Part Sixty-Seven
Timeline:11:18, Friday, 20th April :The Stable Layout
Greg’s spirits were on a high when he came out of the bank. They rose higher still when he arrived back at the stable to find the truck parked outside the open doors to the stable with Ali and Tomas busy measuring and marking out rectangles on the cobbled floor in green spray paint. His plans were no longer ideas in his head, but were taking shape in front of him.
He caught sight of the pallet truck borrowed from Mr. Sprentz inside the stable as he walked in.
“Hi Guys, I see you got the pallet truck. What gives with the painting; fancy yourselves as the next Picasso perhaps?”
From the grin on his face and the light-hearted tone of his voice there was no way that anybody could have taken offence at Greg’s question. Yet it was a sombre faced Ali that broke away from Tomas where they were painting lines to walk over to Greg and snap belligerently.
“No we ain’t painting to amuse ourselves and yes, we got the pallet - truck.” He jerked a thumb at Greg and fixed him with a stern gaze as if he was expecting an attack. Greg’s high spirits tumbled under Ali’s apparent hostility. He glanced over at Tomas, who remained working on the floor of the stable, but had turned his back so Greg could not see his face. ‘What in Hell’s name is the matter with them now?’’Greg thought, but restrained himself from aggravating the situation with a harsh retort.
Ali maintained his stark gaze; his nostrils flared and lips parted enough to show the white of his teeth. Greg coughed.
“Great! What gives?’ Greg asked, forcing a friendly smile he could not admit was warranted.
Ali remained aloof. He dry-spat into the air from the tip of his tongue and replied curtly “Mr Sprentz says you can buy it off him. He wanted two hundred for it, but it ain’t worth that.”
Greg focussed his attention on that news. “ We’ll need to get our own pallet truck at some time. How much is this one worth?”
Ali sniffed “Offer him a hundred and fifty.”
Greg pursed his lips and nodded. “Sounds good to me, let’s do it. Will he take one-fifty do you think?’
“Maybe. But ain’t you first gonna tell us how you got on at the Bank?”
Greg relaxed a little, thinking Ali’s present problem was maybe centred on the banking arrangements affecting them and brightened.
“It all went OK. We’re up and running and I’ve set up the insurances for you, just like we agreed. That’s all four of you for public liability, and you for the electrical technician’s insurance. It’s all ready to roll. All each of you have to do is go into the bank whenever you’re passing and give your contact and trade details to Janie Sugden; who’ll enter it on the forms and it’s done.”
Greg expected at least a pleased response to his news, but both men remained impassive and silent. Tomas walked over to join them. He and Ali looked knowingly at each other, while Greg looked from one to the other. When there was no reaction after several seconds he asked with some trepidation.
“Well aren’t you going to say something?”
“Like what?” Ali snapped
“Like, maybe, ‘thank you’?” Greg’s tone told of his growing impatience. Ali’s response did nothing to quell its growth.
“We ain’t done much talking about this…”
“For crying out loud we talked this through last night, at your place, with everybody there. It was all agreed. What’s the problem now?” Greg’s exasperation caused him to cut across Ali, who stepped back a pace and regarded Greg with mistrust. His body shook as he replied
“We just talked about it. That’s all what we did yest’day. We didn’t talk about no details.”
“What detail for goodness sake? You need insurance to work as an electrician. I said I’d buy it. We agreed in front of your wives, what else is there to talk about?”
Ali came straight back, thrusting his chin at Greg. “ Partic’lars of how we pay you back and what we have to do for you ‘cos you bought it. That’s what we need to talk about.”
Greg waved his hands in front of his body . “Don’t worry about that for now. Just use ‘em as tools to get yourselves up and running and we can work something out about pay-back later.”
“But how we know afore we start you ain’t gonna crucify us with costs and expenses and all?”
Greg sighed gustily. The joy and exuberance he felt moments ago had evaporated. Everything appeared to be back in limbo again. But he remembered a piece of advice his old friend Paul Harris, from his recruitment days had given him about reactions of the long-term unemployed. Greg now recognised these traits in Ali’s present behaviour. He instantly curbed the urge yet again to pack his bags and drive out of Bamptonville. Instead he asked simply.
