Читать книгу Candlesight - Michael Liddy - Страница 3

Amelia sat back in the chair, an aggressive but resigned expression on her face. In her 41 years she’d only experienced this sort of defeat once or twice, and it was completely debilitating. Brushing her auburn hair back behind her ears, a few errant curly locks escaping her fingers, she flicked her dark brown eyes across each person at the table. Finally she regarded the man at the opposite end of the board room table with a look of profound disdain; this was the person they’d entrusted to guide the company five years ago, and now he was stumbling over an explanation which she knew was fabrication. Everything he’d attempted was a failure.

Interrupting the inane monologue, Amelia leaned forward in her chair and fixed him with a vicious expression. “James, I think that what you’re trying to say is that your strategy to diversify and establish a lower mass market tier, rather than provided efficiencies and economies over the whole, has in fact ended up being an absolute mess.” She spread her hands slowly at his dumb, outraged expression. “I know that’s not exactly what you’re saying, but in reality does that sum up the drivel you’re spewing out?” The hum of conversation abruptly ceased and all was deathly silent.

The insulting words served to rile his ego. “Amelia, I don’t think that’s either fair or accurate, and you’re not in possession of all the facts.”

She stood now, the anger overflowing. This man’s arrogant, pompous naivety had taken them to the brink of bankruptcy, and if Richard, the CEO, hadn’t uncovered the true depth of the disaster, there wouldn’t be anything left. Turning her back on him, she reached down and poured a glass of water. “Well, James, if I relied on your reports, then yes, I wouldn’t be in possession of all the facts, but thankfully we have other sources. Now what’s accurate is that you have no business being a Managing Director.”

James looked as though he’d been slapped. As he made ready to retort he glanced across the other faces of the crowded board table and realised he had no support. Astute enough to realise he was beaten, he attempted to salvage the situation to the best of his ability. “Now Amelia, this was a complex undertaking and we all agreed there were risks.”

“Yes, it was a complex undertaking, one that you were leading.” She placed the glass on the credenza and crossed her arms. “And what it needed was more than having meetings with your pet managers in that rather nice office of yours, or flitting overseas on five-star junkets.” At his icy stare she continued. “The point you need to keep in mind here, James, is that you have a fiduciary responsibility to this company and the board.” Amelia tightened her lips. “That means you needed to tell us about this mess before Richard got calls from the bank asking about security for the five million overdraft.”

Very calmly, but with a veiled menace in his voice, Richard spoke from the far end of the board table. The ten occupants of the room snapped their attention towards him. “The only reason I got that call was because a junior had questions about the application and he couldn’t get hold of you.” He spread his hands. “Otherwise we would never have known.” His expression became vicious. “I’m not supposed to be back in the country yet, you timed this for when you had power of attorney.”

The anxiousness in James’s eyes turned to panic. “It was a temporary measure only. Richard, you need to understand the situation.”

Richard looked to his right, his expression imperious. “Adam?”

From next to Richard the man he’d prompted spoke in cold, authoritative voice. “No, none of this has been temporary. The three new lines are all making losses and our market share of existing brands are all half what they were five years ago.” He exhaled deeply. “It’s taking longer to bring ranges on stream, and the consistency and quality are disturbing. The department stores and chains are cutting back inventory and not giving us the profile they were. In six months tops that additional five million will be gone, and this company ceases to exist. Inevitable.”

The room was silent, though awash with emotions. James finally stood, his bearing belligerent. “It’s clear to me that the board doesn’t support my leadership and initiatives. I think it’s prudent that I tender my resignation.”

Very slowly, Amelia retook her seat. Leaning back in the chair, she laid her hands gently on the arms of the chair, barely containing her rage. “Probably five months earlier than you’d planned, but that’s acceptable to us. We’ll have severance terms drawn up for you.”

Bristling at the insinuation, James leaned forward on the table. “There’s no need, my contract covers those terms very adequately.”

“We won’t be responding to those clauses in your agreement.” Richard’s voice remained calm.

James’s tone was frosty. “You don’t have any choice, the severance terms are a blanket application.”

Amelia spoke again, her composure unflustered. “That’s right, James, we don’t have a choice. But you certainly do.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong here, none of my decisions were negligent, and it’s your lack of vision and support that have damaged this company.”

