I Stand With You (Gold Streaks Book 1)

by Sylvie Nathan

  “But until then,” she continues; “we need you to continue with your work.”

  There are some shouts at that, but others in the crowd still them; muttering for silence.

  “This company is all of our future. We want to keep it where it is; one of the country's best. For that, I need you to return to work. You will get redress. I promise you. I am meeting with your representative today. We will discuss ways to address this crisis, and you will be informed of our decisions. But today, I need you – the company needs you – to do your work. To keep us as the best company we can be.”

  Someone at the front applauds. It echoes in the silence; almost-derisive. Then others join it. Soon, they are all shouting, clapping, murmuring approval. Someone at the back sets out the grumbling opening tones of a freedom song. The others join in; harmony breaking through like the sunshine, breaking through the clouds; shining, pale gold, out across the gathered workers there.

  Sue stops; relief stilling her. Her smile is a second flash of sunshine. She hands the loud-hailer back to the security officer. Leaves the terrace through the tall main doors of the company building. They swing shut behind her, echoing in the high, arched hall.

  Inside, Sue feels her legs give way. She hangs onto the door-handle; rests her head on the dark wood; breathes out. Hot tears splash onto her arm; the product of relief.

  Later, in her office, Sue reads through her emails. There is one from Mr Molo, at the union.

  “...the cheek!” Sue murmurs. In her chest, she feels her heart leap; the stress putting strain on it. She fights against the sudden pain.

  “Elspeth!” Sue calls over the intercom.

  She waits. The door opens, and the secretary appears at the doorway, a question in her eyes.

  “Ms Montmorency?” Her smile is open, encouraging.

  “Mr Molo, from the Union, has threatened me with legal action. Could you phone Mr Naidoo at Naidu and Travis? I would like a lawyer.”

  “Yes, Ma'am” She nods, nervous. “Anything else?”

  “If I need help, I'll call you.” Sue promises. “Make that call.”

  Her voice is weighty, grim. The secretary nods and leaves, quickly.

  The silence in Sue's office as she leaves is still; desolate. The only sounds are Elspeth, on the telephone outside the office, and the sound of birdsong, high and indifferently pure, pouring through the window on the left wall. Sue collapses into her chair; heart pounding.

  Chapter 3

  “...And make note of that while I'm gone. Yes. Yes?”

  The legal practice at Naidu and Travis is bustling with energy. Mr Naidu is away overseas, and John Travis is involved with defending a local company owner in a highly-public nepotism trial. That leaves Lisa Marsden, the young, brilliant new associate; in virtual complete charge of the small, teeming establishment.

  Right now, Lisa is on her way from the office up the corridor, shouting instructions over one shoulder at a partner in the office behind; a box of legal notes under her arm.

  The secretary has appeared before her; an elegantly-dressed woman in her early forties, with well-styled brown hair and the scent of lavender water.

  “Yes, Mrs Howard?”

  “There's a telephone call for Mr. Naidu; from Gold Ridge mining. She says they need a legal representative?” Mrs Howard makes the phrase a question; her shoulder lifted eloquently.

  “Oh, shit.” Lisa swears, intense. “Gold Ridge mining? Now?”

  “I'm afraid so, Miss.”

  Gold Ridge mining is a major client of theirs. One of the most prominent companies in town, they are cherished clients. This has to be handled well.

  “Oh, well.” Lisa walks past a little way, leaves the box in the office across the passage; turns back to the secretary. She wipes her hand on her tweed trousers; shrugs eloquently.

  “I'll just have to do it myself; won't I?” She smiles at the old lady, and they share a conspiratory grin. “She's still on the line?”

  “Yes, Miss.”

  “Right, then.” She strides across to the office. “Hey, Titus!” She shouts over her shoulder to her colleague, still in the office.

  “Yes, Lisa?” A clean-shaven African man in mid thirties, puts his head around the door, dressed in his full, black woolen suit, looking at her questioningly.