“Have I asked you to sign anything? If you’re worried about paying me back you can do so on your own terms over a year, maybe a bit each month after you start getting paying work that covers your business and domestic outgoings. There, I can’t be fairer than that.”
Ali scratched his cheek nervously. “I still ain’t sure. You ain’t gonna cheat us.”
Greg lost his temper briefly and exploded “ What’s the matter with you people. What makes you want to turn down an offer like that. It ain’t as if you have a better one to choose from. What have I got to do to get you to trust me?”
Greg chewed his lip instantly regretting his momentary loss of self-control, but it was done; and he was in no frame of mind to apologize.
Tomas grasped Ali’s elbow.
“Mr. Mee-chell is right Ali. We gotta trust him. We ‘ave to try thees theeng.”
Ali turned on him, speaking in a vicious tone of voice. “It’s OK for you with your wife’s income. If I lose my benefits I ain’t got nothin’ to feed my family with or keep the lights on.”
Both men glared at each other and only Tomas’s face carried a quivering smile.
Greg watched and listened with quickening interest. Ali mentioning Honora’s income was the first indication that Tomas knew about his wife’s clandestine activities. Greg intervened to take control.
“OK guys I get it now, and I don’t blame you one little bit about being worried about losing your benefits. You will lose ‘em when you start working for yourselves. That’s a certainty. I know they are a very important consideration and you’ll stand to lose them for some weeks and maybe months if this don’t work out.”
"That’s right, we’ll lose everything while you can get in your car and drive away to your next adventure; forgetting all about us.”
Greg could have been offended by Ali’s remark, instead he chose to cool it by laughing it off and slapping the man on his back.
“Now I’m not like that, as I told you and I’ve done another thing I told you all I’d do last night. …I’ve covered the eventuality you lose your benefits through no fault of your own.”
Greg paused looking from one to the other, but each of them regarded him without saying anything; waiting for him to finish. Greg continued speaking, his voice unmistakably earnest
“I told you last night if you lost your benefits through no fault of your own, for doing this, I’d cover your loss for a year. Well I’ve been and done it this morning. I have set up an account at the bank for that sole purpose. It is fully funded to cover all four of you for your benefit losses for up to a whole year. Nobody can lose benefits they’re entitled to for that long.”
Tomas gasped and stood with his eyes bulging from his head in disbelief. Ali shuffled around uncomfortably before asking in a more reasonable tone.
“How’d we get to it if it all goes wrong and what do we have to do so it’s not our fault.”
Greg chuckled again and slapped his shoulder. “I don’t know yet, but the money’s there and Bill Courtley knows it’s only for that purpose. It cannot be touched for anything else before the next twelve months is over. I’ll be speaking to my lawyer in a few minutes and get him to set up a simple contract to protect you from me, to protect me from you and give you rights of access to the money in specified circumstances. I can’t do more than that.”
Ali now looked stupefied. Greg watched the man’s Adam’s apple rise and fall as if it was constructing a question. It was no surprise to Greg when Ali eventually gave it voice.
“ You’d do that for us? Why would you do that for us? We’re nothing to you. What’s your angle?”
Greg shook his head. “How many times have we been through this already? Just accept I am doing it. OK.”
Ali regained his composure. “You said four of us. What about Ebonie? She’s one of us too.”
Greg shook his head. “Ebonie is retired, but if she wants to work with us and we can find something she wants to do, then we can extend it to include her if she stands to lose anything by doing so. Now, I have to go to Lincoln and there’re things for us to do here before I go. …What’s with the green lines and shapes on the floor?”
* * *
Timeline : 11:20, Friday, 20th April; Fawley General Office.
Trish became businesslike. With one last sniffle she left emotion behind her and was transmogrified into an efficient executive; as if a circuit breaker had activated. She opened her computer in WORD for Walt to dictate his reference. On the third run through he read and approved the print-out, handing it back to Trish for signing and stamping. It contained the reasons for his dismissal stated exactly as Walt wanted a prospective employer to read them.
“Thanks Trish. I suppose you’d better pay me up until today.” Walt screwed up his face as if his next request caused him pain. “It’s nearly the end of the month Trish. Is there any chance …you can pay me ‘till then. It is only a few more days?”
He stood waiting for her answer with his eyebrows raised in hopeful question and his heart beating in hope. It was a big ‘ask’ of her and Walt expected a refusal as Trish’s face hardened.