Richard leaned forward, his voice deliberately calm. “Will you all please leave the room.”

All knew to whom that instruction applied. The directors, Amelia and Adam, remained seated, while all the othersstood and quietly, quickly, left the room. When the last pulled the huge timber double doors shut behind him, there was an implacable silence.

Amelia leaned forward across the table. “James, we need the 1.8 million of your severance package to try and arrest the slide this company is in.” Her expression became earnest. “It’s vital.”

Aloof and haughty in response, his voice was icy. “It isn’t my problem, and I have no intention of letting you exploit me because of your lack of resolve.”

Richard turned in his seat, agitation clearly rising. “Be careful, James, be very careful.”

Amelia continued, “You’re going to depart with a two hundred thousand dollar package. You’ll sign a release we’ve had drafted and walk out of here with a bank cheque for the money today.”

James folded his arms. “And why on earth would I do something ridiculous like that?”

“Because if you don’t, we’re going to investigate the sites you’ve been repeatedly accessing on your computer.”

“What are you talking about?” His voice was indignant, but all saw the blood drain from his face.

Amelia gave him a tired expression. “You once had the best interests of this company at heart, and you did excellent work for us in your early years. For whatever reason, since taking the MD role you’ve been going through the motions on profoundly important decisions and you’ve committed us to a reckless course with little diligence.” She could see his composure becoming arrogant again. “We have documented dumps of all the IT caches for your computers for the last month, and you know the authorities might be interested in some of it.”

He spluttered an indignant reply. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. This is slander. Anyone can access my computer, I never lock my office.”

“Cross referenced to when you enter the building via your security pass and when you log on.” She leaned forward. “And remember, James, you use the office connection and server to log on from home.”

Clearly stunned now, James retreated to the only avenue he could think of. “This is ridiculous, and you have no right to access any of my personal records.”

“Even you signed the employment induction which tells you we prohibit questionable use and may examine these records.” She kneaded her forehead and then looked around the room at the other faces, seeing only cold resolve. Her eyes fell on James again. “This is not your place anymore, and it hasn’t been for some time. You’re in your mid-forties and if we can turn this around your value as a director won’t be harmed. You’ll settle somewhere else.” Amelia paused to let that sink in. “If you make us contest this, you might end up with some of the money, but it won’t be all, and your managerial reputation is going to be damaged.” She placed a DVD on the desk. “As for this, I don’t know what’s on here, and I don’t want to. I can only guess from one or two of the obvious domains.” She let the statement trail as his expression became defeated. Reaching down she retrieved another piece of paper and pushed it across the table to him. “Sign. The offer is valid for this moment only.”

One last spiteful quip issued from his tight lips. “You’ve always exploited me, and now, at the last, it’s just for what I’m owed.”

Breathing deeply Amelia felt tired all over. “No James, we gave you this company to develop and shape, we trusted you. We did respect your contribution.” Her eyes became intent for a moment. “This is not about exploiting you, we desperately need that money to try and get us through the next six months, we can’t even afford the 200k. None of us will be drawing salaries and we’ll all be refinancing our houses.”

Richard chose this point to interject. “Of course, forget the police, if you like we can get Arthur involved. I’m sure he’ll take a dim view of what you’ve been accessing, and his solutions can be a little, shall we say, overbearing.”

His expression visibly wilted at Richard’s word and dropping his eyes to the table James reached into his pocket and withdrew a gold fountain pen. Glancing briefly over the terms, he scribbled his signature at the bottom. Standing stiffly, he met only Amelia’s eyes as she stood and handed him the disk, a white envelope underneath.

She spoke in a quiet voice. “It’s the only copy. I deleted the cache myself from the server, nobody has examined the files, and only I saw part of the lists.”

He took the offered items and straightening his jacket he walked from the room, his eyes resolutely downcast. The three remaining sat silently looking at each other in turn. That immediate hurdle negotiated, now they had more formidable problems to consider.

Richard cleared his throat. “You handled that well.”

Amelia stared at the door James had just departed through, feeling extraordinarily tired. “It’s done. I don’t want to waste time on what happened, we could spend years.” She drew her eyes to them. “We need to figure out what we’re going to do now.”

