Chapter 2: Once More Unto the Breach

The Land Rover is a workhorse. I swapped it for a car designed for comfortable seating at high speeds over long distances. By the time I stopped for fuel at Balloch I was already weary from the stiff suspension and heavy steering of my new vehicle. It will pay its way when I am living off the grid, but I was not looking forward to another three hours even on motorways.

Chrissie’s mega-breakfast was still being processed so I drove on with only a fresh bottle of water. That proved to be my downfall. By the time I reached Penrith, my bladder had reached capacity, so I had to pull into a service station. It was only as I got out of the car that I realised how tired I was, so I bought myself a coffee and sat down to drink it.

The journey north a week earlier had not seemed so tedious, perhaps because I was driven by rage at pretty well everything in my life. I was mad at Helen and Matt, as I had been for months, but I had recently added Wishaw and his niece to my collection of hate figures. On my present journey, I was troubled by remorse. Chrissie had said nothing further about my treatment of my daughter Emily, but what she had said was enough to drive nails into my conscience. I know I should have phoned her before now, but I had no idea what I could say.

My treatment of Matt troubled me almost as much. I left his home last Sunday without giving him a chance to explain. In March, when I discovered that he hadn’t given me the company as he promised, I felt murderous towards him. It was almost two months later when he proved that he had kept his word even if he had chosen a strange way to do it.

Perhaps there is an equally good reason why he was closeted with Wishaw for two hours before I arrived for the meeting. The two old men had been friends since university, and I had only met Wishaw the previous evening. I tried to talk my way out of attending because I realised how little I had to contribute. So, why was I so bothered that they had discussed things without me?

Chrissie and Izzy had raised a doubt in my mind about Helen. There was no possibility of a reconciliation, but it did make sense to discover why she had betrayed me. I was prepared to accept that I had contributed to her desertion even if I wasn’t ready to offer to change anything about myself.

Sipping indifferent coffee in a motorway café, I decided to open my phone and at least sort through my messages. There were four from Beth, Matt’s daughter, accusing me of leaving her without notice. The last message threatened me with legal repercussions, so I replied telling her that her father had accepted my resignation. I eliminated her texts and blocked her number.

Matt had sent about a dozen messages, starting with vituperation for walking away without explanation. The tone of the later texts was more conciliatory but there was still underlying criticism of my hasty behaviour. I composed an apologetic text, including my dispute with Beth. He replied within minutes: ‘When can you get here? Urgent. Come directly to the house.’

I quickly checked who had sent the remaining texts. Helen was responsible for about half of them but there were ten or more from Emily, PJ and Wishaw. There were even three from Jennifer and two from her husband. I got as far as bringing up Emily’s number before I chickened out.

I convinced myself that I should be in a private place when I talked to my daughter. I was intrigued by Matt’s text. After a week, I wondered what could be so urgent. There was only one way to find out, so I dumped my plastic cup and got back on the road. His home is less than ten minutes from the point at which I left the motorway.

It wasn’t until I got into the residential district that I felt hunger pangs but there are no fast food joints amongst the mansions so I pressed on, hoping that Mitzy would find me a snack. It was only as I approached the kitchen door that I remembered that I had nowhere to sleep. I thought of calling a hotel, but Mitzy had opened the door and dragged me inside before I could get out my phone.

“They’re in the study, Bill dear,” she told me. “You look dreadful. Have you eaten?” Not waiting for an answer, she had a casserole out of the freezer and into the microwave while I was wondering who ‘they’ were. I had noticed another car in the drive, but I didn’t recognise it. Mitzy served a craft beer with the Irish stew and then sat with me as I wolved it down.

“You really put the cat amongst the pigeons,” she laughed. “Mr. Wishaw was deflated, saying that you were just another disappointment to him. Matt was angry with you but trying to defend you at the same time. Jennifer was weeping and her mother was having hysterics. It makes my family seem almost normal.”

When I finished the beer, she rose and went to tell her boss that I had arrived. Moments later, the door opened and Matt burst in telling me he had no time to explain. In his study, Wishaw and Jennifer were sitting looking disapproving.

“You made me look like an idiot,” Wishaw began before I had taken a seat. “I’ve had to stall for a week. The whole office is laughing at me.” Jennifer leaned towards him and took his hand.

