A Loving Light
Copyright© 2026 by Marc Nobbs
Chapter 9: Three New Allies
“Does anyone have anything else?” I asked.
Silence and head shakes greeted my words. I think the sheer scale of what we discussed may have shocked some of them. It stretched credibility that as a twenty-one-year-old with a business less than three months old, I’d just signed the contract for the purchase of a three-million-pound office building and an initial five-year lease with the building’s existing tenant—with an expectation it would be extended.
I’d also signed the partnership agreement, making me a minority owner of the tenant law firm, which had a turnover exceeding ten million pounds a year.
That was enough to make me realise how absurd my life had become, but then I’d asked Marie to give the meeting the same sales figures and projections for the Alabama Sweetheart project that she’d given me. And after that, I’d asked Ben to discuss the tour’s financials and the reason for my trip to Atlanta the following weekend.
David was right; I’d come a long way in a short time. It was entirely possible that my seven-figure fortune could grow into an eight-figure fortune by the year’s end.
Think of how much ‘good’ I could do with that.
I still couldn’t believe it was real.
“In that case ... meeting adjourned. Marie, please do whatever you need to do with those minutes.”
“Does that mean we can crack open that Monkey Shoulder?” Ollie said.
“Well, that’s why I bought it,” I said with a smile.
“Excellent. I’ll go and see if I can find Will’s snifters.” He rose from his seat—the first to do so—and left his laptop, notepad, and the contracts I’d signed on the table as he went in search of Will’s whisky glasses.
I closed my laptop and exhaled slowly. Next to me, Marie was still typing on hers. The others around the table put their notepads and pens into their bags or tidily arranged them on the table after taking notes, then, one by one, began to stand, so I followed suit.
“You handled that well,” Bobby said. “And don’t just mean your speech at the start of the meeting. You managed the meeting effectively, too—delegating when necessary and keeping the conversation on track.” He nodded. “You did well. I’ve seen seasoned CEOs lose control of a meeting like that and let it run on for far too long.”
“Yes, well, I’m going out with my friends tonight. Want to get home in time for a shower and a shave.”
“Out on the pull, eh?” he said with a grin.
I shrugged. “Not really.” I paused. “I’m still kind of hung up on Carly. Honestly, I’m looking forward to spending a couple of hours playing pool with the boys in The Mariner more than I am heading to Porky’s.”
“Ah, Porky’s. Loveable shithole if ever there was one. Glad I’m too old for that sort of thing now.”
He patted me on the shoulder, then moved around the table to speak with David, who was already talking with Maddie. As he did, Ben and Jamal approached.
“Did I hear the words ‘Monkey Shoulder’?” Ben asked.
I nodded. “Picked it up on the way over. Figured we could share a glass once everything was signed and sealed.”
“Monkey Shoulder?” Jamal asked.
“It’s a damn good Scotch,” Ben said. “Quite modern, but damn good.”
Jamal nodded. “You’ll understand if I decline the whisky, but I saw there are some soft drinks in a fridge in the atrium, so if I’m allowed one of those, I’d still like to join your celebration.”
I smiled. “Allah forbids it?”
He returned my smile with warmth. “He does, but I have tried it. Peer pressure at university—”
“We’ve all been there,” Ben said. “Talked into doing something we know we shouldn’t at uni.”
“Tell me about it,” I said.
“Yes, well, I didn’t enjoy it then and haven’t tried it since to find out if I enjoy it now.”
“No problem. I’ll ask Marie to—”
“No, no. Don’t do that,” Jamal said. “She’s your Executive Assistant, not a barmaid. I’ll get it.”
“Bring a few cans back,” Ben said. “Just in case anyone else would rather not. You never know.”
As Jamal left the room, Ollie returned with a tray holding eight glasses. He came straight up to Ben and me and put the tray on the table in front of us.
“I couldnae find the snifters. Which is a shame. I think Will must have them locked in the Board Room cabinet upstairs. Makes sense, though. He only ever uses them with the important clients, and they always meet in the Board Room. Never mind. I’ve found some crystal tumblers. Not ideal, but they’ll do. Now, where’s the bottle?”
“In the bag by my seat,” I said.
“Did you buy the Scotch because you knew he’d be here?” Ben asked.
I shook my head. “I knew he’d be here, but I didn’t know he was Scottish. I panicked when I realised. Thought I’d bought the wrong one and he might be insulted.”
“Oh, nay bother,” Ollie said as he joined us again. “I wouldnae even been insulted if you’d brought along a bottle of some cheap supermarket rubbish.” He grinned. “But I would have quietly judged you for it.” He held the bottle out to me. “Do the honours?”
I held up a hand. “Oh, no. The honour’s yours.”
He smiled, then gripped the base of the bottle with one hand. With the other, he pulled the tab, ripping off the foil cap, which he simply tossed onto the table. Then he winked at me, gripped the stopper, twisted it, and pulled.
It came out of the neck with a satisfying ‘pop.’