A true picture of their situation started to resolve on the fourth day as the large white board propped on the end of the table started to evolve from a mass of notes and coalesce into an annotated diagram. There was a sense of resolve in the room as all their questions and thought processes were brought into a strategy they were all committed to.

Noticing an errant bubble with a series of text scribbles adjacent, Amelia walked up to the board and stared at the writing. “Richard, is this yours?”

Looking up from the spreadsheet on his laptop, Richard frowned as he looked over his glasses. “Yes, that’s the Coremade line.”

“What’s that part of? I don’t remember seeing it anywhere?”

He leaned back in the chair and levelled a flat expression at her. “It’s something Arthur and I are responsible for.”

Frustration welling, she responded abruptly. “I don’t know anything about it, will you please tell me?”

Unfazed by her anger, he expanded. “When we quit manufacturing here in 1991, we kept one boutique line out of the original factory in Kensington. They made a good business case, and on the assurance it always turned a profit we agreed to keep it on.” He smiled. “They always have.

The expression on Amelia’s face was perplexed. “Why have I never heard of it, and why did it never go through the design house?”

Richard lifted his boot up onto the table and lifted his trousers revealing a simply designed but elegant black boot. “Because we like them, they’re part of Havesheld and I didn’t want those design princesses who just copy everything they see in magazines and catwalks wrecking them. As to why you haven’t heard of them, it’s word of mouth and people who already have them. There’s no marketing or advertising.”

Her frustration turning to intrigue, Amelia extended her hand. “Let me see.”

Richard eased the boot gently off his foot and slid it across the board table towards her. Staring at it for a moment she had to acknowledge that it was obviously well constructed. She lifted the boot to regard it more closely.

It was a traditionally shaped dress shoe with a thin, three-layer sole lifting to a flat heel. The upper was a simple, but mildly curious arrangement; a sweeping tapered square piece toe, moulded out of a single piece of leather, with a discreet black retaining ring that ran to the edge of the sole. Just next to the heel cup there was a long narrow gore running to the top of the cuff, no more than three centimetres wide. The inner had a full gauze like sock inner that was more than a fabric in thickness, it was neatly tucked under the cuff at the top of the boot which folded over. The shoe itself was very discreet and it was only on close inspection that its very elegant design became apparent.

Turning the shoe over in her hand, Amelia noticed the leaved ring at the edge, and looping over, the sole to the upper. In the middle of the outsole there was an inset material that looked like leather. Flexing the shoe she watched the snakeskin-like leaves expand and contract, and she smiled at the ingenious design. Looking along the side of the heel she noticed an “L” shaped line about half way along. “What’s this?”

Smiling as he responded, Richard spoke in a warm voice. “With a coin you turn both a quarter to the right and the heel slides off. So you can change the heels and soles without touching the upper.”

Amelia didn’t take her attention from the shoe as he spoke. “I’ve never noticed you wearing these before, and I would have noticed.”

He smiled again. “I’ve always thought of them as an occasion shoe; this is certainly an occasion.”

She looked up. “And what occasion is that?”

His stare was purposeful. “In whatever drastic cost-cutting we do, this little division is not getting shut down or sold.”

Ignoring that statement for a moment she continued her examination. “What do these things sell for?”

“Not exactly sure what’s on the tag right now, but it would be somewhere around $1,400 to $1,600 a pair.”

Adam almost choked. “You must be joking.”

Richard smiled, obviously enjoying that they didn’t know anything about the range. “They come in a very nice timber presentation case with built-in lasts, you get special brushes and waxes. When you get a set it’s a big moment.”

Amelia looked up as the price was quoted and like Adam she was taken aback. “People have been paying this sort of money for these?”

“I’m telling you, there’s a very loyal, very select market for these shoes. On the inside of the box lid there’s a Coremade logo and underneath it a phone number. The phone goes to the factory at Kensington.” He fixed them both with steady stares. “It covers costs and I want it left alone.”

Folding his arms, Adam sat back in his chair. “I’ve got a couple of problems with all this. How come we don’t know about this little division, how has it been accounted for all these years, but most importantly, why are you so bent on keeping it?”