  “Can you handle things here for me today? Something's happening, and I'll need to go out.”

  “Okay!” He says cheerfully. “Not too much chaos here to handle.” He smiles.

  The place is constantly chaotic; both of them know that. As the best-known legal practice for corporate concerns in the province; one of the best in the country; they are never peaceful. And with only five lawyers working full-time, and up to ten bar students, there are never enough people for the jobs at hand.

  “I know I can rely on it.” Lisa smiles, wryly, and makes her way to the front office.

  Back in her office, Lisa wipes unruly hair out of her eyes to the loose plait down her back; and sighs. The woman from Gold Ridge mining had been clear; this is a matter of some urgency. This could be Lisa's most important case thus far. And there is no-one here to help her. She is on her own.

  “Gold Ridge Mining.” Lisa mutters under her breath; casting her eye over some files she has taken from the main office; the history of the association between Naidu and Travis and the company.

  Lisa's fingers tap over the keys, as she searches the Internet for news items; getting herself up-to-date with the company and its history.

  So far, there are no previous headlines about corruption, mistreatment of workers, or malfunction. The company seems clean, honest; steadfast. Lisa raises her eyebrows; looks for the company website.

  On the homepage, the CEO stares out at her. Piercing ice-blue eyes; styled hair; perfectly groomed. She can practically smell the discreet, expensive perfume and the subtle aura of wealth and power. Her eyes widen, then narrow.

  “Quite some lady,” she breathes; shakes her head.

  Something about those blue eyes; that slim, striking face with its authoritarian expression, has unsettled her. She feels measured; as if the gaze weighed her and found her wanting. But she cannot help also that that piercing gaze stirs her, as if it looks straight into her heart. She shakes her head.

  “You work too hard, Ms Marsden.” She says to herself. “You need sleep, that's all. It's getting to you.”

  She smiles. No chance of a rest for the conceivable future. Not with Gold Ridge mining breathing down her neck. She has been called to be present tomorrow, at a meeting between the CEO and a panel of workers' union representatives. She shakes her head and bends over her work. Reading, preparing, planning.

  “I'll sleep tomorrow night. After our meeting.” She says; half to herself and half to the disconcerting woman looking out at her from the webpage.

  She shakes her head at her fancifulness and turns back to the page in her notebook on the desk. Tomorrow seems as if it is never far enough ahead to fit in a good day's work.

  Chapter 4

  “Lisa Marsden.” Lisa shows her passport to the man at the gate. “I'm from Naidu and Travis; the law firm? I have a meeting scheduled here for ten?”

  The guard goes over to the office; fetches a list of visitors.

  “You're here for the negotiations?” He makes an expansive gesture, presses the lever to lift the bar across the path. “The main building is straight ahead. Parking is on the right. There's...um...a presence? Of workers in the main parking area. Use the side entrance.” He recommends.

  Lisa thanks him, draws a breath, and drives her Volvo through the entrance.

  Out of curiosity, she slows as she passes the main parking area. A group of workers – perhaps sixty? - are seated there. Silent, resolved. There are signs with them; painted on board and nailed to handles. Lisa reads “Down with Gold Ridge”, “Justice!” and “Shame on human-rights abusers”; painted in red paint on the wooden signs. She shakes her head, wearily. There is too much of this – too much explo
itation; and she is sure the workers are at least partly in the right; but also too much violence in return. She wants to see this case resolved beneficially, for all parties – the oppressed and the accused – if she can.

  She stops in the parking lot off to the side. The main building faces her; imposing and impressive. Four levels of faced, plastered brick; white, cold, imposing.

  “Here goes.” Lisa says to herself; shuts the door and crosses the parking lot to the side entrance.

  Her heeled shoes make precise staccato notes across the tar, crossing to the door. Inside, she dusts her hands across the corduroy of her trousers; wipes her reddish, curling hair back from her eyes, where stray wisps have escaped the plaited bun, and takes the stairs to the top office.

