How Beautiful Are Thy Feet

by Alan Marshall

  The accountant swung towards Miss Claws’ office.

  Miss Claws was sitting at her table biting her finger nails and looking straight before her. When the accountant entered she turned on him savagely. ‘What have you been telling Mr Fulsham about me? He only just told me. What did you say to him the other day?’

  ‘I forget the exact words,’ said the accountant, his voice taking on a metallic note, ‘but I told him you were largely responsible for the firm going bung. If I remember rightly, I also told him you were a fool. What about it?’

  Miss Claws jumped to her feet. She spluttered. ‘You dirty rat. I’ll get you. I’ll have you sacked. You won’t get away with this.’

  The accountant laughed scornfully.

  Her voice rose to a scream. ‘Who do you think you are? You dirty rat. Why don’t you mind your own business? Who told you to poke your nose in? I’ll have you sacked.’

  ‘Don’t be more stupid than you can help,’ said the accountant in a cold rage.

  ‘Shut your bloody mouth,’ she shouted. ‘You dirty cripple. I know things about you. I’ll fix you. Get out of my office.’

  ‘Go to hell,’ said the accountant savagely.

  ‘Me? — What? — What did you say? Don’t you talk to me like that.’

  ‘I’ll talk to you a damn sight differently in a minute.’

  ‘I’ll have you sacked.’ She banged on the table with her clenched hand. A froth of saliva appeared at the corners of her mouth. ‘You dirty swine.’

  ‘Tut! Tut!’ The accountant smiled with his lips.

  ‘I’m going over to Mr Fulsham, now,’ she shouted.

  ‘The quicker you get out of my sight the better I will like it.’

  She flung her chair back. She tore from behind her table scattering projecting papers as she went. The door slammed behind her.

  The accountant sat on the edge of her table and exclaimed, ‘Jesus!’ He grinned and went into the factory.

  When he appeared, Clynes, waiting, slid up to him, his eyes eager.

  ‘We could hear her. What was it? What did she say? Did you have a row?’

  The accountant stopped and, bending towards him, spoke into his ear. ‘I have just told Miss Claws to go to hell, Mr Clynes,’ he said softly. ‘And while I am about it, would you mind going there, too! and see Mr Correll over there watching us. Go and tell him to go to the same place.’

  Clynes watched him swing away. He bit his underlip and watched him till he disappeared through the office door.

  27

  What’s come over them all, said Mrs Bourke. I don’t know …

  And Fanny said: Correll has been putting the hard word on me now, and Annie said: Bert make a grab at me in the store room, and Elly said: Gawd the things they say.

  What’s come over them all, said Mrs Bourke. I don’t know …

  And Bert said: Leave it out near the bench where I can pick it up without them noticing me. I’ll leave a pair of shoes out for you, and Correll said: It’s the bloody system; a man’s justified in taking these, and Ron Hughes said: We can make up a dozen pairs at home if we get a bit from each room, and Shorty said: I’ve never done this before …

  What’s come over them all, said Mrs Bourke. I don’t know …

  And Clarkson said: That’s thirty bob I’ve dropped this week, only one winner under system A, and Clynes said: A big win would put me right, and Martin said: I’ll give it another fly this week and then give it up, and the accountant said: I’ve a good mind to try a couple of bob myself …

  What’s come over them all, said Mrs Bourke. I don’t know …

  ‘Hullo! Four and eightpence!’ exclaimed the carrier, looking at the coins in his hand.

  Miss Trueman laughed. ‘Sorry.’ She got another shilling.

  ‘She makes a bit like that,’ grinned the accountant.

  ‘Well, if she does, she doesn’t look like it,’ said the carrier.

  He looked at the docket. ‘What about this discount? I don’t know if they’ll allow it. They’re the toughest crowd I’ve ever worked for. They dock you if you are five minutes late. And we never get overtime. That’s why they are such a wealthy firm. I don’t know about this discount.’

  ‘Try them, anyway,’ said the accountant. ‘I’ll pay the extra if they kick.’

  ‘Good-o,’ said the carrier. He wrapped the coins in the docket and put them in his pocket.