She coughed and said. “I think we can do a bit better than that Walt. … I read about some guy working long time for the government in Washington who lost his job ‘cos his face didn’t fit with his new boss. They called it ‘incompatibility’ and paid him six months salary as compensation. Seems to me it’s the same reason as you leaving here now and if it’s good enough for the government, it’s got to be good enough for Fawley Grain and Feed.”
Walt caught his breath. He felt his heart hammering against his chest wall.
‘You’re … you’re not suggesting…”
Trish cut across him before he could finish his question.
‘Why not?” She asked, her face fierce with determination. “If anybody deserves it you do. What I’m going to do Walt is pay you up to date on your old net salary and then pay you six months gross. You’ll have to sort out your own tax affairs on it afterwards.”
Walt was overwhelmed. “That’s really generous of you Trish, but be careful for yourself; or you’ll be joining me on skid-row.”
She breezily waved her hand in front of her to dismiss the threat to herself.
“Oh no I won’t you know.” She unlocked and opened her desk drawer, took out a memory stick and waggled it in front of Walt. “I have the whole business of Fawley Grain and Feed on this stick; all of it.”
She stopped, chuckling mischievously before continuing. “I’ve computerised everything, and all Mitt knows about computers is how to open ‘em up and play silly games. He has to call me to do anything else. I even have to open the spreadsheets before he can read’em.”
Walt looked incredulous and took the memory stick, just to hold it. He had only limited ability with computers, but this information was beyond him. “You mean everything is here, customers suppliers, stock, accounts; all on this little thing?”
“Everything up to today, excepting what we’re doing right now.”
“And Mitt never asked you to show him how it all works”
She laughed quietly. “Oh he asked all right, but I told him I wasn’t going to show him or he’d start going into the files and changing things for the sake of it.”
Walt nodded in agreement and handed back the stick.
“No you keep it,” she insisted. “I can make another one. I’ve got a box of those sticks in the drawer.”
“That’s nice of you Trish, but what would I do with it. I don’t have a computer?”
“Well, when you do, you’ll be able to see the business isn’t doing so well right now. We’ve lost quite a few customers in the last year. Unless Mitt straightens things out and concentrates on reality instead of pipe dreams about being the local big shot, this company can go under, and fast.”
Walt demurred, tossing the memory stick up and down in his hand while he absorbed this startling new information. Trish interrupted his thinking.
“Hold onto to it Walt. You never know when you might want to contact any of those suppliers or customers while you’re looking for a job. They’re a good place to start. They all know and respect you.”
They both looked at each other and smiled, each knowing what the other was thinking. ‘They not only knew Walt, they knew Mitt as well.’ Trish put her hand over her mouth to smother a giggle before adding.
“Besides, if ever you want to open ‘Kempster’s Grain and Feed’ in these parts, you have a head start on what would be your major competitor.” She became serious. …“And if ever you do, give me a call. I’ll come and work for you.”
A glow of warmth welled up inside Walt, increasing the self-confidence he was beginning to feel
“Nice idea Trish but…”
“But nothing.” Trish closed his hand over the memory stick and changed the subject.
"Back to business now,” she said firmly, opening the payroll spreadsheet on her computer. “How much are you paid each month Walt, that’s your all up salary. ...Yours is the only one not on my payroll. I guess your earnings are enormous?” She teased, laughing ironically at her own remark.
Walt smiled back at her, saying, “That figures. Mitt pays me through the Jarvis account.”
“Ahhh!” Trish gasped as understanding dawned. “I thought the Jarvis account was a bit on the heavy side for what I see that the guy does for the business. So it includes you as well. Complicated.”
“That’s Mitt for you. He pays me gross $2000 a month …”
“Is that all? That’s peanuts for a GM…”
Walt raised a hand to halt her objection.
“Wait for it, you’ve not heard the best bit yet. He recovers $800 a month after I’ve paid tax; for the house utilities and repairs, car costs and health contributions.”
“Mean shit!” Trish angrily stabbed figures into a new row she had opened on her payroll spreadsheet for the month. “Why so little? And why did you put up with it for so long, ...dammit?”
