Drink With The Devil

by David Woods

  Garry’s normally pale face was beginning to colour as he sneered:

  “Your tin pot little outfit will go down the drain on a job like this. And I’ll be pleased to fish out what’s left, and do the job properly.”

  Jim grinned and walked away.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  A meeting was convened at Blakesbuild in Garry’s office. The estimators and surveyors were requested to arrive at ten o’clock to allow Jane time to attend, and they all sat around nervously, wondering what to expect. Garry sat at the head of the table with Jane to his right, and after clearing his throat he began to speak. “I’ve asked you to attend this special meeting to inform you that we have been asked to tender for a major new factory on the Sussex coast. This is a very important contract because it’s the first stage of a large industrial development involving new roads, and could lead to more contracts in the future.”

  All the people around the table were studying his face, their pens poised to write notes on the pads in front of them. He continued, “The only problem I can see with this contract is the limited amount of time allowed for estimating, and the large penalty clauses written in for late completion. The company we’ll be working for is a large multinational chemical manufacturer, who will be very strict when applying the contract terms.” He paused and then asked, “Are there any questions?”

  Claude Gill said. “I assume the machinery to be installed in the factory will be very heavy?”

  “Yes. And the lorries delivering materials.”

  “So it’ll be important to carry out soil tests all over the site?”

  “Yes. Provided they can be carried out quickly.5’

  Another person asked. “What’s the site like, Mr. Osborne?”

  Garry smiled and rubbed his hands together. “Perfect. It’s a flat site with good load bearing gravel-type soil.”

  Jane was the next to speak. “How long have we got before the deadline?”

  “Only two weeks.”

  “Why didn’t they send the details before?”

  Garry shrugged his shoulders. “No idea, but I expect they want to start production as soon as possible.”

  Jane frowned and stared at her blank note pad.

  They all paused for thought and it was Claude Gill who broke the silence. “Who are we up against this time?”

  “I’m not sure yet. But you can be certain all the major civil engineering companies’ll be going for it.”

  Jane looked up from her study of the writing pad. “Did our competitors get the details before us?”

  “No. I was assured by the surveyor that we were all informed at the same time.”

  “So they’ll all struggle to tender on time as well?”

  “Yes. That’s right.”

  “And if they’re already busy like us, they won’t tender at all.”

  Garry hadn’t expected her to make this point and desperately tried to think of an argument for going ahead. “B-But that would be very short sighted, bearing in mind the work this could lead to when the site is enlarged in the future. It’ll attract other manufacturers who’ll want to build, and we’ll be well placed to carry out their contracts.”

  “I suppose so.” She replied gloomily.

  Garry sprang to his feet hoping to stop any further argument, and looking sternly at his staff he raised his voice. “I want maximum effort on this one. Copies of the plans and contract will be on your desks in an hour’s time. When you get them, drop everything else and get on with it. I want results quickly.”

  They took this statement as a dismissal and filed out of the room in silence. Jane watched the door close and spoke sharply. “I don’t agree with blundering ahead without giving ourselves time to do all the checking and other work properly.”

  Garry knew how to win her over and said softly. “What would your father have done? Turned it down?”

  She stopped frowning and thought for a few seconds. “He would have worked non stop until he knew the answers.”

  “But he wouldn’t have turned it down, would he?” Garry persisted.

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “Well I’m prepared to work hard until I have all the answers.”

  “Very well. As usual, you know best.”

  Jane left him studying the thick pile of papers that formed the contract and he went on working until late every night, with food brought in so he could keep going.

  The other members of the team worked long hours on complicated plans and detailed specifications. Garry stopped himself drinking until half an hour before going home, when he would make up for the rest of the day’s abstinence.

  His thoughts at this time usually turned to Jim Grainger, when he pictured him sitting in a grubby office trying to understand the details of the contract. He could visualise him getting more confused by the legal jargon, and each time he had his late night drink he became more convinced that a man with no education or experience would either tender too low and bankrupt his firm, or tender too high and lose the contract. Even if by some stroke of luck he got it right he would not have the expertise to complete on time, so would get suffer heavily due to penalty clauses. These comforting thoughts made him cheerful and good-humoured even when he was tired.

  With only one day to spare, Garry called a meeting to finalise the price. All the participating parties sat around the table, some looking tired and drawn. The chief surveyor, Claude Gill, looked particularly worried. Garry opened the meeting with Jane at his side, as usual. “I would like to thank you all for the effort you have put in on this contract.” The meeting continued for some long time whilst they discussed every detail

  Garry questioned Claude about the results of soil tests and he replied nervously, “We’ve taken samples at four positions and found them satisfactory.”

  “Good. So we should be okay?” said Garry.

  “Yes, in those positions.”

  He pointed out where the samples had been taken and then went on. “We ought to take another five samples before we can be certain.”

  “No time for that, Claude. We’ll have to assume the conditions’ll be the same throughout the site.”