  ‘How are you two going to get on?’ he asked. ‘Are you placed or anything after you go out here?’

  ‘You can’t keep us down,’ said Miss Trueman.

  ‘No. I’ll bet you won’t. I will miss you two. I’m sorry you’re going.’

  ‘We’ll miss you, too,’ said Miss Trueman.

  ‘We will that,’ said the accountant.

  ‘It’s a cow,’ said the carrier.

  ‘That’s praising it up,’ said the accountant.

  ‘Some firms make money and some don’t,’ said the carrier, opening the door. ‘Anyway, good luck to you both.’

  ‘Thanks,’ they replied.

  ‘The carriers are different to the travellers, aren’t they?’ said Miss Trueman as the door closed.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘The travellers treat us very coolly now. Even the ones we thought liked us. But the carriers haven’t let it make any difference.’

  ‘They have nothing to fear by us going out,’ said the accountant. ‘But the travellers are responsible, in many cases, for letting us get so deeply into their firm’s debt. They look on us as criminals. We really are. Accessories before and after the fact. We’re guilty both ways. How do you think your conscience will stand it?’ He smiled at her.

  ‘Mine’s all right. How’s yours?’

  ‘Rather shaky.’

  She smiled and said, ‘Probably it is not altogether due to the sins of the firm.’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s not,’ he said glumly. ‘I’ll most likely be punished by being months out of work. Are you aware that tomorrow will probably be our last day here?’

  ‘No! Not so soon!’ She was surprised. ‘I thought we would be kept on for a week or so to clear up the books.’

  ‘I thought so, too, but the auditor tells me that, in the event of us going into liquidation tomorrow, he will have all the books transferred to his office — that is if he is appointed liquidator. We will both be needed in there for a few weeks, but it won’t be the same somehow. I have become fond of this office. And I have enjoyed working with you, too,’ he added sincerely.

  ‘We have been great friends, haven’t we?’ She made a warm, snuggling movement in her chair and smiled at him.

  ‘We have that. I think it will be horrible having to work together in an auditor’s office after this.’

  ‘It won’t be for long.’

  ‘Long enough.’

  ‘Will any of the factory hands be kept on?’

  ‘Different ones have been leaving every day over the last week. There are not many left. All the orders on hand have been completed. I suppose Clynes and Correll and a few others will be kept on for a week or two cleaning up and preparing for the auction sale. The others will go off tomorrow night when the liquidator takes over control. They generally place some man in charge and he acts for them, Immediately the necessary papers are signed the liquidator takes over. We will start packing the books then, and they will be taken into his office. I think we will start today. There is a lot of stuff to be burnt.’

  ‘Wait till I look through the mail?’ The accountant rested in his chair and gazed sadly at his table. The chewed penholder, the red pencil, the rubber with a hole through it, the ink-stains on the wood …

  Miss Trueman handed him a letter. He took it in his hands and read it slowly:

  T. M. CARDWELL

  Bailiff and Private Enquiry Agent

  Elizabeth Street,

  Melbourne

  Oct. 6th, 1935.

  Mr McCormack.

  Dear Sir,

  Re Warrant of Restraint on A. Bentl
ey.

  I beg to inform you I have seized the following goods and chatties at Richmond:

  1 oak office with desk fitted in shop.

  10 oak chairs.

  4 large oak forms.

  Carpet Runners.

  Approx. 250 pairs of Men’s Women’s and

  Children’s shoes and all fittings on the

  premises.

  I will advise you later when the time expires.

  Yours truly,

  T. M. Card well.

  28

  He had been thinking about it since he got up. By the time he reached the office he was in a bad temper.

  Clynes was hanging up his coat when he entered.

  ‘Did you know that Davis rang up Crawford’s last night and ordered thirty pounds’ worth of leather?’ he asked sharply.

  Clynes, sullen from a sleepless night, said truculently, ‘Yes. I told him to.’

  ‘Why the hell did you do that?’ demanded the accountant furiously. ‘You know that there is a meeting of shareholders today.’

