Читать книгу Candlesight - Michael Liddy - Страница 5

Amelia leaned back and stared at Ted intently as he peered at the samples laid out on his coffee table. It had been an excruciating process to get him to sit down and engage with anything she’d suggested. Over a four month period she’d done her best to contain her temper as he continually rescheduled reviews and cut meetings short. On the verge of looking elsewhere, she conceded there were actually very few people who innately understood the whole gamut of issues relating to designing, producing and marketing a successful product. He may not have talent in all of these, but Coremade had undergone a transformation that catered to most.

Aware now that he was pushing his luck and that Amelia wouldn’t simply disappear, Ted had now reverted to a pattern of dismissing the material in front of him. The criticisms were broad and sweeping making it extremely difficult for her to deduce a useful direction.

Taking a deep breath she interrupted him mid tirade. “Ted, we’re not aiming for Coremade here, this is a mid range line. We just can’t afford to have a 360 degree welt, it has to be glued.”

He sat back and folded his arms. “Well that’s not the way anything decent gets done.”

She leaned forward over the table and breathed deeply. “Forget the construction for a moment, let’s just talk about the design.” Her real intent here was to come up with a line that wasn’t overtly fashion or trend based. For all Coremade’s handmade exclusivity it wasn’t a derivative look. This man had come up with its distinctive qualities and all Amelia wanted was a taste of that through what she was trying to come up with. The same question kept forming in her mind; where was this obstinacy coming from, why couldn’t he see that she wasn’t trying to take anything from him or unwind his little empire?

Again the dismissive rhetoric flowed. “Start with something broken it will always be broken.”

Tension rose up within her again. “Not everybody can afford to walk around in handmade shoes.”

“The rest of the world can wear clogs for all I care, the only thing I have anything to do is done right or not at all.” He stood and lurched towards his desk. “You’re wasting your time coming here.”

Almost at the point of exploding, Amelia couldn’t quite contain the icy retort. “I think maybe it might be worth my while talking to some of the other employees here, perhaps they had more to do with the success here than I give them credit.”

It was long seconds before he turned around and when he did, his face was mottled with a rage far beyond the snide insinuation of her words. With self righteous indignation he pointed at her while he spat the words out. “You will not undo what I’ve created here, and if you try you’ll answer to Richard.”

Taken aback by the venom in his response, not so much by the threats, Amelia replied in a cold tone. “I have no concerns about those conversations, Ted. None at all. I’m going to suggest one last time that you lose all this attitude and talk to me about what’s in front of you.”

The indignation remained cast to his features as he responded between clenched teeth. “You’ve taken up too much of my time already and I won’t let my work here suffer as a result.” He folded his arms. “I have no more time for this today.”

Exasperated, Amelia stood and began to roughly throw the samples and sheets of material back into her satchel. “Very well, as you wish.” With enormous difficultly she quashed her anger and forced a calm tone. “Ted, I’m going to leave you alone for a few days to think about all this, then we’re going to have one more try. After that, if it doesn’t work out, well, I don’t have any more time for you.” She regarded his stony features with a level gaze, and without further comment walked out of the office.

As she walked towards large doors at the rear of the factory, a suspicion began to form in her mind and she glanced around the factory at all the workers. Though her statement to Ted had been flippant, his response had caused some level of disquiet within, and now she began to wonder if there wasn’t some truth to it. What if this man was egotistical bluster and nothing else? Once establishing this watermark of changes to Coremade, he hadn’t gone on to do anything else. Surely someone with that amount of ability would need a constant outlet for such a talent and wouldn’t be able to just sit still for the next ten years as he had, just making sure everything ticked over.

Surreptitiously she glanced quickly from face to face, knowing that most of them would be marking her departure and also that Ted would have his baleful eyes on her retreating form. Confusion welled as none of them seemed to present the spark of creativity she expected. She knew designers and they all presented almost identically; passionate, driven, self aware and with a certain amount of obstinate arrogance. None of these around her seemed to be those sort of people.

Frowning, she left the factory and, passing through the great warehouse, she went through the small steel door to her car parked in the large rear loading dock. Turning the ignition key she wondered briefly if Richard or even Arthur had had something to do with this. Quickly she dismissed that idea, knowing that though he was a strong leader, his abilities didn’t run to creativity. He was a person who had to be told what was good taste and why, and luckily for him his wife had a refined eye for the finer things in life.

Struggling with the impasse, Amelia acknowledged why she was spending so much time with an intractable personality like Ted. There were several others that could probably provide her with the information and advice she needed, and yet she persevered with him. Now that she examined her motivations it was easy to see she was fighting with her own demons.