  “Yes we could, but it’s a risk.”

  Jane looked up from writing notes and spoke to Claude. “What did you find in those samples?”

  “Mainly gravel-type soil. All the samples were the same.”

  Garry cut in. “So there’s no need to worry about more samples, is there?”

  There was no reply so he proceeded to the next item. Discussions went on until late in the evening when they agreed a tender price to be delivered by hand the next day.

  Jane went home, leaving Garry alone in his office looking through the papers again, and at the item he had deliberately not brought up for discussion — late completion penalty clauses. The cost of not completing on time was frightening, and it made cold sweat appear on his brow when he considered how much it would cost for each week overdue. Jane was too preoccupied at the meeting with the lack of soil tests; it had diverted her attention from this really worrying aspect of the contract. He was pleased she had not mentioned this particular subject.

  The tender was delivered an hour before the expiry time, and Garry turned his attention to the house building side of the business. Some of the first deals he had struck agreeing to purchase building land were running out, so he would have to buy the land or let it go to the open market. He thought carefully about it, noting where the land was situated and its proximity to Grainger Construction’s head office. There were four large sites all nearby and, as the bank had agreed to finance the purchase some time ago, he decided to go ahead with the purchase of all four sites.

  Two weeks after the tender was delivered, a letter advising that Blakesbuild’s price was acceptable arrived, and an early meeting was requested to finalise the details. Garry was overjoyed, hugging Jane until she squealed, and went on to spend the day in a state of self-congratulatory euphoria. Jane was much more subdued, remembering h
er father’s words about large contracts with dynamic private companies.

  He always used to say your troubles start when you sign the contract and do not finish until the final payment, and then you still have to watch out.

  Garry went to the formal acceptance meeting and met the chief architect, Jim Davenport, a small man with piercing eyes and a hooked nose. The American company president looked on as details were discussed, Garry eventually being introduced to the big bull-necked tall man with white hair. Eugene Spence gave Garry an icy stare and growled: “Make sure you complete on time or it will cost both of us.”

  “We always complete on time, Mr. Spence.”

  “Yeah, I bet you do.” He waddled away, leaving Davenport to complete the proceedings.

  Just before the meeting terminated Garry asked Davenport. “Why did you choose Blakesbuild?”

  “You submitted the lowest tender and we were impressed by your experience with this type of project.”

  “I see. Were the others much higher?”

  “Some were and some couldn’t agree with our conditions.”

  “What about Grainger Construction?”

  Davenport stroked his large nose and thought for a moment before replying. “Oh, I remember. They returned all the documents and plans almost by return of post, explaining they were too heavily committed with existing contracts to be considered.”

  Garry’s face dropped. “So they didn’t even bother to tender?”

  “No. And even if they had they would have had to be much cheaper to be accepted, due to their lack of experience.”

  Garry left the meeting with mixed feelings, pleased to have landed such a large contract but annoyed that his efforts at beating Grainger were a waste of time. He remembered Jim saying he was going all out for the job and wondered why. Was it just a ruse to make me tender too low in the hope I would get my fingers burnt? He pondered the subject on his way back to the office, but soon convinced himself Grainger had sent it back because he was too stupid to understand the details of the contract. He should have studied it when it arrived and saved himself a trip to the site.

  Garry handed the contract over to Claude Gill with instructions to run it himself and stay on site. Claude protested. “I need to be here in the office with a manager on site.”

  “I don’t want you here getting involved with other contracts. You must work on site with a foreman and concentrate on that job alone.”

  Claude sighed in resignation, knowing it was no good arguing. He spent the next few days setting up a site office and organising essential services, and within a week the site offices were standing on the edge of the site with a view across the empty flat field. He got more depressed about the job every time he looked out of his window; he was used to being certain about ground conditions before starting, and had a nasty feeling his boss was going to be on his back every day checking progress.

  Garry felt happy leaving the job in Claude’s hands, knowing how he would worry about details and timing, and it allowed him to concentrate on the house building programme. They had several sites half completed with houses selling quite well, and his only worry was the amount of money tied up in sites and half completed homes.

  Another site with an option to purchase needed a decision on whether to buy or not; it was a large expensive site in Surrey and would take all the company’s remaining credit with the bank. He gave the matter considerable thought; on the one hand he did not need it and could not build on it for at least two years, but on the other hand Grainger had opted out of the factory job so would need an ever increasing supply of building land, and would probably snap the site up, being so near his headquarters. He decided to buy it without telling Jane, and the feeling of owning so much prime building land made him feel good.

  Jane noticed his good mood and wondered if she could love him again. He seemed to have changed so much lately. He had not been violent for a long time, his drinking seemed to be under control and he was reasonably kind to her as well as civil to the staff. Their life at home was improving and he was taking more interest in William, even sitting him on his knee once although the little chap was nervous, obviously wondering if his dad was all right. She wanted another baby but still could not face sleeping with Garry, and comforted herself with the thought that his continuing improvement in behaviour might result in them enjoying a full married life together. He only had to be kind, gentle and stay off the drink and she felt sure they would be able to share the same bedroom again. She realised how badly she wanted to be loved and did her best to be nice to him, awaiting a favourable response. He noticed how hard she was trying, but worries about money made him edgy and he still resorted to the bottle every night.