Then he stepped forward and poured about half an inch of the golden liquid into a glass. Then another. Then a third.
He put the bottle on the table, picked up one glass and handed it to Ben. He picked up another glass and gave it to me before picking up the third glass.
“For the avoidance of doubt, Mr Robertson—” He grinned. “The Mission. I’m all in.”
I nodded.
“Good to hear,” Bobby said from the other side of the table.
“I’ve been swimming against the system my whole life. I grew up in Leith. Do you know it at all?”
I shook my head. “Only from the film.”
“Aye, well, my Leith was nothing like that. Far less singing in the streets, if you know what I mean. Life was tough. A real uphill battle every damn day. I’m in a good place now, and I dunnae just mean a beautiful town by the sea. But I fought for everything I’ve got. I’m not saying I worked harder than anyone else. But once I got to university and my peers were all from more privileged backgrounds, I damn well had to be better than all of them just to get noticed.”
“Been there,” Ben said.
Ollie smiled at him. “I’ll bet.” He then looked at me. “So, yeah, if The Mission is to help people who grew up like I did, then I’m all in.”
I smiled and nodded. “Good to have you on board.”
Ollie held up the glass and said, “To the Mission.”
Ben and I held up our glasses too. “The Mission.”
Ollie raised the glass to his nose, closed his eyes and sniffed.
“Aye, that’s good.” He pulled the glass away from his face and swirled the liquid inside around so that it coated the sides of the glass.
Ben was doing the same, and so I did too.
Ollie then sniffed one more time.
“Oh, aye,” he said.
There was a gentle cough from the other side of the table. I looked over to see David and Bobby looking at us. David was smirking, and Bobby had a raised eyebrow.
“Forgotten someone?” Bobby said.
“Kids, eh?” David said. “Always in a rush.”
“Allow me,” said Maddie, who’d been talking with the pair. With the poise and grace of someone completely at ease in this environment, she glided around the head of the table towards us.
Aside from me, everyone in the room was dressed professionally. David, Bobby, and Jamal were all in traditional dark grey suits. Ben’s suit was light grey and had a modern cut to complement a frame honed by many hours at the gym. Ollie, a thin, wiry man, was in an extremely sharp, black, slim-fit suit.
Marie ... Marie looked fabulous in a dark blue skirt and jacket with a white blouse.
Me? I was in black jeans and the same heavy white cotton shirt that Hannah used to wear for breakfast when she stayed overnight with me in the months leading up to Christmas. Carly had worn it a few times herself in the same situations. I looked “smart,” but not formal.
But Maddie wore a sea-green dress that, while thoroughly professional, nevertheless fit her perfectly and showcased a slim, athletic figure. She wore her honey-blonde hair in a shoulder-length bob cut. Her whole look was that of a young, modern, but utterly professional woman.
She stood opposite Ben and reached between Ollie and me for the bottle of whisky. She sniffed the neck, then held the bottle in both hands to examine it.
She raised a single, perfect eyebrow. “An interesting choice. Not one I’ve tried before, I admit. A bit too ... modern for the circles I inhabit, where the preference is usually for a Highland malt. Something a little more ... delicate. A Glenmorangie, perhaps. The eighteen-year-old.”
Ollie nodded. “You know your whisky.”
She looked at him and smiled. “In my world, Mr Croft, it’s a requirement.”
“Ollie,” he said.
She nodded.
“Your world?” I asked.
She smiled at me and then, as she poured three glasses with the ease and precision of someone who had done it many times before, she said, “Unlike Mr Croft—”
“Ollie,” he said again.
“Unlike Ollie, I come from a privileged background. I recognise that. My father was a surgeon, my mother an architect. I was schooled at Harrogate Ladies College, which was followed by a first-class economics degree from St Andrews and a master’s degree at the London School of Economics.”
She paused after pouring the third glass and looked across the table at Marie.
“No, thank you,” Marie said. “Alcohol and I don’t get along.”
I gave her a questioning look.
“Long story,” she said. “Long and painfully pitiful story.”
I nodded. My instinct was to ask, but this wasn’t the time or the place. If she wanted to tell me, she would. In her own time.
Maddie placed the bottle back on the table and picked up two glasses. She turned to face Ben and Ollie and held the glasses up. “Would one of you gentlemen mind?”
“Give them here,” Ben said, handing his own glass to me. He then took the glasses from Maddie and carried them over to David and Bobby.
“I am fully aware that throughout my education, I was handed opportunities that most can only dream of. Life for me was not tough. It was easy. So imagine my surprise when I discovered that it’s not education, intelligence, or skill that truly matters in the world of High Finance—it’s the Old Boys Network.”
She looked at me.
“Paul, I mean no offence when I say that the reason I’m managing accounts the size of yours and not accounts ten or a hundred times larger, is not my lack of competence, it’s lack of access to The Somerset Club.”
“I thought they voted to admit women a couple of years ago,” David said. “I’m sure I heard that somewhere.”
“Oh, they voted,” Maddie said. “Against the proposal.”
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