“We have a plan, Bill, that we need to run by you before Monday at ten.” Matt’s explanation told me nothing. What possible input could I have to Wishaw’s plan?

“You are our honest broker,” Matt continued. “You have only a peripheral interest, but you have already shown that you are a shrewd judge of character. Trey neglected the business, and it has got away from him.”

“I lost my mojo,” Trey said with a sickly smile. “I’ve got five employees suspended pending a decision and I need to get it sorted.”

Jennifer turned to me. “Uncle Trey could rebuild but he has already done more than anyone could expect. I want him to let others bear the burden from now on.” Wishaw must be seventy and he looked defeated so I agreed with his niece that he should walk away.

“I suggested he sell to a competitor,” Matt said. “But Trey doesn’t want to betray his faithful workers, many of whom have been with him for twenty years or more.”

I had a feeling that all three were skating around the answer, so I decided to be blunt. “Why not offer them the chance to buy you out?” I might have been more diplomatic if I hadn’t been tired from my long drive and my emotional turmoil.

The three looked at each other, not surprised at my suggestion but waiting for Trey to speak. “It’s PJ isn’t it,” I blurted out having had an epiphany. “She is your right hand and would be the natural leader in a staff buy-out, but she’s betrayed her trust.”

Wishaw looked relieved. “She helped to write the contract of employment she has smashed,” he vehemently declared. “I really don’t want her to benefit.”

“Sack her for gross misconduct on Monday and offer a buy out to the rest on Tuesday.” I was too weary to be more tactful.

“Let’s do it Unk!” Jennifer was enthusiastic.

“Any idea how much its worth,” was Matt’s contribution.

“I’ve been offered 12 million, but I would accept ten from the staff. My only worry is that PJ will steal a lot of our clients.”

“You must know all her clients, Trey.” I was on a roll. “Send a letter to each of them detailing the reason for her sacking. If they back someone so disloyal they deserve all the problems that will come their way.” It turned out that he was on first name terms with most of the clients. He finally agreed on a letter rather than a personal phone call which might have led to supplementary questions.

The atmosphere became positively festive until I threw in a damp squib. I refused to join them in the Wishaw mansion for a celebratory dinner. They finally accepted that I was too exhausted to enjoy the evening. When I mentioned that I had to find a place to spend the night. I was offered a spare room in both Matt’s and Trey’s mansions. I accepted Matt’s hospitality.

“Matt’s got a bit of a thing going with Mr. Wishaw’s sister,” Mitzy told me as we waved then off.

“Where does that leave you, girl,” I blurted out. She has been sharing Matt’s bed since his wife left, though no one is supposed to know. She is married and I always assumed that they did not make things legal because of her reluctance.

“We’re fuck buddies,” she laughed. “My Sam hasn’t shared my bed since my youngest was born and she’s twenty-five. Matt lost faith in women after that bitch left him to join her cult, but he still had needs. Sam and I love each other, just not in that way anymore. It suited both of us to let me scratch an itch. Matt and I don’t love each other but we’re totally compatible in bed.” Too much information, Mitzy.

“From what Ms. Jennifer tells me, her mum never recovered from her divorce. She had no time for men in any shape or form, except her brother Mr. Wishaw, of course. Last Sunday after the big meeting that you walked away from, there was a lot of frank discussion, even if the language was guarded because the kids were there. Faith, that’s her name, and Matt were often on the same side in the arguments, and you could see there was a little spark.”

“Where does that leave you?” I repeated.

She gave a great guffaw. “Doing well so far. He’s had me naked every day since and can’t keep his hands off me in between times. His libido is right up there with eighteen-year-olds. I’m hoping it will last until he finally gets into Faith’s knickers.” We sat in companionable silence for some time. “Now, what have you been up to since you ran away last week,” she smiled.

I reported the progress on my cottage and about leasing the workshop. She showed nothing but polite interest until I told her about my reunions with Christine and Isobel. That prompted a barrage of questions about my relationships with the two women. She insisted on going back to our holidays together as toddlers. “To tell you the truth, Mitzy, I think I would have married Chrissie if she hadn’t been my first cousin. Izzy was aways a brat although she’s a beauty now.”

