Cold Is the Dawn

by Charles Egan

  Murtybeg drummed his fingers on the table. ‘Somehow, I thought they would be pricy, right enough.’

  Tea had arrived. Murtybeg waited until it was poured. Then he stood.

  ‘It’s kind of you to bring the tea, but I don’t think I’ll be needing it.’

  Sternberg waved him back to his seat.

  ‘No, no, Mr. Ryan. Before you go, can I make another suggestion?’

  Murtybeg sat. ‘Any suggestion would be most helpful.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Sternberg said. ‘We might in fact be able to help each other. My nephew – my brother’s son, Louis – he’s a barrister. Not long qualified, mind you, and the poor fellow’s not doing too well. He spends all his time in the Law Library, but he’s not getting much in the line of briefs.’

  ‘So what do you suggest? That we might give him a brief, is that it?’

  ‘Indeed. If he’s such a sharp young fellow as his pa says, he could be well worth having. And given that he’s so little coming in, he’ll hardly be charging as much as a firm of top barristers. Will he?’

  Murtybeg considered that.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he said, ‘it seems like an excellent idea. For all I know, he might still be too expensive, but at least it’s worth trying.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Sternberg said. ‘I must tell you though, that even for a junior barrister, a referral from a solicitor is essential. Now, if you hold on a minute.’

  He went out into the back office, and Murtybeg could hear him dictating a letter. He came back in and handed it to Murtybeg.

  ‘Here you are, this should suffice.’

  Murtybeg stood. ‘And how much do I owe you?’

  ‘Oh no. I couldn’t charge you for this service. And in any case, I might just be giving my young nephew a helping hand. Who knows?’

  *

  Next day, Murtybeg took the train into Manchester Piccadilly and walked to the Manchester Law Library.

  There was a man at a table, just inside the entrance.

  ‘I’m looking for Mr. Louis Sternberg,’ Murtybeg said.

  ‘Referral?’

  ‘What?’ Murtybeg asked.

  ‘I need the referral from your solicitor.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Murtybeg said, ‘hold on a moment.’ He passed it across. The porter glanced through it and gave it back.

  ‘Louis Sternberg. Down the corridor, the double doors straight in front of you. You’ll easily find him there.’

  Murtybeg followed the instructions and found himself in an extensive library, volumes on both sides and up to the ceiling. After asking for Louis Sternberg three times, he ended up in a small room to the side. Asking again, he was directed to a table under the window.

  ‘Louis Sternberg?’

  ‘Yes?’

  Blue eyes looked up over a pair of spectacles, questioning.

  ‘Your uncle referred me to you. He said I’d find you here right enough. We might have work for you.’

  ‘Work?’ There was a rapid smile. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’

  Murtybeg sank into an old chair, tooled with green leather.

  ‘Murtybeg Ryan is the name.’

  ‘Murtybeg? An Irish name?’

  ‘It is.’

  He passed across the letter from Abraham Sternberg.

  ‘This looks fine. So what can I do for you?’

  Rapidly, Murtybeg explained the situation about Danny’s death and Irene’s takeover of Edwardes & Ryan. Then he showed him the letter from Rothwells. Sternberg glanced through it.

  ‘As it happens, there was hardly any need to show me this. What you’ve said is sufficient. There’s one very important point of law that Rothwells are doing their best to ignore.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The concept of common-law marriage was abolished in England and Wales in 1753.’

  Murtybeg was stunned.

  ‘You mean…?’

  ‘Just that. Miss Miller has no rights in law. She is merely an employee of Edwardes & Ryan, no more.’

  ‘So what do we do now?’

  ‘Send a letter to Rothwells. They know damned little of the law, they’re no more than a firm of conveyancing solicitors.’

  ‘No, no,’ Murtybeg said, ‘I’d far prefer you to do it.’

