by Graham Adams
‘You wanted to see me?’
‘Does this belong to you?’ Whippsey pointed to the crumpled sheet.
‘As a matter of fact it does, Mr Whippsey.’ Edmund answered.
‘What are you trying to do here, son?’ Bumble pushed his glasses back.
Edmund sighed. ‘He’s going to sack me anyway so I’ll give him both barrels’ he thought. ‘This report gives you the reason that you are losing money. They are the facts, even if you don’t believe them. Why should I care, it’s not my company.’
‘Why should I take any notice of this Edmund?’
‘Because I care about all the people you employ and at this rate you won’t have any business to employ them with, will you?’ Your Accountant has tried to tell you, but it seems that he’s had the same response, am I right?’ Edmund gave him a defiant look, and walked out of his office, only just noticing that he hadn’t closed the door when he went in.
The main outer office housed three girls and a young man. They were sitting at their desks staring at Edmund as he stormed past.
‘I’d better go and clear my desk for what it’s worth,’ he thought to himself.
Sheila caught hold of him as he was going in his office.
‘What the hell is going on Edmund?’
He realised that he was still gripping the stone, and put it back in his pocket.
‘I made a mistake Sheila, sorry I lost my temper, I shouldn’t have said those things to him. He’s the boss, and bosses demand respect.’ He started to clear his desk, smiling at himself, as there weren’t enough personal items to fill a large envelope.
‘Are you leaving right now, Edmund?’ Sheila asked.
I’ve made my mind up Sheila, it’s not just the job, it’s everything else, I can’t explain, but it’s time to move on!’
Sheila wanted to hug him, but that’s not what Personnel Managers do.
‘Look Edmund don’t go before I’ve got your paperwork, you know what I mean, just sit at your desk. I’ll be just a minute.’
Edmund sat coolly at the desk, he felt much better, the decision he had made was the right one, and he just knew it. Ian walked into his office with a big grin on his face.
‘You’ll never guess what has happened Edmund?’
‘What Ian? Old Mr Bumble had a heart attack?’ Edmund asked smiling.
‘No better than that, he has given me your report, and told me to implement the changes you recommended. I don’t believe it mate. Ian then looked at Edmund’s empty desk. ‘No you can’t leave, not now, we’ve won.’
Sheila arrived back with his cheque, and employment card. She did give him a hug after all, and tears were in her eyes.
‘Give my love to Auntie Winnie please Edmund. God’s speed, I hope you find happiness wherever you go.’
Edmund shook Ian’s hand. ‘Over to you mate, don’t make a mess of it. If you make it work, and he offers you a piece of the business, take it, with both hands.’
Ian gave him a hug. ‘Thanks Edmund thanks a lot!’
It was around lunchtime, he was walking along the shingle for the last time. He’d said his goodbyes to Winnie, packed his small battered suitcase, and he was ready for the next adventure.
Edmund made a small detour before heading to the bus station, which brought him on the route past the Pelican pub. Olive had just opened for the morning business and was shaking the doormat against the outside wall.
‘Coming in for a quick coffee, Edmund?’ She asked.
Edmund stepped into the empty bar and settled on the nearest table to the door. Spike suddenly appeared, and as usual leaned his huge head on Edmund’s knee.
‘He’s not playing with you today Spike!’ Olive shouted from behind the bar.
Edmund looked closely at his mouth; there was no ball in it. He just sat on Edmund’s foot and leaned heavily on his shin, Edmund patted his very smooth muscular back, and Spike looked back at him with his little black eye and gave a little whine, as if he had realised there was something different happening today.
Alice brought the coffee, and with a little wave indicated ‘no charge’ for it.
‘You leaving us?’ she asked
Edmund nodded, ‘I’ll miss you Olive, and you Spike.’ He then drank his coffee, gave the bull terrier a final pat and he was gone.
He needed to pass Divito’s, so he thought he would pop in for the last time. Old man Divito was wiping the tables, and it looked like he was the only one there.
‘Mr Divito, is Pauline about?’ Edmund asked.
He shook his head, ‘in Canterbury today’
‘Will you give her a message from me?’ Her father looked puzzled. ‘Tell her from me,...er that I... tell her from me goodbye. Will you tell her please?’
‘I will tell her. Where are you going, young man?’ Divito inquired, Edmund was already heading outside, tears streaming from his eyes, and he didn’t look back!
‘Goodbye Pauline. I did love you, Just Walk on by.’ He said to himself.
He held the stone in his hand all the way to the bus station. He had decided to go west. He had still got the money from the Pirate station, and had saved a bit and still had the final cheque from Whippseys, so west it was.
Deal bus station was very small, there was room for the buses to turn around, and there was only one little shelter. Next door there was a little cafe and that was it. There were no buses waiting to leave and just a few passengers in the shelter. He went to the back of the queue not looking at anyone, when a smiling face turned around.
‘Edmund, you know me, don’t you?’