Walt smirked and replied. “If you can remember a little contretemps that took place here only minutes ago, you’ll know I didn’t put up with it.”
Trish made disapproving clucking noises as she pounded her keyboard vigorously, calculating figures and entering them against Walt’s name in the new line of her spreadsheet. Several seconds later she was done and sat back in her chair with her hands in her lap and sighed.
“OK Walt, it’s done as best I can do. I don’t know your tax codes and I doubt you do either so this is what I’ve done.” She took a deep breath and exhaled before she spoke rapidly explaining her workings.
"I’ve paid you up to today on your old rate for this month and taken twenty per cent off for taxes. You’ll have to sort that out with the revenue office. My guess is you’ll have better need for the money right now than them. I’ve divided the $2000 by thirty to make a day rate and times’d that by twenty to find the gross pay rate up until today. I did the same for the in-house deductions and took that off what you’re due to get a net figure. Are you still with me?”
Walt looked vacant and lost.
“Men Ughhh!,” Trish muttered in mild exasperation. Let me explain it this way. You worked for 20 days this month and the net earnings comes to $853.33. That’s what’s coming to you once the deductions are off.” She paused to let that sink in. Walt looked shocked and she asked. “Sound OK to you?”
Walt nodded grimly in reply, thinking, ‘there’s not going to be much left out of that after settling the monthly bills for gas, groceries and insurance.’ His head dropped at the realisation he would be into his paltry savings sooner than he surmised. But it snapped back upright and alert when Trish said.
“Like I said, we ain’t done yet. I reckon six months ‘incompatibility’ salary at two grand a month comes out at …” she tapped the keys of her hand held calculator. “… that’s a cool twelve grand, with no deductions.” Walt was staggered by this revelation. His throat tightened and he was unable to speak. Trish continued.
“…a house like you are in ,… I mean you were living in, rents hereabouts for around $1500 a month. It’s a part of your salary package so you’re entitled to be compensated for that as well...” Her fingers tapped the keys of her calculator. “Six months at fifteen hundred a month according to Mister Samsung here comes out at nine grand.”
Walt had recovered enough from his shock to lightly tap her shoulder and said.
‘Trish, you can’t.”
She turned around on him and snapped “ Why not? It’s a legitimate part of your salary. If a house didn’t go with the job, you’d have to rent one and he’d have to pay you more than he did in money to cover it.”
“But you’ll have to check it with him first. You know you have to do that.”
She waved a hand above her head to dismiss his objection.
“Why?” She retorted, “I’m the GM now. You heard him tell me to get on with it, so I am.”
She glared at Walt and he conceded defeat, but asked Trish to think of her own precarious position afterwards.
“But you’ll get into trouble if you do this Trish.”
“Let me worry about that. Do you want this money or not?” Trish was in no mood to take prisoners.
“Yes please,” Walt said meekly.
“Good! Now where was I? ...Oh, yes, …the car you drive, that’s a suitable model for a man of your position, one like that cannot be leased for less than five hundred a month, that’s another three grand. Now, is there anything else?” She talked to herself as she worked ignoring Walt until she had finished. “Oh yes, there’s health, you got comprehensive health cover here. Let’s call it another five hundred a month. I think that’s about it.”
Walt watched her lips moving to mime the amounts as she tapped them into her calculator. She put her hands on her desk and pushed back her chair to announce with obvious self-satisfaction.
"That should do it. So, if I write you a check now for twenty seven thousand dollars plus eight hundred and fifty three dollars and thirty-three cents, will that satisfy you on your departure from these premises Mr. Kempster?” There was a flushed look of achievement and mischief crossing her face as she asked the question.
Walt stood frozen to the spot, watching her in shocked admiration as she brought out a check-pad from the desk drawer. Not waiting for an answer from Walt, she began writing out a check for $27,853.33. He looked on in amazement before questioning her further.
‘You …you can write checks for that amount. …I mean without his counter signature?’
Trish fluttered her hands either side of her head in dismissal “I do it all the time and bigger ones than this.” She ripped the check from the pad and held it towards Walt, waving it around, inviting him to take it from her.
He took hold of it in both hands as if it was made of fine porcelain. Trish chuckled with pleasure.’
“I’d get that into Bill Courtley as the first thing you do when you leave here today, before Mitt has a chance to stop it.”