  ‘I’d be delighted to,’ Sternberg said, ‘but I think it’s better not at this stage. Rothwells are not aware that you are using legal counsel, and if they knew you were talking to me, they might recommend their client to brief counsel too, and you most certainly don’t want that. No, I think it’s better if you drop them a note in your own name, just indicating that you are aware of the fact that common-law marriage was abolished. Don’t even mention the 1753 Act. Even that would imply that you are too knowledgeable.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Murtybeg. ‘That would sound most sensible.’

  ‘Yes,’ Sternberg said, ‘it’s by far the most direct way to handle the situation, and the cheapest too.’

  ‘Now what about your charges.’

  ‘My charges? Oh, there’s no charges for this. Any barrister could have told you this. I’d be embarrassed to charge.’

  ‘Well, that’s very decent of you,’ Murtybeg said, ‘and now I’m the one to be embarrassed.’

  ‘There’s no need. Edwardes & Ryan are an expanding firm. I am sure we will have reason to meet again.’

  ‘Most surely.’

  *

  When he returned to Stockport, Murtybeg wrote a letter to Rothwells.

  He wrote another letter to Louis Sternberg, enclosing a copy of the letter he had sent to Rothwells, and expressing his thanks. A few days later, he received a letter from Sternberg with six words:

  ‘Excellent, that should do the job.’

  Murtybeg could not believe his luck. He had been worried about costs, but had been given the best legal advice for nothing at all.

  Chapter 10

  Manchester Times. October 1848:

  Manchester Trade Reports. Our home trade demand has also, we regret to say, undergone a change for the worse, owing in a great measure, we think, to the great and rapid fall which has taken place in railway property, and which is exercising a fearful influence on traders of almost every class; this it will continue to do as long as ‘calls’ are made to an extent from £3,000,000 to £4,000,000 monthly. The amount now required to complete existing engagements is estimated at about £30 millions, at the rate of payment which has been going on for the last three years, will cover a space of three months; after this period has elapsed, we may look for a return of capital into its legitimate channels and with it a more prosperous state of things in commercial matters.

  Over the following weeks, life continued much as usual in Edwardes & Ryan. Murtybeg had thought about Irene’s position in the business. She had tried to take it over, but now the Ryan family owned it, and she would have known that by now. Rothwells would have told her.

  He could have attempted to fire her, but saw no reason for this. Danny had never dared to, because she knew the business better than any of them.

  He did notice though that Irene’s salary was higher than his own. Only by a shilling a day, but even so, it annoyed him. When he suggested reducing it, she refused to accept any reduction and in the end, he gave in. She had allowed him a two-shilling increase, and it was not worth arguing about a shilling a day reduction. Also, it gave her a small victory, and that might serve to ease any disappointment she may have felt from her failure in taking over Edwardes & Ryan.

  But even so, there was one subtle change.

  No ten percent amounts were added to contract quotes anymore. Murtybeg expected that the volume of new contracts might drop, but they did not. Could cash be leaving the business in other ways, though? He checked all payments, including cash transactions, very carefully, but still there was no sign of any malfeasance.

  All this time, Irene worked quietly. In some ways, this worried him even more. Irene was not a woman to take defeat easily.

  As the business expan
ded, the borrowing requirement grew. Murtybeg arranged another meeting with the Manchester & Salford. This time, Irene came too. This was on her own suggestion. At first, Murtybeg was doubtful, but then thought it might be a reasonable idea to have two top negotiators rather than one.

  He noted that Winrow greeted Irene as if he already knew her. Perhaps he had been bribed after all. But now, there was little chance of that being done. Winrow went through their latest projections.

  ‘These look to be eminently satisfactory,’ he told them. ‘There is one little problem now though.’

  Neither Irene nor Murtybeg said anything.

  After a pause, Winrow went on.

  ‘If we grant this latest application, your borrowings from the Manchester & Salford will be approaching thirty thousand pounds.’

  ‘And aren’t we worth it?’ Murtybeg said, facetiously.