  A mirror on the wall outside the office shows her her own reflection – narrow face; wide, dark-red painted lips; warm dark-brown eyes and well-brushed reddish hair; scraped back to hold unruly curls away from her face. She blinks at the image; consults her watch. Five minutes before she is called in.

  “Good morning?”

  She smiles at the secretary; a soft-eyed, dark-haired young woman, more Lisa's type. Her face makes Lisa think of her last girlfriend. She pushes the memory aside, and takes out her business card.

  “Good morning. I'm Lisa Marsden; with the law firm – Naidu and Travis?” She makes it a question, and the woman nods. “I'm here for a meeting with Ms Montmorency.”

  “Yes. We were expecting you, Ms Marsden. Would you like to take a seat?”

  The young woman indicates a long bench across the room, covered in white leather upholstery.

  Lisa sighs inwardly; sits down. She is restless. She has impatience with companies who exploit the poor and make themselves richer; little time for their dealings with the Unions – who also, she reflects, exploit the majority for their gain – but, mostly, she wants to be out of this office; away from the soft young woman who reminds her of Prudence and the hurt that goes with memory. She had thought that long gone, but it seems still to be there, after more than a year.

  After a moment, a tall black man walks in, disrupting Lisa's reflective thoughts. He looks solid; a fighter; and Lisa feels herself stiffen instinctively; taking a dislike to the arrogance in his manner.

  “I am here for a meeting with Ms Montmorency.” He says to the secretary. Matter of fact; as if he owned the place.

  “My colleague, Mr. Dlamini, is also here on union business.” He jerks his chin, indicating a tall, spare man who has entered the office behind him. The two of them stand at the desk; crowding the secretary. Lisa feels herself stiffen at the inherent threat in that.

  The secretary calls through to the office; looks up, unruffled.

  “You can go through; Ms Montmorency is ready to meet with you now.” She indicates the door on her right. “You, too, Ms Marsden.” She says to Lisa; her voice more friendly.

  Lisa smiles, groans inwardly at old memories that tear open at the woman's smile; so like Prudence; nods to her is salutation and walks through.

  Inside, the office is cavernous; high-ceiling, sparse furnishing, pale, dense carpet. And bright. The light slants in through long, tall windows, blinding Lisa temporarily with its dazzle in her left eye. She puts up a hand to shelter her eyes, and blinks a few times.

  “Good morning, Miss Marsden?”

  Lisa's blurred vision resolves itself to a small, petite woman in a pale knee-length jacket, matched pale trousers and a well-cut blue blouse. It is her eyes that strike her: almost a physical blow; the sheer power of that pale blue gaze. It rivets Lisa, so that she is silent, rooted to the spot. She quickly recovers her equilibrium; blinks to clear her head.

  “Um...Yes. Good morning. Lisa Marsden, corporate lawyer; Naidu and Travis.” She smiles, widely, holds out her hand for her most professional handshake.

  “Yes. Good to meet you.” Is that ironic? Lisa can't tell. “I am Susan Montmorency, CEO of Gold Ridge mining.”

  Her voice is low, polished; perfectly-enunciated. It strikes Lisa almost as much as the eyes.

  “These two...um...gentlemen, I think you have already met?” She asks Lisa, smiling savagely.

  Good one. Lisa cannot help but smile at the way this small, elegant woman has put these two beefy, arrogant men in their place, with a single well-timed full-stop.

  “Yes. We have.” Lisa shakes hands with the men.

  “Shall we?” Sue gestures eloquently to the table on the left-hand side of the room. The group move round and take their seats; all propriety and order; pleasant.

  That is the last orderly, pleasantry-filled moment in the room.

  “...we have told you, Ms Montmorency. We are not taking no for an answer.”

  Mr Molo's voice is insistent, loud; echoing off the office walls. He has been going on in this vein for the last half-hour; and it is starting to set Lisa's nerves on edge.

  Still, she reflects, as she glances at the paper before her where she has been taking notes; there is a definite case here. And it does seem that the company is a bit high-handed about the worker's safety, and that the complaints are not being addressed.