His expression very calm, Richard responded easily. “Yes, I knew about it, but it’s been going on a lot longer than you think. Every Chairman right back to Waldman has had some version of it. I think the first one was in the 1900s. Admittedly the product took a big right hand turn in ’92, and I think it’s now a great piece of industrial design, but it, like every version before, was a discreet, highly finished piece worn by select group and never publicised.” He pointed. “Come on, unless you looked at it closely, all you’d ever think is that it was a nice, simple shoe.”

Adam pressed him. “Accounted for?”

“Look closely, there’s no fraud here. You will, however, notice that our 'Samples and Prototype' budget is a little high, and our 'Warehouse Seconds' income is very healthy. Staff, well, that’s even easier.”

Unconvinced, Adam shook his head. “I still don’t understand why you’d go to all the trouble so you can have a ridiculous indulgence.”

Bristling now, Richard gave Adam a withering look. “Well my friend, that’s why you’re the accountant and I’m the CEO.”

“Explain it to me then.” Adam’s frustration was rising.

“No I’m not going to, and I don’t need to. Arthur wants it kept intact, it gets kept intact. End of discussion.”

Adam mumbled under his breath. “Now the real reason comes out.”

Richard spread his hands. “There’s no issue here, we’ve just always played it down. Part of the branding and allure is that it’s unknown. Put it in the Amex Platinum magazine and we’d get better sales but the mystique is gone. At the moment, if someone spots them and asks, it’s all very enigmatic. It makes money, its part of our heritage. It also means that we can keep Kensington as a warehouse and not lose money. It’s convenient, and a big bit of real estate that might be worth something one day. So leave Coremade alone.”

“And that’s why you didn’t want it moved offshore when everything else did?” She was running her hands across the highly finished leather.

“Actually I didn’t have an issue with that as long as we found a boutique factory we could control. It was one of the local guys, Ted Warwick, who came up with the plan to keep it here, and Arthur, before he passed the CEO role to me, was happy to support it when I brought it to him.” He smiled. “Ted’s brilliant, likes himself, but he’s the one who guided it through the transition and gave the shoe a lot of those features that have kept it exclusive and contemporary.”

The conversation trailed off at that point and eventually they returned to the direction they were now to embark upon. It was another several days before that process was completed. Throughout that tumultuous period, where profoundly confronting decisions were being enacted, Amelia couldn’t quite dispel the enigma of the Coremade line from her mind. There was something about it, and the only example of its product that she’d seen, that convinced her there was ability in that small division that could help them. If she could find a way to inject but a small portion of that precision and design flair across the restricted brands and lines they’d elected to continue with, then there might be some ability to make this strategy work.

As it stood, she had little confidence in the existing design team: three people locked away in an enclave in their Richmond head office. Amelia didn’t consider herself a designer and didn’t covet that mantle for herself. She could appreciate good design, though, and knew that their ideas were derivative at best. This emergency would not be serviced by diluted measures. The resurgence needed to be confident yet discreet; unorthodox, experimental products would not ensure their continuity, rather it would appear desperate and confusing to the market. The more she thought about it, the more she was sure there was something in Coremade that could help them.

Late on the second Friday evening since James’s departure, the bank and their accountants departed after having been advised of the restructure and agreeing a still significant overdraft. Amelia cornered Richard. She’d never been particularly close to him, and while he was personable enough, the long established anointment of him as the successor to Arthur Arnold over all the possible candidates had encumbered him with an aloof arrogance and matching ego.

So she chose her words carefully. “Richard, we’re going to need to stabilise these remaining product lines with some good ranges, and I think we need to get word out far earlier than we usually would.”

“Well yes, that’s sort of obvious.” He regarded her levelly. “Have you got some idea in particular?”

Amelia ignored the barb. “James’s people, the three of them in head office, have to go.” She corrected herself. “Or maybe they don’t have to go, but they can’t be leading. We need someone new.”

He was quiet for a moment and then aware she was exploring the idea as she spoke he prompted her in mid thought. “And?”

“This Coremade brand. I like what it is, and you say someone in Kensington had something to do with it?”

Richard nodded. “That’s right; Ted. What do you want to do with him?”

“I’m no designer, but I know what talent is. If you don’t have any issue, I’d like to have a word with him.”