‘Rosalind, so sorry, I just wasn’t looking.’ She was shorter than Pauline, with blonde curly hair and the most beautiful blue eyes! She gave him a hug. ‘Have you heard how Paul is Rosalind?’ Edmund asked.
‘That’s good news. He got that job with the touring company. They’ve been rehearsing till now. His first performance is somewhere in Wales, I think. He sends me a letter now and then. What are you doing here Edmund?’
‘Fancy a coffee? It’s a long story.’ Edmund answered disconsolately
As they walked next door she put her arm in his, she could feel he was a bit down. ‘I wish I’d met someone like Rosalind’, he thought to himself, as he told her what had happened at the Factory.
‘I’m sorry about Pauline; I know that you loved her. Paul told me in one of his letters, I hope that you don’t mind.’ She said.
Edmund stared into his cup and shook his head. Rosalind put her hand on his for a moment, which just made it worse for him.
He composed himself. ‘I don’t know where I’m going Rosalind, but I just want a new start, do you understand?’
They got up as a bus pulled in. ‘I’m going west Rosalind, I don’t know where, but far from here!’ He looked up at the front of the bus’ It said ‘Folkestone’. They walked outside to the shelter. ‘This one will do for me.’ He said.
Rosalind looked into his eyes and wanted to say more, but she just hugged him tight. He paid for his ticket, climbed on the upper deck and looked down at the blonde young woman. She waved furiously.
‘Goodbye Rosalind, goodbye Deal.’ he said to himself.
Edmund knew Folkestone from the time when he and Paul got off the ferry from France. He had no intention to stay long in the town, but decided that the best thing would be to stay overnight in a B&B have a walk around and maybe get some ideas before moving on. He settled on a small hotel near the station, parked his bags and went to find the Acropolis cafe that he knew so well.
The Cypriot family were still running it, and it felt good to be there. He even imagined that Paul was sitting at the table chatting up the girls a usual. The Jukebox had the usual pop records, but it certainly was the only one with Beethoven’s ‘Fur Elise’, and Liszt’s ‘Leibestraum’. He played them for old times’ sake. ‘One more song’ he thought to himself. Dionne Warwick’s song ‘Walk on by’ was still on the selector, but his heart just couldn’t take it.
He shook
the hand of Spyros as he left, not sure if he remembered him or not.
‘I bet he would have remembered Paul.’ He laughed to himself.
As he walked around the Folkestone town centre, he stopped to look into a baker’s shop window extolling all the delicious temptations they had on offer.
The sign above the window said it all. ‘Strickland’s Family Bakers.’ Edmund succumbed, and went into the shop to purchase one of their jam doughnuts. As the assistant gave him his change, Edmund remarked.
‘We used to make these at the bakery last year.’
The older of the two ladies turned and looked at him.
‘I know you did’
Edmund was shocked. ‘How do you know?’ He asked.
‘There was a man called Paul, he worked with my sister and she fancied him, but he got the sack. She told me it was for larking about, and he was putting far too much filling in them.’ She pointed at the doughnut in Edmund’s hand. The two women giggled about that. ‘Where is he, with you in town?’
Edmund shook his head. ‘No, he’s in London, acting in a play.’
‘What happened to the Pirate job?’ The other assistant asked. ‘My cousin who lives in Deal told me; you went there over Christmas time’.
‘We were sacked!’ Edmund answered.
‘Of course, we should have known.’ They were still laughing as he left the shop. He was eating the doughnut as he walked along the street, and as usual some of the jam filling leaked out and fell on the floor.
Edmund smiled to himself, picturing Paul with a broomstick in hand entertaining the girls in the confectionery section, singing ‘A new kind of love’, and imitating the one and only Frank Sinatra!
Most of the buildings around the station were of limestone and over the years had become blackened by smoke from the old steam trains and the wild weather that sometimes lashes the coast. The blackness didn’t endear Edmund to the area, which made it more urgent for him to find a way out of there.
The entrance to the station had the usual timetables on the walls as well as some old but bright posters. One of the posters advertised the coastal line to Bournemouth, with a beautiful stylised picture of a sweeping sandy bay and a colourful pier. He was immediately sold, as he remembered that Ben’s mother wanted to live there. He decided that that was where he was going on the spot. He smiled at the ticket clerk behind the office window.
‘Yes sir, what are you wanting today?’ The clerk asked him.
‘I want to go to Bournemouth, is there a train tomorrow?’ Edmund asked
‘There is a train that goes direct to Bournemouth, which leaves here every two hours. The timetable is over there.’ The clerk pointed over Edmund’s shoulder, so he walked across the hall and looked at the departure times. It took in all the coastal towns including Brighton and Hastings, overall taking about five hours. The departure time of nine am looked fine.
He returned to the clerk. ‘I’ll take a single to Bournemouth. I want to get the nine o’clock train, will it be full? Do I need to book a seat?’
‘That will be two pounds ten shillings sir, and Tuesdays is not a busy day, you can just walk on the train, platform two.’ The clerk said.