  ‘I’ve no doubt your business is an excellent one,’ Winrow said. ‘There are, however, two main concerns. The first is that you have few assets on which we can take security. The second is that, in spite of your high profits, your share capital is still very low.’

  ‘That will increase,’ Murtybeg said.

  ‘I’ve no doubt it will, Mr. Ryan. Still, it is low at present.’

  Murtybeg made to speak but Irene stopped him.

  ‘I would make two points to you, Mr. Winrow. The first is this. Your very best security is the quality of contractors for whom we work. I don’t have to tell you, Mackenzie and Brassey are the top contractors in England, or all of Europe for that matter.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Winrow said. ‘There’s Peto & Betts.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ Irene said, ‘And the only one reason we have no contracts with them is that they themselves have no Works in the north of England at present. We could, of course, bid on contracts around London, but it is not our policy to do so at present. I still maintain that the quality of our contracts is the best guarantee you will ever have.’

  Winrow nodded. ‘And what was your second point?’

  ‘If you cannot lend to us, we will have to find a bank that will.’

  A few days later, they received the confirmation of the lending facility from the Manchester & Salford.

  ‘By God, I’d hardly believe it,’ Murtybeg said. ‘You really gave it to Winrow that time.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘and I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering if there is a backhander to him too.’

  ‘Did I say that?’

  ‘You didn’t have to. But in answer to the question, no there was not. You have to deal with these bankers the hard way. And one other thing you must remember, the banks only make money out of lending. We are top flight borrowers, and they know that. Our credit is up there with both Brassey and Mackenzie, and the problem that the bank have is that there are insufficient other businesses of our quality they can lend to.’

  Murtybeg recalled all the references to problems on the railway works that he had read in the Manchester Times, the Bradford Observer, the London Times and many other newspapers.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I’d guess you’re right.’

  ‘And that’s where Danny was too soft,’ she said. ‘He was all bravado. He could never see that when a business gets to a certain level of borrowing, they have the bank over a barrel. Certainly, he had problems with the fact that he had been borrowing in advance on the North Staffordshire line, and when the bank found out the section he was working on had been terminated, they came after him. All he had to do was threaten bankruptcy – then the bank would have had to take an enormous loss, and questions would have been asked. Directors would have lost their jobs. Winrow too. No, when a business is in a tight corner like that, the only option the bank have is to allow their debtor to trade out of it.’

  ‘But they’ll hardly do that unless they believe such a business can trade out of it.’

  ‘Exactly. And we convinced Winrow that we could.’

  ‘Correction,’ Murtybeg said, ‘I did it. If I hadn’t convinced Winrow on that point at my very first meeting with him, there would have been no further meetings. Still, he’s trying to protect the bank’s position, and I think he’s accepted your point that the quality of our customers is far more important than the capital we have in the business.’

  *

  He was still concerned about Irene. She had her ways of working, and even if he was unsure whether bribery had stopped, she had other ways of doing it. He had been amazed at her treatment of the bank. Very few women dealt with banks, and none would dare to treat them like that. He had to acknowledge, though, that her approach had worked. She no longer had any stake in Edwardes & Ryan, she was only an employee, even if a highly paid one. How long could that last though?

  Her ruthlessness became even more apparent. One day, she was going through Roughneen’s wage sheets from the Colne Extension.

  ‘These wages are too high,’ she said.

  ‘Too high?’ Murtybeg echoed. ‘What do you call too high?’

  ‘A shilling a day.’

  ‘Damn it, we can’t push them any lower.’

  ‘Have we tried? I think we can get them far lower.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Pay them nothing at all.’

  This time, Murtybeg was almost speechless. Was the woman mad?

  ‘So how would you propose to do that?’ he asked.

  ‘We pay them in scrip.’

  ‘Scrip! You’re really saying…’

  ‘Think about it. We set up a truck shop on site. Give them their dockets for the amount owing, cashable only at the store. They’d have no choice.’