  ‘It’ll be in before the meeting,’ snapped Clynes. ‘Crawford’s said they would let us have it first thing this morning.’

  ‘God!’ exclaimed the accountant.

  ‘We haven’t got to pay for it. What’s biting you? We got a new order in and I have to complete it.’

  ‘We will return the order.’ The accountant set his lips. ‘Crawford’s evidently haven’t heard we’re going out. They think we are on the level.’

  ‘I’m going to complete that order,’ said Clynes stubbornly. ‘I want the leather.’

  ‘I’il ring Crawford’s not to send it.’

  ‘By Christ! If you do that …’

  ‘I’ll do it all right.’

  ‘I want that leather to carry on,’ shouted Clynes.

  ‘If we can only carry on by robbing Crawford’s we should have gone out months ago.’ The accountant clenched his hands. ‘Do you call that honest? — Ordering leather on tick then going out after it is delivered. Do you feel proud of it …? What the hell do you feel about it?’

  ‘We will pay twenty shillings in the pound,’ protested Clynes. ‘They won’t lose anything.’

  ‘Twenty shillings, hell!’ exploded the accountant.

  ‘If we go out, the more stock we have the better,’ defended Clynes.

  ‘Damn you! It makes it worse,’ cried the accountant wildly. ‘We still owe for it, don’t we? At the auction we get less than what we paid for it.’

  ‘We will make it into shoes.’

  ‘At a loss.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What the hell are we going out for, then?’

  ‘That’s what I want to know,’ said Clynes. ‘This is an arse-up way of doing things. Why don’t we hold a meeting of creditors and see if they will let us carry on.’

  ‘That will be decided this afternoon,’ explained the accountant.

  ‘They’ll decide to go out.’

  ‘If they do it’s because common sense tells them it is the only thing to do.’

  ‘Well, I’m going to oppose it.’ Clynes drew himself erect. ‘I’m a shareholder. My house is one of the securities for overdraft. I want them to know outside that I opposed it. I don’t want them to think that I had anything to do with this place going bung. I’ve got myself to think of.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got out creditors to think of and there’s going to be no leather from Crawford’s.’

  ‘You tell that to Fulsham.’

  ‘Fulsham knows nothing about this order.’

  ‘I’ll tell him.’

  ‘Do what you like. I’m ringing up Crawford’s now.’ The accountant went to the phone.

  Clynes turned and strode into the factory.

  The accountant had rung and cancelled the order when Miss Trueman arrived. He had commenced tying invoice books into bundles, and stacking them against the wall. The wall was lined with shabby, leather-bound books. Old dust floated in the air. The shoulders of the accountant’s coat were grey.

  ‘Phew!’ said Miss Trueman, waving her hand before her face.

  ‘This is nothing,’ said the accountant. ‘Wait until we are cleaning out the bottom shelf.’ He took a copper paper-knife from the table, and held it up for her inspection. ‘I’m having this.’

  ‘I’m having that brass inkwell. Where is it? You seem to have got in first.’

  ‘I have left you your inkwell. There is half a bottle of ink down there, too, if you want it.’

  ‘I want to take a bundle of those followers home with me.’

  ‘Help yourself.’ He waved his hand towards the open cupboard.

  Miss Trueman took off her coat and proceeded to help him. ‘After you had gone last night,’ she said, ‘Mr Fulsham made out two cheques; one for Coughlan Bros, and one for Gerald and San. The both of them came to over five hundred pounds. He was taking them round to both firms straight away.’

  The accountant collapsed back in his chair. ‘Good God!’

  ‘It affects the houses doesn’t it?’

  ‘Does it what!’ exclaimed the accountant, agitated. ‘It’s a calamity. For weeks I’ve been pulling the overdraft down. We are allowed a certain limit, but I wanted to get it a long way below that. Correll, Clynes and I each have a house which, together with the factory building, forms the security. These two cheques will bring the overdraft almost up to the limit again. That means we three will have to meet the deficit after the bank has seized the proceeds from the sale of the factory building.’

  ‘Perhaps they will get enough for the factory without having to sell your houses.’