The little B&B near the railway station didn’t do evening meals, so he went in search of a fish and chip shop where he could sit and eat them. Spyros’s baguette had soon worn off, and he was quite hungry again.
The next morning was cold and wet, but that didn’t matter. The train was soon whizzing out of the station, no smoke or smell as the line was electrified. The train eventually pulled into Bournemouth and the atmosphere was quite different to Folkestone. The sun was shining and the station was well turned out with flowers in hanging baskets and smiling faces of children anticipating their days on the beach.
There was a local bus heading for the town centre and in a few short minutes he was in the throngs of holidaymakers. It was a happy time for all. A local news stand was selling the Echo and he went to a very high class cafe called Fortes, paid for a cup of tea and a thick slice of cake, and sat down to look for somewhere to stay.
The top floor bedsit in a converted house in Crabton Close Road in Boscombe seemed to meet his needs, so he paid the ten pounds deposit. It suited his meagre needs alright, One large room with cooking facilities, room to eat, and room to sleep, very basic, but clean. He shared bathroom facilities with the floor below, but he didn’t mind that.
He was very lucky to get an interview the very next day for a job, just down the road in Pokesdown. James & Co, a sizeable wine merchant that did its business in Bournemouth and the New Forest. They offered him the job as manager of the whole operation. After he had started, he subsequently found out that he was the last of a long line of managers, most of them hadn’t lasted more than a week.
A few days into the job, it was clear to him that there were many problems at the place. The biggest one by far was the pilferage by the staff. In fact most of the staff in the yard was well out of it by lunchtime. He tried at first to get on with all sections of the staff, but they were very suspicious of him, and kept themselves to themselves. But he had a job to do, and was determined to do it. He lay in his bed at the bedsit one evening and it came to him. He decided to do what he had done at the shoe factory, present to the owner a report that solved his problem. He was determined to do the same for the two partners, who were father and son.
Without the knowledge of the staff, he started to keep a detailed dossier on each one. The yard staff helped themselves to bottles of beer, drank them and replaces them in a lower case in the stack. The drivers often took an extra case on the lorry and disposed of it during the run. Once, he worked on a van as a driver’s assistant for the day. They were on the New Forest run. It was common to pull in on a lay by near Brockenhurst.
The driver pulled out several bottles from underneath his seat and commenced drinking them. Recently Edmund had stopped drinking, as it played havoc with his skin, making it very blotchy, and it was embarrassing. The driver accepted his excuse, and after a few bottles, relaxed. He showed Edmund the nearest oak tree where they had hammered the bottle tops into the bark. There were hundreds of them. They called it the’ Worthy Green tree’ after the maker’s name of beer, ‘Worthington Green Shield’ that the drivers heavily consumed.
He spent time with the cellar staff next. The area covered by the cellar was vast. It reached underneath several properties adjacent to the shop. Edmund wondered if the neighbours actually knew what was underneath them. Ignorance was bliss, no doubt. The drinking here was a more secretive affair. The men used ‘breakages’ as an excuse, and it was amazing how much Bristol Cream, Amontillado and fine dry sherry was broken. The foreman even showed him the broken bottles. It seemed strange that only the best sherry bottles were ‘accidentally’ broken, especially as it was difficult to trace any pools of sherry anywhere! As much as he tried to encourage them, none of the staff could do their work efficiently after lunch, and it seemed that the bosses were blissfully unaware of what was going on.
One morning after his fortnight of assessment had passed; he went into Richard James’s office to ask for a day off. When Richard asked why, he told him that he was putting a report together. The following day he asked whether he could present it to both the partners. Richard was just a couple of years older than Edmund. He had obviously had a more comfortable upbringing, a private school, and clearly never wanted for anything. He felt no resentment towards Richard, but he felt that Richard had not accepted him; maybe he thought that Edmund was too ambitious perhaps.
Richard agreed that he would wait until the trucks were loaded and on the road, before he called him into his office. He agreed that there was no need to raise any suspicions with the yard staff.
The father and son partners sat opposite Edmund, who was seated on a normal office chair. It felt like an inquisition. He had given them each a copy of his findings and calculations at the start of the day so that they had time to digest it. The partners both looked
very serious, and in some ways that is just what he expected considering the gravity of the report.
Mr James senior spoke first. ‘Edmund, I would like to thank you for this report. May I say that I’m not surprised at it, and of course it belies the lack of control that has gone on for many years? Don’t you agree, Richard?’
Richard was more aggressive to Edmund. ‘Yes this is all very well, but what are the conclusions and recommendations. Reports like this are no good without them.’
‘Thank you, Richard, you are correct.’ He handed them both another sheet of paper headed with the same words as Richard had wanted. They both sat and read the paper, and Edmund didn’t give Richard time to respond.
‘It doesn’t take an Einstein to see the value of what you are losing, but it’s a bit harder to know what to do to make it stop.’