  ‘Irene, in the name of God…’

  ‘And we could set up a truck bar too. Saturdays only.’

  ‘I’ve never even heard of one of those.’

  ‘Well look around you. On all the other Works, where do the men go on a Saturday? They don’t even get paid on site. The foremen insist on paying them in the nearest bar or shebeen, and that’s where half their money goes by the time the weekend is over.’

  ‘And the other half?’ he asked.

  ‘Don’t forget, we’re feeding them already. What else do they need? Anything they want, they can buy at the truck store. And for both the store and the bar, we can buy in bulk, push our own costs down, and make an excellent profit.’

  ‘But much of that money is needed for starving people back home. You know that as well as I do.’

  ‘You’re beginning to get like Danny. Becoming too soft.’

  ‘That’s not soft, God damn it. It’s reality.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ she said. ‘Two shillings a week cash for their families, the rest in scrip.’

  ‘Fine,’ Murtybeg said, ‘but only on our new contracts.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘and that includes the Colne Extension.’

  *

  Roughneen was astonished when Murtybeg explained the truck system to him. He had seen it operate in other parts of England and understood it well.

  ‘It’s just that I never thought I’d see it working here,’ he said.

  ‘Or maybe didn’t want to, Johnny. Is that it?’

  ‘I don’t know, I’m not sure it would work quite so easy. We’ve said we’re paying a shilling a day cash. We never said anything about truck.’

  They discussed it in detail for the rest of the afternoon. Still, Murtybeg could see that Roughneen was dubious.

  ‘Fair enough,’ Irene said, when Murtybeg got home. ‘Let’s cut him in for ten per cent of the truck store profits, over and above cost. He’ll find ways of doing it then.’

  The next day, Murtybeg received requests from Brasseys regarding the final, smaller contracts on the North Staffordshire.

  He went to discuss it with Irene, but she was not there. Puzzled, he began the work on them himself. He noted that he had some weeks to return the documents, and was thankful for this, not only because he wanted to discuss it with her, but also because he wanted to walk the territory and assess the w
ork involved.

  His clerk handed him a letter. It was marked ‘hand delivery’.

  In it, Mr. Rothwell of Rothwells explained in very few words that they did not recognise Murtybeg’s interpretation of the 1753 Act. They requested Murtybeg’s attendance at the Manchester Probate Court the following week. Little wonder that Irene had disappeared.

  He went into Manchester.

  ‘She doesn’t give in easily,’ Sternberg said.

  ‘Did you think she would?’

  ‘Well, I’ve never met the woman. But I’ll tell you this, Mr. Rothwell must have been thinking about this for quite some time. I wonder what little scheme he’s come up with.’

  ‘How do we find out?’

  ‘It’s like he says. We’ll have to attend the Probate Court.’

  ‘Fine,’ Murtybeg said. ‘But tell me one thing…’

  ‘My stipends?’

  ‘Well…yes.’

  ‘Normally, I work for one shilling an hour.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Murtybeg said uncertainly. ‘But how much do you think a case like this might cost overall?’

  ‘Impossible to say,’ Sternberg said, ‘and that’s the problem. It could be five, ten or even fifteen pounds.’

  ‘It’s just, if we lose…’

  ‘I understand your concerns. Your own means, in cash terms, would be limited, as compared to Edwardes & Ryan. So what I would suggest instead, let’s work on a contingency basis.’

  ‘A contingency…?’

  ‘Very simple. If we win the case, I’ll charge. If we don’t, no charge whatsoever.’

  Murtybeg felt his interest quickening.

  ‘So…if we lose, there is no charge.’

  ‘Exactly. And then there would be no change in your personal circum-stances whatsoever. On the other hand, if we win, I would charge twenty-five pounds flat. This can then be paid directly out of Edwardes & Ryan, rather than your own pocket.’

  Murtybeg was bewildered, and thinking fast.

  ‘I must say, I’d never have thought of that,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know the law could work that way. That would be excellent.’