  ‘They haven’t got a hope. We will probably have to make good a shortage of about four hundred pounds.’

  ‘Isn’t that awful.’

  ‘I wasn’t worrying. I knew we were safe with the overdraft as it was. Hell! What a position. Tell Clynes I want him. We will have to do something.’ The accountant rubbed his forehead with his fingers. He closed his eyes, trying to think. Miss Trueman hurried out to look for Clynes.

  When she returned she said, ‘He will be here in a minute.’ The accountant did not answer her. He stared fixedly before him.

  ‘What is the matter?’ asked Clynes, closing the door behind him.

  ‘Our houses are in danger,’ said the accountant bluntly. ‘Cheques have been drawn which have shot the overdraft up to the limit. We’ve got to act and act quickly.’

  Clynes went white. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He sat down.

  The accountant drew a breath. ‘Listen to me.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Clynes faintly.

  ‘The meeting starts in about an hour and a half. You will have to prolong it. Argue, demand explanations, contradict, make long, rambling speeches. I will drive round the city trying to raise the money. Several big firms owe us large amounts. I think I can persuade them to let me have a cheque. But it will take time. If you can hold up the meeting until I raise enough to bring the overdraft down to a safe figure, we will be right.’

  ‘But what difference does the meeting make? You’ve got all day to bank it.’

  ‘Look. Immediately those papers are signed the auditor goes down to the bank and closes the account. It is the first thing he does. You must keep him here until I have the money banked. It’s up to you.’

  ‘Christ!’ said Clynes despairingly.

  ‘You can do it. Now, I must go.’

  ‘But you should attend the meeting. They will wonder where you are.’

  ‘If they ask you, tell them you have no idea where I am. It will be the truth. You won’t know where I am when they ask you.’

  ‘How will I know when you have the money banked?’

  ‘I will keep in touch with you on the phone. Leave the meeting and speak out here each time I ring. Miss Trueman will knock at the door and ask for you. She will say it is urgent.’ He turned to her. ‘Hear that, Miss Trueman.’

  ‘Yes.’

  The accountant looked at his watch. ‘I m
ust go.’

  ‘A man at the door wants you,’ said Miss Trueman.

  ‘All right,’ said the accountant. He went over to the counter. Clynes rose slowly and walked into the factory.

  ‘Can you do anything for me this morning?’ asked the man.

  The accountant shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. No. There is a meeting of shareholders in about an hour’s time.’

  ‘Not liquidation!’ exclaimed the man.

  ‘Yes.’

  The man’s face changed. From an expression of comparative friendliness it clouded to a resentful brooding. He looked down in silence. The accountant forgetting his troubles for the moment, watched him, watched the change of attitude reflected in his eyes. This man can’t lake it, he thought. He will cringe. He will load me with recriminations. He knows it is hopeless, but he can’t help himself. I thought he was different.

  ‘Then we get nothing,’ said the man, raising his head. A faint, bitter smile fixed his lips in unnatural rigidity.

  ‘We will pay somewhere about fifteen shillings in the pound,’ said the accountant.

  The man laughed scornfully. ‘I’ve heard that before.’

  ‘Probably,’ said the accountant dryly.

  ‘This puts me in a hole, I must say.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ The accountant meant it.

  ‘A lot of good that will do.’

  The accountant’s expression hardened. ‘I’m glad you think so.’

  ‘What about that thirty quid’s worth of leather you bought a fortnight ago?’ continued the man antagonistically. ‘You ought to, at least, pay me that. I gave it to you at a cut price. Leather’s gone up and it should have been threepence a foot more. What about that thirty quid?’

  ‘We can’t possibly pay it. The firm is bankrupt. You will have to wait until the liquidator settles with you.’

  ‘And what am I going to do in the meantime?’

  ‘I’m sure I don’t know,’ said the accountant impatiently.

  The man turned to go. ‘A hell of a firm this is, I must say. A bunch of crooks, if you ask me.’

  ‘No one is asking you,’ said the accountant mildly.

  ‘Ar — !’ The man strode out in disgust.