  Two months after starting work on the factory site Garry visited Claude, and they walked around looking at the various stages of construction. The new roads were built with temporary surfaces and work was about to commence on the main structure. The site had been levelled and there were level markers sticking up everywhere, looking as if they were growing.

  Garry came away from the site feeling good they were ahead of schedule; the first progress payment was in the bank and the second was due shortly. He went home early and told Jane the good news. She gave him a kiss on the forehead. “I should have trusted your judgement about that contract. You were right, as usual.”

  “Ah. But you were right to question the haste in arriving at a decision.” He sat down in the lounge and read the paper, turning over the pages until a half-page bold advertisement nearly jumped out of the page at him. ‘Grainger Construction Quality Homes.’ A picture of a beautiful house was featured and followed by a list of sites where it could be purchased. Garry read the very professional advertisement before screwing the paper up and throwing it across the room, his stomach twisted with hatred as he walked towards his study and headed straight for the drinks cabinet. The first full glass joined the wine in his stomach and started familiar visions of doom followed by revenge, becoming more real as more brandy trickled down his throat.

  Jane walked into the lounge wearing a pretty dress which flattered her trim figure, and soon discovered the reason for her husband’s sudden disappearance. She flattened the paper out and saw the crumpled advert, cursing herself for missing it, and wishing she had removed the offending page as she had previously. She sat down and wept as she realised her hopes for a reconciliation were dashed by his stupid obsession. Her misery turned into anger, and she marched into his study, finding him about to pour another drink. “It’ll do you no good to start drinking with the devil again.” He just shrugged his shoulders as she walked out.

  The next morning he slumped into a chair and ate a light breakfast. Jane looked at his gaunt face and said: “You must stop getting twisted up or it’ll kill you.”

  He looked up at her sadly. “Yes, you’re right.”

  “Well, do something about it.”

  “What can I do?”

  “There are people who could help.”

  “I’m not going to a shrink.”

  Jane just shook her head and whispered, “It’s up to you of course.”

  Garry went to work feeling weak and cursing himself for being so stupid, vowing to make a real effort to stop himself thinking about that man. He got down to work and was feeling better by the time coffee arrived. Then the telephone rang.

  Claude Gill sounded upset. “Mr. Osborne, we’re in trouble.”

  “What trouble?”

  “Running sand.”

  “I’ll come straightaway.” He drove fast, consoling himself that Claude was probably panicking over nothing. They walked together to where a huge hole had been dug for a large steel stanchion, which would form an upright for the main frame of the building. The man in charge of the steelwork team stood there, looking grim, as they all peered down the hole. It was only six feet deep, but the bottom looked as though a small stream was running through it.

  The steelwork man said loudly. “That’s not only running sand, it�
�s a bloody river. We were assured this site was properly surveyed.”

  “It was,” growled Garry.

  “Oh yeah. It looks like it, don’t it?”

  Garry turned to Claude. “Come back to the site office.”

  They turned and started walking and the steelwork man shouted after them: “What am I supposed to do now?”

  They ignored him and walked in silence but once inside Garry said. “What’s the answer, Claude?”

  “We’ll have to dig just far enough away to pump the water. Then we’ll have to dig the main hole until we get down to load bearing ground, and fill it up to stanchion base level with concrete.”

  “Right. Get on with it then.”

  “Mr. Osborne, I don’t think you realise the gravity of the situation.”

  “What d’you mean?”

  “Once we start digging the main hole again, the sides will fall in and we’ll end up with a huge hole and no guarantee we’ll hit hard ground. The only real answer is a pile driver,”

  “Don’t be silly, Claude. That’ll add weeks to the contract and cost a fortune.”

  “You’re right. We’ll have to try pumping and digging first.”

  “Get cracking then!”

  Claude walked off to give instructions to the digger driver, and Garry watched as the machine moved to a new position, his brow deeply furrowed and cold sweat trickling down his nose. He mopped his brow and paced up and down the office worrying about the problem, staying on site all day and watching the digger produce another hole deeper than the first and in the direction from which the water was flowing, A large pump was set up and started work, a crowd gathering around the main hole, all smiling as the water stopped flowing, due to the pump keeping up with the underground stream.

  Garry heaved a sigh of relief and then shouted to Claude. “Get that digger working in the main hole.”

  The bucket was lowered and sank easily in the wet sand, hut as it was lifted out, a large section of the hole’s side caved in, and the digger slid slowly downwards. The driver’s face was a picture of horror as he was pitched forward at a gathering pace. The machine eventually came to rest at the bottom and he managed to scramble free before the other side fell in, half burying the digger.