“I wouldn’t give a thought to being cousins,” Mitzy laughed. “Sam and me are within the forbidden bounds but we have four kids, seven grandkids and one great granddaughter. Not one has a blemish.” When I told her that Isobel was married, she replied, ‘So is Helen’ and when I said I hadn’t thought of Chrissie that way for years she said: ‘More fool, you.’

She noticed that I was wilting and insisted on carrying my bag up to the room I always use when I stay with Matt. “You’re a virile man, Bill. You’re going to need a willing woman before long.” She turned down the bed and checked that there were towels in the bathroom. “Maybe if Matt gets lucky with Faith, you and me can help each other.” With that she left, closing the door behind her.

I slept well until Matt brought me a cup of tea at eight on Monday morning. “Trey wants us in his office by nine-thirty to review the evidence. Cindy and Helen are scheduled for fifteen minutes each. The proposal is for both of them to be reprimanded but kept on. John will have half an hour to be told why he is being sacked with immediate effect and no reference. PJ, as you all call her, has an hour; she will also be fired. After lunch in the boardroom, all the remaining partners will be called in to be offered a share in the company. The accountants will take over then until a decision is reached by the end of February. Trey never did hesitate once he got the bit between his teeth.”

Matt then went on to ask about my plans for the workshop I had leased, which kept us occupied until he pulled into the hotel opposite Trey’s office. He led me into the dining room where Jennifer was sitting with an older woman, unmistakably her mother. “I’ll leave you with Faith and Jenny,” Matt said after bending to kiss the cheek of the older woman. “Trey and I are meeting the partners for breakfast.” With that he was gone, leaving me without a clue about what was expected of me or why I was there.

“Let me introduce you,” Jennifer began. “No need to introduce your big sister,” I smiled as I sat down with them. “He doesn’t look much, but I’ll grant you he’s smooth,” Jennifer’s mum told her. Then they dissected my character, grinning and laughing while I sat getting more and more irate. I ordered croissants and coffee from the waitress who came over while the ribbing continued.

It was mum who noticed, eventually, that I was not joining in the hilarity. “I think we’ve offended his fragile male ego,” she told her daughter.

That made me smile. I had been pushed into helping the Wishaw clan after the party. I had no interest in their affairs, nor have they spelled out what exactly it is they want from me. “How perceptive of you,” I said, making no effort to conceal the sarcasm.

She scowled as she glared at me. I recalled what Mitzy had said about the spark between Faith and Matt. I could see the physical attraction, since she is a handsome woman, probably in her late sixties. There was no disguising, however, her attitude to the masculine half of humanity. Jennifer was looking at the table so I could not read her expression.

The waitress returned with a carafe of coffee, only to be imperiously waved away when she began to press the plunger. Mum finished the job and then filled her cup and Jennifer’s: my cup was left upside down in its saucer. The smell of warm croissants overcame my intention to get up and leave, so I spread butter and jam, eating quietly but with relish – they tasted as good as they smelled.

I smiled at mum, which turned out to be the final error. “Come Jennifer, let’s leave this person to his wimps’ breakfast.” Then she focused her glare on me: “Suite A as soon as you’re finished.” She rose and stomped off with Jennifer trailing behind giving me apologetic looks over her shoulder. I was more baffled than ever, but the croissants were really good, so I sat until I cleared the basket. The waitress brought me a fresh carafe. “I’m sorry the lady was rude,” I smiled at her.

“Ms. Wishaw is usually lovely, but she doesn’t like men. Most of the staff are women and she’s a terrific boss. It’s poor Jamal I feel sorry for. He’s shaking in his shoes.” I sat for a long time after she left considering the series of bombs she had just dropped.

It seems that Jennifer’s mum has reverted to her maiden name, which ties in with Mitzy’s view that the divorce was acrimonious. It was news to me that she was the hotel boss, though it did make sense. The most interesting statement was about Jamal. Matt said that five employees were suspended following the party. I wonder if Jamal was one of them.

I urgently needed to know more, so I called over the waitress to ask for the bill. She told me that my breakfast had been paid for. “Is Jamal in his room?” I asked. She was startled and looked as if she wanted to run away. “I fear that I may be the one that’s caused the trouble for Jamal. I just want to talk to him before he sees the harpies.”

