nearly two decades worth of business accounts. He took out files containing the balance sheets for the previous five years and returned to the desk to peruse them, quickly and gladly losing himself in the figures. Hours passed, night came down. He worked backward through the years, occasionally pausing to sip his drink or scribble notes. When he was done, he took out more files and worked through them too. Darkness was wearing away to the blue edge of dawn as he returned the last of the files to the cabinet and dropped, yawning, into the swivel chair. He only closed his eyes for a second, and then suddenly he was waking to find his dad frowning down at him. He sat up with a jolt, his neck stiff from the chair, his mind still reeling from the dream. He blinked the dark images away.
“You’ve been here all night,” said his dad, stating the obvious.
“I started working on something and lost track of time. I meant to come home when I finished, but I guess that, well, I must’ve fallen asleep. I usually don’t go to sleep so easily.”
Robert glanced at the almost empty bottle of whisky. “Looks like you had some help.”
“Sorry about that. I needed something to keep me going. You don’t mind, do you?”
“That depends. What were you working on?”
“I went through the balance-sheet accounts to look for any possible savings.”
Robert’s frown gathered intensity. “And what did you find?”
“It’s not rising supply costs or even lack of orders that’s killing us, it’s overheads. You see, overheads accumulate on companies the way barnacles accumulate on the hull of a ship. And, from time to time, they need to be scrapped off, just as barnacles need-”
“Enough of the business-school stuff,” broke in Robert. “Get to the point.”
Julian gathered up his notes, motioning for his dad to look at them. “Here’s the thing, year on year our spending on stationary, telephone bills, insurance, equipment repairs, rent, interest on business loans and so on has risen. I’m certain we could make significant savings in all these areas.”
Robert thumbed for Julian to get out of his seat, sat down and scanned through the notes. His frown gradually relaxed into a smile. “This is really good work, Julian. I’m…well, I’m impressed.”
Julian was surprised to find himself blushing with pleasure at his dad’s praise. There was a genuine enthusiasm about him as he said, “So, I guess now I should start work on a strategy for reducing overheads.”
Robert nodded. “But that can wait until tomorrow. Now you should go home and get some rest.”
Julian was about to tell his dad that he’d rather get to work right away, but at that moment his phone vibrated in his pocket. He snatched it out. ‘1 message received’ read its screen. The text-message was from Jake. ‘meet me at mill asap and bring food’ it said.
“Anything interesting?” asked Robert.
“Just a friend wanting to meet up.” He returned the phone to his pocket. “See you later then.”
As Julian turned to leave, Robert said, “Hey, Jules. Here, catch.” He tossed him his car keys.
“But how will you get home?”
“I’ll sort something out. And next week we’ll sort you out a new car.”
An expression of pleased surprise flitted across Julian’s face. “Seriously?”
Robert smiled. “Seriously.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“I’m the one who should be saying thanks. Truth is, I’ve let things here slide,” Robert admitted. A certain sadness came into his smile. “What with your mother and everything else that’s been going on.” He heaved a breath, breathing away the sadness. “Anyway, from now on things are going to be different. We’re going to make this company great together, aren’t we?”
Julian felt his dad’s weight of hope in him with the same reality that he felt the weight of tiredness in his body. He forced a smile. “Of course we are.”
Chapter 16
As Julian drove home, his phone vibrated again. This time it was Eleanor ringing. His thumb hovered over the answer button, but didn’t press it. “Sorry, Eleanor,” he murmured.
When he arrived at the house, his mum was in the front-garden. From a distance, at a glance, she almost looked her old self — the self from the wedding-photo. It gave him a lift to see her pruning her beloved roses. She waved to him and called, “Where were you last night?”
“Working.”
“Working? What’s so important you had to work on it all night?”
“I’ll tell you later. I’ve got to be somewhere. How are you feeling?”
“Better than I have done in ages. I think the seizure must’ve jiggled some life into me.”
Julian changed into jeans and a t-shirt, and grabbed some cheese, bread and a couple of cokes, before heading into the woods. Despite his tiredness, he walked quickly, almost running. There was no sign of Jake outside or inside the mill. “Jake, where are you?” he called. After a minute or two, the boy emerged from the trees and approached him. He seemed to have grown even leaner and hungrier looking, less human, more like the tattoo on his chest.
“Just making sure you’re alone,” he explained. “You brought the eats?”
Julian handed Jake the food. Almost savagely, he tore at the bread with his teeth, belching as he swilled it down with coke. “So have you found Ginger?” Julian asked eagerly.
“I saw her go into The H-Bomb a couple of hours back.”
Julian frowned. “In that case, why get me to meet you here?”
“I needed to fetch some of my things.”
“But she could’ve left The H-Bomb by now.”
“No she couldn’t.”
“How do you know that?”
“’Cos I do. You got a car?”
“No. Well, yes, but it’s my dad’s. Haven’t you got one?”
“Sure, I can get hold of one easily enough, if you want to risk driving around town in a stolen car.”
“Okay, we’ll use my dad’s, but you’ll have to meet me in the street out front of my house.”
“Why? Don’t you trust me?”
“It’s not that,” said Julian, although it was partly that. “If my mum sees you, she’s going to start asking all sorts of questions.”
Julian explained where he lived, then hurried back there. His mum and Wanda were in the kitchen, making lunch. He skirted around the side of the house, careful not to be seen. As arranged, Jake was waiting outside the gates. “Nice fuckin’ place,” he said as he ducked into the car, displaying a sullen resentment that reminded Julian sharply of Mia.
“Where to?”
“Just drive, rich boy. I’ll tell you as we go.”
“Don’t call me that,” retorted Julian, accelerating harder than he meant to in his irritation.
“Why not? That’s what you are, isn’t it? That’s what I’m gonna be n’all one day. A big, fat rich fuck.”
Julian sighed, not for himself, but for Jake. He couldn’t imagine him ever being any of those things. Jake directed him to the north side of town to a street of dirty-grey houses and flats, many of which had metal-plates welded over their windows. “Stop here,” said Jake. Julian pulled over outside a block of maisonettes fenced off and ready for demolition. Opposite was a three-storey house whose windows were barred and blacked out. The front door, which looked heavy-duty enough to withstand a battering-ram, had a cartoon style H-bomb painted on it. There was a security camera above it. Several big, low-rider motorcycles were parked in the yard. Jake stuck his head out the window and whistled. A woman in a short denim skirt and high-heels emerged from the shadow of the maisonettes, slid through a gap in the fence and tottered over to the car. Julian recognised her as Weasel’s girlfriend.
“Still in there, is she?” asked Jake.
“Well I ain’t seen her come out.” The woman looked admiringly at the car, and said to Julian, “Hello again.”
