Chapter 10: No Matter What the Future Brings

Jim accused me of having a death wish when I told his mum that she could have sex in the afternoon if she insisted on sleeping alone at night. You simply didn’t say things like that to Pat. What I did the Friday after she and I had our discussion truly was a leap off a very high cliff. I brought three firms of solicitors together in one room. I thought there might be a collective noun for a group of legal men – like a pride of lions or a school of whales – but I couldn’t find anything, so in my mind I called them an ambulance chase of lawyers.

Patrick O’Malley, of Spence, Griere and Spence, had set up the meeting with Gerald Graham, of McTurk Associates, for nine o’clock, although we were kept waiting until almost half past the hour. The third solicitor in the room was Hamish, of McDougal and Paterson, who is Jim’s brother-in-law. At five minutes before four, the previous afternoon, Paddy had informed the London Stock Exchange that there were going to be big changes in a quoted company, namely Robinson Engineering. Trading in their shares was immediately suspended, pending further information. We were in GG’s office to give him the glad tidings.

I have known Paddy for less than a month, but I have known GG, as Gerald likes his friends to call him, practically all my life. I’ve known Hamish as a lawyer for a couple of weeks although I did meet him briefly at Jim’s wedding. To me gee-gees were horses and I used to think it funny when Uncle Albert brought the man onto the shop floor. These visits stopped when Albert had his second heart attack although GG still regularly calls at the company offices. He is no taller than I am, but his fifty-inch waist makes him an imposing figure. Standing behind his vast desk, he seemed to take up more than his share of the air in the room.

Paddy, Hamish and I are in our thirties. Paddy is beginning to slacken a little at the edges but Hamish, with four kids under eight, and me, with my hundred pregnant sheep, look fairly sleek. We lined up on the opposite side of the desk, dressed like soldiers on parade; each of us standing exactly an arm’s length apart. GG had a stiff neck and had to move his whole body to turn his head from one to the other. He may deserve sympathy as a victim of arthritis, but I ascribed his condition to the rolls of fat visible above his collar. Have any of you noticed yet that I don’t much like GG?

“I saw you crossing the eighth as we were playing the fourteenth on Sunday, Paddy. I don’t suppose we’ll have many more days like that now we’re into November.” That brought a reminiscent smile to my face. I had spent the day with Professor Gardner and her students, rambling around a glen I had heard of but never visited before. I had missed the last outing of the botany club five weeks before, climbing instead into Dave’s lorry and beginning a new life. In fact, it had been an idyllic few days, rather like in a Hitchcock film where the hero is lulled into thinking his troubles are over before his real problems begin. The best day was Tuesday when Great Uncle Albert at the age of ninety-four, made an honest woman of Ellen Henderson, his mistress for almost forty years.

There were several unusual features about the ceremony. Paddy had set everything up to have the registrar attend the Home in Maidens for a small, private ceremony. Ellen’s legion of friends reneged, and we finished up with a coach load from Dumfries, including the minister of her church, who insisted on being there to bless the civil union. We began the walk down the aisle at reception, not more than ten paces from the recreation room where the knot was to be tied. On the way, we called into the four rooms where the occupants were confined to bed.

In two of them, the ladies were too frail to do more than smile, but in the other two the bride, resplendent in a cream-coloured suit, sat on the bed chatting about past weddings – bitter-sweet to watch, believe me. When we finally arrived in front of the registrar who was flanking the minister, Albert was waiting in a wheelchair. After I handed over the bride, I had to move round to his side, since I was also the best man. Albert insisted on standing for the ceremony and it became a bit crowded with Paddy and I on each side of him trying to look invisible as we held him up beside a smiling Ellen. He managed to stay awake throughout the ceremony, although he had a little nap during the speeches.

Later, Paddy got a bit drunk, and Doctor Sheila spent most of the evening dancing with the minister and me. I had thought nothing about that – there were very few men present and most of them had left their dancing years behind. It was only a few remarks he had made as we waited for GG to deign to see us, that made me realise that Paddy had not been happy about me romancing his girl. I would have pointed out that I was on the floor for every dance with partners ranging from a school-leaver of sixteen to a sprightly lady who was coy about her age, although her roommate whispered that she was ‘only’ eighty-eight.

We were called to the presence before I could explain, so the atmosphere with Paddy was a little chilly when we entered GG’s office. He was now smilingly concluding his discussion on golf and GG was manoeuvering his massive bulk to focus on Hamish, an enquiring look forming on his lardy features. He barely let his eyes glance at me as he swung round. I waited until he had quivered to a complete standstill before I spoke.

