me from further embarrassment.

‘This is Ben’s first week,’ explains Hobbs, ‘so we are just out and about meeting contractors and suppliers today, and for this week at least Ben’s mandate is purely to look, listen and learn.’

‘Oh, of course,’ says Winters with a smile, and suddenly I’m baring the brunt of a full-on charm offensive.

‘Yes, I really like London,’ I try to reassure him, but even that simple answer receives more scrutiny than I’m entirely comfortable with, and I can’t work out whether it is Hobbs or Winters who seems the more sceptical.

We are given a tour of the property, which is being completely renovated following a fire, apparently caused as the result of an arson attack.

‘Very nasty business,’ says Winters gravely, ‘but miraculously no-one was hurt.’

Winters explains the process, from hacking off the fire damaged plaster to the walls to the projected date for the installation of floor coverings, and completion.

‘It’s a big job, but that’s how we like them,’ says Winters, giving what may be a knowing nod. ‘The bigger the better, isn’t that right Ben?’

When it’s clear I don’t know what I’m expected to say in response, Hobbs bursts into laughter and after a moment’s hesitation Winters joins in as well, apologising for putting me on the spot, ‘I was only kidding Ben,’ he says as he slaps me a little too firmly across the back. I get the impression he’ll be doing that again, in terms of both the question and the slap, but I’m not sure which I’m dreading more.

We leave Winters and his big job, and I promise to be in contact with him next week: provided I’m still on the payroll that is.

We get back into the car, and Hobbs takes up his role as navigator while I try to guide us smoothly down the road to Islington.

After the briefest of meetings at the offices of N1 Building and Maintenance, the Chairman, Bob Hustings has ushered myself and Hobbs off to a nearby Italian restaurant on Upper Street.

Despite some persuasive prompting from Hustings, Hobbs is insistent that I do not drink a glass of wine, ‘Really Bob, not until he has mastered the controls of his new car.’

I order a mineral water, while Hobbs and Hustings share a bottle of red wine, Shiraz was I think how Hobbs pronounced it.

The meeting follows a similar format to the one with Giles Winters, but I’m not sure whether it’s the relaxed surroundings or the more sophisticated manner in which Hustings is interrogating me; I just feel comparatively at ease on this occasion, even daring to contribute to the conversation without fear of incriminating myself.

‘So I thought I had taken it as far as I could with Principal Holdings and decided to give it a go in the big city,’ I explain.

‘Well, good on you I say,’ says Hustings, who is probably a shade older and richer than Winters. ‘I think it’s always jolly encouraging to see a chap showing a sense of adventure and ambition like that.’

Like Winters, Hustings’ face and physique bare the scars of many years’ good living. The loose flesh from his chin quivers and flaps as he speaks, while his luxurious pale blue shirt bares the strain of his overtly rotund stomach quite magnificently. A lesser garment would surely have burst long before the starter had even arrived. The man is, however, utterly charming and I find myself completely at ease in his presence, as does Hobbs.

The conversation leaps from skiing holidays to theatre productions, from the latest round of football matches to the most recently and ridiculously awkward customer, and the time and courses skip seamlessly by before we’re all entirely full and exhausted with laughter.

We sip our coffees as Hustings orders the bill, and Hobbs excuses himself to go to the lavatory.

While Hobbs is away Hustings takes his wallet out from his jacket pocket and fans a thick wad of fifty pound notes at me. I’ve never seen so much cash in one place in my life, but instead of removing two or three notes to settle the bill, he instead takes out a platinum credit card and puts his wallet away.

‘I think we’re going to have an excellent working relationship,’ says Hustings, giving me the briefest of glances before signalling to the waiter that his credit card is ready for collection. I don’t know what to say or which way to look. What the fuck was that all about? Maybe they put too much whisky in his Irish coffee.

Hobbs returns moments later and we give sincere thanks to Hustings for such a pleasant meal. Hustings for his part assures us it was his pleasure.

We all leave together moments later, and there are more pleasantries before we bid Hustings farewell and head back to the car, Hobbs somewhat tipsy and myself totally bewildered.

These contractors appear much sharper, more unpredictable and probably even dangerous than I had been expecting. It would seem the quicker I learn how to swim with these sharks the better my chances of survival.