The Ascendant

Chapter Seventeen

Work was more of the same today, out and about meeting more building contractors who all said how much they were looking forward to working with me.

As Hobbs was driving me to the first appointment - he said it would be better if he drove today as we had three contractors to get around instead of two, but I think I may have had one too many near incidents for his liking yesterday - he told me a little more about what to expect.

Hobbs referred back to one of the reports which he had given me on Monday, in which the volume of out-going business was logged by contractor. Each receives a significant amount of business from us, varying from fifteen million pounds a year to five million. Meanwhile, each company is seeking to increase their share of the business, or at the very least consolidate their existing income, hence their eagerness to please.

‘Don’t be intimidated by any of these guys,’ said Hobbs, ‘they’re all serious businessmen but you’re the one who holds all the trump cards, so just enjoy some of the arse kissing you’ll receive, if that’s what turns you on.’ I hope he really doesn’t mean that literally; shocking scenes involving Winters and Hustings having to be swiftly cast from my mind.

Each of the contractors whom I proceed to meet today are of the Hustings or Winters ilk, in their own culturally diverse way.

First up is Martin Brevett of Brevett Construction, Kentish Town. A verbose and opinionated young businessman of mixed race, Brevett offered his views on the paucity of honest tradesmen in Greater London and the escalating operating costs which result from employing the best skilled workers. He was also at great pains to show us the car he has had to resort to using in an effort to reduce overhead costs, a clapped-out looking Vauxhall Astra, but his diamond encrusted cuff links betrayed the sacrifice.

Next was Mick Kavenagh, whose company is based on the Kilburn High Road. Kavenagh migrated from Ireland in the 1960’s and slowly built his firm up to a large and impressive operation. Kavenagh Building and Property Maintenance are now our third largest contractor. Shrewd businessman that he is, Kavenagh was polite and authoritative throughout but stopped short of any of the subservient nonsense bestowed upon us in our third and most tiresome meeting of the day.

The Managing Director of Crest Building Ltd, Bernard Corcoron, was a plump and balding Cornishman who used an apparently tried and trusted technique of fussing, chortling and pampering his way through the entire meeting. Nothing was too much trouble, from refilling our coffee mugs when both myself and Hobbs were already bloated with liquid and dizzy with caffeine, to offering us the tickets he had acquired for this evening’s performance of Stones in His Pockets at the St. James's Theatre. Apparently his wife would understand.

In his defence, however, he did treat us to a much needed late lunch at Café Rouge on Tottenham Court Road. I chose the bangers and mash, although the dish was called something far grander than that, while Hobbs ate a salad. Corcoron couldn’t decide which one of us he should copy and eventually opted for a bacon baguette with fries.

All in all, it was a considerably more successful day than yesterday; as I was aware of their agenda, these overfed, overindulgent gentry were not nearly as scary, but then none of them pulled any stunts today, so I should not become complacent.

Now, sat at home with my feet placed comfortably on a leather foot stool, cup of tea in one hand, joint in the other, it’s time to take things nice and easy.

I could get used to this: living in the lap of luxury, pretending to be a successful executive, having my house mates roll joints for me and generally having a good time, but I'm all too aware that it could evaporate in an instant. There’s still a significant chance the company might check out my referees or qualifications for validity, or Hobbs may decide I’m just not suitable and simply decide to off-load me.