“I hold proxies for forty-seven per cent of the equity in Robinson Engineering and I will be making sweeping changes, beginning at eight am on Monday.” I waited while the leviathan rotated its bulk to face Paddy once again, the enquiring look still in place, although there was now a hint of colour rising in his flabby cheeks. For a moment, I wondered if Paddy would stick to the plan, but he did, letting the silence develop. He did, however, have trouble meeting GG’s eyes.

That got me thinking. I was looking at a fat old man, but my companion was seeing a formidable opponent. I suppose Paddy is in his late thirties, self-assured and confident but he is wary of GG. His company has been giving legal advice to Robinson’s for twenty years that I know of. He must be more than competent, and he will be difficult to shift. I still believe that I have the resources to defeat him, but it might be a lot smarter to leave him an avenue for dignified escape. We had only been in the office five minutes, and I was already considering changing our plan.

I read somewhere that one of the great military thinkers of the past said that a battle plan does not survive the first shot. I have a sinking feeling that it might have been a remark made to his orderly by General Custer as he left the fort for a quiet canter along the banks of the Little Big Horn. GG was talking again to Paddy, querying the number of proxies at my disposal; he had calculated thirty-nine or forty-five. Where, pray, did the forty-seven come from? Paddy explained and had to deal with a supplementary question about the dates from which I could wield my power.

That in turn, led to the revelation that I had permanent power of attorney over all Albert’s assets, business and personal. “Tricky with a client that age, Paddy. The courts are very conscious of the dangers of persuasion.” He left it at that. “I drew up the deed, of course, and was one of the witnesses to his signature. The other witness was Doctor Sheila Anderson, his personal physician who has had charge of his case for the past eight years.” Game, set and match to Paddy, I would have thought.

I was learning to respect GG. He was faced with a difficult situation and had so far succeeded in keeping control. His questions about my proxies brought him perilously close to one of my secret weapons, so I decided it was time to divert his attention. “Mrs. Albert Robinson will assume the duties of Managing Director. She will begin interviewing the present management at nine o’clock on Monday morning. GG continued to look at Paddy, but he could not prevent his eyes flicking to me; I saw intrigue but no surprise. I was sure he knew about the wedding, and I wondered if he and Philip shared the same spy in the Home.

“That’s not the way things are done,” he told Paddy, in a gentle voice. “The Annual General Meeting of the company will be held in a little under three weeks. My secretary will put your proposal on the agenda, and I personally guarantee that it will be fully considered by the board.” For the first time, he turned his formidable gaze on me. “You have been with the company for many years, young man, but the view from the cubby hole you occupy as maintenance engineer hardly gives you much insight into the complexities of running a business. Nor does a personnel manager, however competent, have the experience, the dignitas, if I may be allowed to use the word, to be CEO.” I smiled at him, waiting for Hamish to respond to his cue.

“I dare say you have the right of the legal argument,” Hamish quietly mused, almost as if he was thinking out loud. “The fact is that with nearly half the stock in his pocket, Fred owns the house. As we say in my part of the world, it’s up to him to make a kirk or a mill of it. You and the board can delay him, of course, but in the end, he will prevail, rescuing or ruining the company almost at his whim.”

For the first time, GG was rattled, turning to me faster than I thought he was capable of. “This business plan of yours,” he sneered. “Does it bear any passing resemblance to the one you prepared ten years ago.” He turned back to Hamish. “Perhaps Fred hasn’t told you that his Uncle Albert put that plan in the bin without even looking at it.” He turned back to me, his voice now loud and hectoring. “Well? Is it the same plan, Fred?” He made my name sound like a curse. “More or less,” I grinned at him.

“The financial plan has been prepared by David Matthews, one of the most respected accountants in Britain,” Hamish continued smoothly and calmly. “He has accepted Fred’s invitation to join the board at the AGM. Fred himself will be appointed to the Chairmanship; his third nominee will be disclosed on the day. The business plan has been fully updated and has already attracted a good deal of interest, I understand.” It was my turn again. “Immediately after the AGM, I will be travelling to Europe with Bob Mathieson to meet prospective clients for our services.”