  “That is so; as you have told me for the last half hour.” Sue; snapping back at him. “But, as I have told you; we cannot proceed, until you have given me real evidence. Something I can work with.”

  “We have told you; we have the evidence. We just cannot disclose it to you.”

  The man crashes a palm onto the polished wood of the desk. The sound echoes off the walls of this discreet, elegant space; its utter wrongness shattering.

  “Until you can; there is no going forward with this case.” Sue's voice is flint; striking on metal; meeting his tone and surpassing it. “If there is no proof, you have no case. And I would thank you to take that information back to your...union with you.”

  Lisa flinches inwardly at the authority in that voice, and the indrawn hiss of breath around the table that follows it. This could become ugly. And her client is only compromising herself by rising to their taunts.

  “Ms Montmorency, if I could suggest, as your legal advisor...” Lisa begins, her tone calming.

  The slim woman whips round to face her.

  “As my legal advisor, you do not dictate company policy.” The crisp, authoritarian voice scalds Lisa, but the ice-blue eyes are cold.

  Lisa feels her own temper, not-inconsiderable, rise to match it; but takes a breath.

  “No, Ms Montmorency, I don't dictate company policy. But I would suggest, as your legal advisor, a little...delicacy?” Lisa supplies.

  Her voice is shaking with anger, scathing. No-one has spoken to her like that since her bar training, almost ten years ago.

  “I meet delicacy with delicacy, Ms Marsden.” The voice is cold. “And insult, I meet with intolerance.”

  The eyes hold a warning; for Lisa as much as for the union men.

  The rest of the room is silent. The eyes of the two women lock for a moment: clear ice-blue meeting warm brown in a sudden, sparking moment. Lisa feels her blood rush in her ears and somewhere inside, her heart pounds, thumping deep, even pulses in her chest. She looks away, to break the contact. Her heart is pounding as it has never done before. She breathes; thinks for a second.

  “Insult is not to be tolerated,” she agrees, looking down. “But indelicacy is dangerous to court cases.”

  The tension eases. Sue sits back. Is that a smile? Lisa looks away. The moment passes.

  “Quite so.” Sue says it, distantly. “Now, gentlemen; I have a meeting with our engineering division later. If we could adjourn, and agree to differ until further notice?” Sue gestures to the men to either side of her. They exhale, wearily.

  “We will be back, with our lawyers...shall we say Thursday?” Mr Molo replies.

  “Thursday?” Sue considers it a moment; fingers laced. “Thursday it is. Same time, same place?” She smiles: bright, brittle; insincere. Stands at her place. The men scrape back their chairs; stand. Lisa stands too.

  The two U
nion men leave. Lisa is about to follow them; her back turned, when she hears a small sound; a muffled gasp, in the room behind her.

  She turns back to the table. Sue Montmorency is leaning on it, breathing heavily. Her chest is heaving. One hand is clasped tight to it; covering her heart. Her breath is ragged; audible.

  “Ms Montmorency?” Lisa goes back to the table; stands a respectful distance from the petite, fine-boned woman; leaning, hunched and gasping, at the table's edge.

  Sue gestures sharply; a waved hand aimed towards the door.

  “No...no. You can...leave me. I'm fine. I'm...fine.” She manages between breaths. She sits down; clutching her hand to her chest. There is no sign of the composed, authoritative figure of moments before. Here is a strained, pained woman on the edge of collapse.

  “Can I...call someone?” Lisa asks, hesitantly.

  She is not sure what to do. She has not moved, despite Sue's gesture for her to leave. Something keeps her rooted to the spot. Something from that moment when their gaze fastened on each other's eyes. A shared admiration? Lisa is not sure. Nothing could make her leave at this moment, though. Not until she is sure this woman is safe. In another context, she thinks; this could be a friend.

  “There's some water, over there at my desk. Do you think you could...bring me some?” Sue asks.