With a deep sigh, she realised this agitation and struggle with an immutable force was the exact opposite of her marriage. Where Ethan had capitulated to every confrontation, here was a man who could not be broken. She was fighting with a ghost, something that had never existed in her own life. Ethan had betrayed her for another as the ultimate capitulation, but she could not find Ted’s limits, she couldn’t break him.

A smile crossed her face. “Well, today I found your measure.”

Ultimately though she knew there was no point to this confrontation; there could be no winner. Looking back on her interaction with this man she sensed there was little chance of his suddenly becoming open and forthcoming. He didn’t want to contribute, he wasn’t interested, he didn’t care, and he viewed her presence in his realm with a barely concealed distaste.

Something niggled at her though, and as she passed through reception at the central office, instead of heading to her small corner office, she veered towards human resources. Someone had fashioned Coremade and she was becoming certain it wasn’t Ted. Perhaps whoever this was had openly contributed and then been silenced as history was reinvented with Ted as the centre of the universe, but it had to be somebody from that insular world in Kensington. Even Richard had said several times that the plan for Coremade’s reinvention had come from within.

Leaning against the door to the office of the HR manager, who hadn’t noticed she was standing there yet. When he finally looked up, his attention became immediately alert. “Do you need something?” His voice quavered after not having spoken for some time.

She framed a series of questions in her mind before replying. “The warehouse in Kensington. Could you get me a list of people who worked there in ’96, and how long they’d been there? And can I also have the current list?”

Jason frowned at the strange request. “Sure. May I ask why you want it?”

“It’s probably nothing.” She turned away. “Could you leave on my desk when you get it done?” She paused. “And if you could get me a sample timesheet of each person, that would be great.” Without further comment she walked away.

The sheets of data were promptly delivered to her and she began to leaf through them. In total there were twelve employees out there at the time. From the timesheets, four were dedicated to warehouse duties and the other eight she guessed were assigned to Coremade.

Checking against the current roster, there were only two of those eight that weren’t still employed. She smiled. “Well Ted, you may be a moron, but you seem to inspire loyalty.”

A shadow appeared in front of her and she looked up. Richard stood there impassively. “I thought I saw you come in.” He paused. “You’re not here much.”

She gave him a shallow smile. “I hate offices; they’re pigeon holes and they make you small.”

He eased past the threshold and looked around absently at the details of a room almost free of adornment. “I want to talk to you about Ted.”

Amelia slumped her shoulders. “Richard, I’m not beating him up, and I’m not asking much of his time. The guy just will not contribute.”

“I know.”

She frowned at the acknowledging tone in his voice and the absence of his usual imperious attitude. “What do you mean you know?”

“Exactly that. I know you’re not going heavy on him, I know you’re being patient and I know why you keep at him.”

Leaning back in the chair, Amelia folded her arms. “So what exactly is this conversation about?”

Richard unwound himself into the small club chair to the left of her desk. “I don’t think there’s that much more you can do with him. He’s not going to give you what you want.”

“And that’s acceptable to you?” Her voice was flat and emotionless.

He came forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “Amelia, I don’t know how the hell he managed to come up with what happened down there. All I can say is that it works and it keeps working. I’ve spoken to the cranky prick and he’s scared of me. Even given that I can’t get a read on whether he’s strong and intelligent or just a pig who lucked on something.”

Amelia took a deep breath. “Rich, you can’t luck on something like that. Somewhere, somehow, somebody came up with what Coremade is.”

“And maybe that was Ted and maybe it wasn’t. I’m prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt and let him run that place. It’s been ten years and it’s still working, that tells me something.”

She sighed and her eyes narrowed. “This isn’t like you, what’s going on?”

Richard stood more erect and looked down at her. “Arthur’s heard you’ve been down at Kensington.” He paused. “Amelia, he’s concerned.” There was a thinly veiled threat in his tone.

“Arthur? I still don’t understand why were you so intent on keeping it.” Her brow creased up into a deep frown. Taken aback at the mention of the word ‘concern’, she continued quietly. “I know it has sentimental value but why is Arthur so interested in Coremade?”

“Arthur told me that Coremade had to be kept in Kensington, it had to be kept going and it had to be kept true to its brand.” Richard spread his hands. “He was extremely forceful about those points, it was part of the handover of CEO to me. As he turned and began to walk away, he spoke in a haughty tone. “Be careful Amelia.”