This was the critical moment, and my mind was racing as I reviewed all I knew of the relationship between GG and Robinson’s. Our original plan was to sack his law firm and give the job to Hamish. Paddy had already declined since there was a gentleman’s agreement in place amongst the local solicitors not to pinch clients from each other. It sounded a bit too cozy to me, but what do I know about the law and lawyers? Now I was considering retaining GG, but I had to find something that would compensate Hamish for the loss of a lucrative contract. He had already picked up extra business when I persuaded Pat to sell up and move to Tarbert. Would that be enough?

Dave had found nothing in his study of Robinson’s books that even hinted at bad legal advice from GG. I decided to risk Hamish’s wrath, but I was not going to offer GG anything on a plate. Let him persuade me to keep him on. I was counting on the old man being realist enough to recognise that he could not beat me, but would that be enough to make him join me? “Sit down, why don’t you,” GG smiled. “It seems we have a great deal to discuss.” As we settled, he lifted the phone and ordered Janet to bring in coffee and some of these glazed doughnuts, if there are any left. From the subsequent delay, I guessed that Janet, whoever she was, had sent the office junior out to buy more of the delicacies.

The atmosphere in the office improved markedly but was not as sweet as the pastries. GG was still in command, turning first to Paddy, who emphatically declared that his sole purpose was to represent Albert’s interests. After a few shrewd questions established that I had total control of the old man’s assets; in sober fact, Paddy is only present because I pay his fees. As I listened to him, I became aware that I no longer saw GG as a fat old man; I had finally felt the power of his mind. My last doubts of his ability disappeared when he turned his attention to me.

He smiled at me with every appearance of fondness. “The first time I saw you, Fred, was standing at a milling machine. I was in the workshop with Albert, and you were perhaps fourteen. It must have been school holidays, although in those days I still occasionally worked on a Saturday.” He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “Albert told me to watch your face. He said that engineering was done in the mind. ‘The lad has an image of the finished piece in his head. All his hands are doing is discarding the metal that stands between him and that image. You can’t teach that. It’s bred in the bone.’ I could hear the respect – aye, and a touch of envy. He never was much good on the machines.”

Talk about damning with faint praise! He established that I was a good engineer and a worthy possessor of the Robinson name and heritage. At the same time, he emphasised that I was inexperienced and naive. My place, he implied, was on the shop floor and not in the boardroom. GG finally turned to Hamish, who gave him the legal equivalent of name, rank and serial number. There were no smiles between the two men, and I was aware of an increase in tension in the room; the champions had just entered the lists.

Paddy, Hamish and I had been talking for a week on conference calls to set up this meeting. By this point, we had agreed, GG would be sufficiently softened up by Paddy and me, the picadors, for Hamish to run his sword over the shoulder of the older man, landing the coup de grace. GG would be told that legal services to Robinson’s would, in future, be provided by Hamish’s company. Instead, we were told that they had considered and rejected proposals to provide such services. Essentially, GG was told that he was free to continue in his present capacity as sole purveyors of legal advice to the new board.

“We decided instead to extend our department that untangles complexities where Scottish and English law conflicts. We’ve just doubled our staff in that area by appointing an able young woman, expert in English jurisprudence who is learning the ropes.” I missed the quiet discussion that followed as my mind tried to catch up: Penny has landed herself a job and Hamish is a mind-reader. He had changed the script in just the way that I wanted, without even a wink or nod passing between us. Then I reflected that he had heard everything I had, so it was natural that he should reach the same conclusions. The difference is that he took decisive action while I was still mulling things over.

Hamish and GG are like two contenders for the Cheltenham Gold Cup, the most prestigious Steeplechase. He is the old champion and Hamish the promising newcomer, but they share outstanding ability. Paddy is like a competent hunter competing in local Point-to-Point races, while I’m a Shetland pony with delusions of grandeur. As we left, GG acknowledged our changed status. Paddy was dismissed as no longer important; I was slightly patronised as a powerful but malleable new player; and Hamish was warmly welcomed as a worthy opponent.

I needed to talk to Hamish, but I wanted Paddy gone before we shared information. He made things easy. “Sheila says I should get you to show me how to dance.” I laughed, explaining that my best friend and I were overheard by his mum planning on the outfits and aftershave that would win the hearts of the office girls at our first party as Robinson’s apprentices. Pat told us that girls would dance with Quasimodo if he had rhythm since all women love to dance. “It has always worked for me,” I grinned. “Your mum was the only one that had me stumped, Hamish. She wanted me to foxtrot, and I had never heard of it.”