Considering this for a moment, Richard looked over at Adam talking to the directors and then returned his attention to Amelia, giving her some serious consideration. She was impeccably dressed in a pair of tan, finely weaved woollen trousers, a linen, open-necked white shirt and mohair cardigan. The simple platinum bangle on her right hand wrist matched the vertical pendant necklace and old stainless steel Oris watch. She was a little too thin for his liking, as if a stiff breeze would blow her off balance, but her penetrating eyes and fiery tresses hinted at her true strength.

The breakdown of her marriage had been extremely difficult for her, he knew that. She’d married a charismatic but weak man, who as the years progressed, descended steadily into a miasma of gambling, infidelity and alcoholism. Striving with him for years, at the expense of her own desire for a family, she’d finally separated when the persistent rumours of his affair with his assistant had proven to be true. Cut off from the considerable resources of the family, he’d deteriorated quickly, and they’d heard recently that he’d sold the house he received as part of the settlement to cover mounting debts.

Amelia had emerged after several months of depression, a stronger, hardened and more resolved person. Much of her innocence and youthful enthusiasm was gone, though in truth it had been long absent after years of neglect. Now she had her wider family and the business; they were her focus, and she was dedicated and resolved to pursuing their success. Richard knew he could count on her, she would not waver.

“I don't have a problem with that. But why not look outward?”

She shook her head, the routine culprit locks drifting across her cheeks. “With what’s been going on it’s going to send a message that we’re in disarray and need to start from scratch.”

“I think losing four brands and our MD is going to tell the market that.”

Richard stretched his arms and yawned loudly. “Ok Amelia, talk to Ted, but you’re not poaching him. If you want his input you get it done down there.”

This was more than Amelia expected and she didn’t bristle at his overbearing tones; she’d long ago acknowledged his pre-eminence. It was only recently that she’d emerged back into the business, after the routine year of travelling and retail expenditure that those with money and time typically employ to deal with bitter personal situations. Richard had let her slot back into a development role, and for that she was prepared to deal with his bombastic demeanour.

Both she and Adam left the meeting. Out in the lobby, he turned his concerned features towards her. “Are we having ourselves on?”

Amelia's response was open and immediate. “Another six months and we would have been. We may have just caught it in time.”

“You really think we can put it back together?” Adam’s tone was sceptical.

She nodded. “As long as we can get ourselves out of the Brazil, and worst case, we’re almost at the end of the contracts there. We’re not working much as a stock service anymore, there aren’t warehouses and wharves full of that junk.” She regarded him dispassionately. “You and Richard can do this.”

Looking up at the steadily decreasing floor indicator, his response was dismissive. “It’s not that easy, Amelia. This isn’t about pulling a few levers.”

“That’s right, and it’s going to come down to what we do next. We have to come up with a product line that sets us right quickly, and it can’t afford to have any quality or logistical hiccups.” She edged past him as the doors silently parted. “If it does, we’re history.”

He kept pace with her as they walked through the dimly lit car park. “That’s you.” Adam reached for her shoulder and stopped. “We’ve all been taking it easy for the past few years, but it’s up to us now. Can you do this?”

Her expression became thoughtful. “I don’t know. All that I can tell you is that I don’t feel beaten.” At his dubious expression she continued quickly, “You know that feeling you get when what’s before you is vital and seems impossible, that emotionally sick feeling you get?”

“Of course.”

Amelia gave him a smile. “I don’t feel it, and I haven’t from the moment we found out what James was up to, even though I knew we were going to be the ones to fix it.”

Unlocking his car, Adam stared over the roof at her as he threw his jacket and briefcase onto the back seat. “Of course I’m glad you have some confidence, but I’m also hoping you have the ability.”

Keeping her expression open, she gave no sense of disquiet as she responded. “You just make sure all those buyers keep talking to us and those supply contracts don’t kill us.”

Adam paused at the driver’s door. “We may have caught this just in time, but only one piece of this frail little puzzle has to not fit and things could get dire.”

Without further comment he pursed his lips and then dropped into the depths of the large black sedan. Amelia stood quietly next to her car as he pulled away, the crisp smell of exhaust fumes and reverberating engine noises bouncing around her. When all was silent again she absently reached into her bag and pressed the button on the remote. As if that motion of stepping into her car was symbolic of having made a decision, she settled on a course of action for her part in this troubled venture.