She sat down opposite me. “Jamal’s really nice. I know he looks a bit of an ogre but he’s gentle and always ready to help anyone who needs it. I don’t know what happened at that party, but he’s been suspended without pay for a week and I just don’t think he deserved it.” She was weeping quietly before she finished.

I promised I would see what I could do before I took the elevator to the ninth floor, one below the suites. I remembered that the lift stopped right outside suite A, but the stairs were close to Jamal’s little room.

“What am I going to do, Bill,” he asked when he opened the door to my knock.

Tell me everything that happened after I left on Sunday morning.”

“It was late Sunday evening when Ms. Wishaw called me into suite A and tore me a new asshole. I was evil and corrupt and didn’t deserve the chance that her brother had given me. He was with her, and it was him who told her to calm down. Then he said I was suspended until further notice. It was Miss Jenny that called yesterday to tell me to be here at ten today. What are they going to do to me, Bill?”

It was half past nine, so we still had time to consider things before his trial. “I did take money for letting folks have keys to the suites, but it was Mr. Baxter that pushed me into it. He said it was ok, and he would clear it with the boss. When he brought in a dealer, I reported it to the drug squad – I don’t want any trouble after Mr. Wishaw gave me this chance.”

“Are you saying that John Baxter wanted to bring drugs into the hotel?” He nodded. “I was a runner for them and got done as a juvenile. Mr. Wishaw was a friend of the magistrate, and he gave me this job and a place to live. I’d never betray his trust by messing with drugs again.”

“Come with me, my friend, and let me do all the talking at first. We’ll show the ladies who really is evil and corrupt!” Jamal grinned. He trailed behind me as I strode to the door of suite A, ready to do battle.

It was Jennifer who answered the door. “Mum’s uptight. Go easy with her,” she whispered as she beckoned us in. Mum was sitting in the middle of the two-seat couch leaving no room for Jennifer who went behind it where she stood looking anxious.

“At last.” Mum glared at me before she spotted Jamal behind my shoulder. “Out, black boy. We’ll call when we need you. Don’t go away.”

Jamal would have gone if I hadn’t taken his arm and drawn him beside me. “That’s enough!” I spoke a little louder than I intended but it got the attention of the two women. I thought Jennifer was going to interfere, but she remained silent, putting her hands on her mum’s shoulders.

“Jamal was told by your son in law that you had given him permission to rent out the suites. He is and always has been a loyal employee, doing far more than his duty demands. He is liked and respected by the hotel staff for his helpfulness and his cheerful disposition. You should be begging him to stay – and offering him a raise.”

Ms. Wishaw’s expression kept changing as I spoke. There was anger and hurt but it became sad before I finished. “The women who work here think you’re a wonderful boss.” I had only spoken to the waitress, Rose, but I thought a little exaggeration was justified. “You are polite bur firm and always ready to listen to them. All we ask is that you treat Jamal the same way.”

She visibly relaxed, putting her own hands on top of her daughter’s. Her eyes were filled with tears that began to roll down her plump cheeks. It was Jennifer who spoke: “Your job is safe, Jamal, and thank you for your efforts. I’ll have to talk to others about a pay rise, but I promise to speak to you before this time tomorrow.”

That seemed like a good point to end the discussion, so I grabbed Jamal and hauled him, grinning like an idiot, to the door. Jennifer caught up with us before we left. She took Jamal’s other arm and kissed his cheek. “We need to talk, Bill,” she murmured to me, but without the kiss.

He would have headed back to his little room, but I called the elevator and dragged him into the car. We got out in the lobby where the duty manageress was standing near reception. She looked at us expectantly, so I told her that Jamal was staying. She grinned, stepping forward to usher us into the dining room, empty except for half a dozen waitresses sitting around a table.

“Jamal’s keeping his job,” the manager announced. There was a rush of excited females hugging and kissing Jamal, adding me to the celebration with enthusiasm. I was soon discarded while the hero of the hour was dragged to the table to give a blow-by-blow account of his encounter with the owner. I slipped away and had reception call an uber for me.

When I got in, the driver offered me a tissue and pulled down the vanity mirror. “Best remove your warpaint, mate,” he grinned. My face was covered in about a dozen different shades of lipstick. It was an effective icebreaker, so the driver and I chatted amicably throughout the journey to Matt’s house.