Momentarily unsettled by his comments, Amelia took her thoughts away from the spreadsheets in front of her. Perhaps she didn’t need Ted. As the moments passed though, her disquiet heightened. This first part of rebuilding the product lines, the ideas, wasn’t everything, there were many more trials to overcome. She focused on the documents in front of her again. Somewhere within the sheaf of papers in front of her was the name of a person who could help, and she was becoming more and more sure now that it wasn’t Ted. She was certainly nervous about Arthur’s attention, but reasoned that surely she wasn’t doing anything wrong.

After another twenty minutes of scanning and cross referencing the material in front of her, she came up with four names. Three she’d already met as part of the course of her waiting for Ted and none of them presented with the attitude, insight, drive or inquisitiveness she would have expected. The fourth was someone she hadn’t met; a man by the name of Alan Wilson. He was there throughout the '90s, and was there still. According to his summary he had enormous annual leave and sick leave owing, which told her he was never away from his post.

Amelia smiled and pushed the rest of the papers away. “Maybe it’s you.”

She could picture most of the people in that chaotic jumble of machinery and benches and in quick time she narrowed it down to several faces this person might be. With a great deal of concentration Amelia dismissed this line of thinking from her mind. It would be at least a week before she could routinely press Ted again, and there was much work for her to do. She was mature enough to realise part of her fascination was because this was a diversion from a much greater challenge, like the unreasonable calling one has to organise a sock drawer the day before an exam.

Making one concession to this puzzle before she cast it from her mind, Amelia called the woman on the front counter at the factory and circumspectly quizzed her on Alan. The responses she received were vague, though the woman was obviously trying to be helpful, Amelia came away with little except a description of where the man spent most of his time in the factory.

The following morning she was doing tedious administration when her desk phone rang. She left the three people at her small meeting table to answer it and was greeted with the grave tone of their usually effervescent receptionist.

“Arthur is on the line for you.”

Amelia frowned and paused before responding. “Don’t you mean for Richard?”

“No, he wants to talk to you.”

Taking a deep breath, Amelia turned towards the others in the room and waved them away with a tight lipped smile. “Sorry I have to take this, we can finish this up later, we’re almost there.” None of them commented and they quickly filed out of the office. “Ok Jenny, put him through.” At the click she spoke in a dispassionate voice. “Hello Amelia Wightman.”

A deep and well weathered voice responded in level tones. “Amelia, it’s Arthur here. How are you?”

Making her voice immediately more soft and open, she replied quickly. “Hello Arthur. I’m well. A lot to do here but we’re getting through it all I think.”

“Yes, I’ve had some whispers coming through to me of what you’ve been up to. You’re doing a great deal it would seem.”

She was flattered. That whispering could have come from anywhere given his sources, but she chose now to suspect Richard though there was little doubt he’d have done so only to take credit. “It’s nice of Richard to mention me, but really it’s everyone here, we’re all working hard.”

He gave a soft chuckle, though it was a humourless gesture. “He’s not mentioned you, I have other eyes and ears in Havesheld.”

Amelia felt a slight chill at that statement. Arthur, like each of his forebears, had been an implacable and almost heroic figure; astute, worldly and possessed of extremely strong will and a towering resolve. To have him acknowledge her existence filled Amelia with a thrill of excitement, but beyond that, other questions began to form in her mind.

Awed though she was of him, she wasn’t cowed, and she spoke her mind. “Arthur, I have a question, if I might?”

Silent for a moment, the elderly man finally replied quietly. “Which is?”

“Well, if you’re in touch enough with this place to know what I’m doing,” she tried to phrase the question delicately, “why did you let James get us into the position we’re in now?” Arthur had run the business profitably for forty years, through all sorts of economic conditions; if he knew what was going on, why would he let it come so close to ruin?

The reply, when it came, was delivered in an even tone. “Who do you think told Richard what was going on?”

Genuinely startled, she couldn’t help the most obvious response. “You knew?”

“Of course I did, but I had to let him run the company. Only when the danger was too great did I step in and tell him what to do.”

Amelia was confused. “But Richard found it out himself, when he got that call from the bank and then started putting it all together.”

Arthur’s tone became more flat as his patience seemed to wane. “No, that’s how I told him to make the play when you confronted James so he’d leave quietly and without a fight.”

Her mind was racing, but Amelia knew better than to ask details; he’d told her as much as she needed to know to figure out the rest. Quickly her mind came to a more pressing observation. “Has all this got anything to do with why you’re calling me?”

“Yes it does. As I said, you’re doing a great deal and it’s been observed.” His voice became softer again. “You should keep doing exactly what you have been.”

Thoughts still racing, Amelia didn’t quite know how to reply. Nothing insightful or dramatic came to mind so she finally responded in a simple manner. “Thank you, it’s nice to know that we’ve done enough for you to notice.”

“You have and now I’ll leave you to your day.” Without further comment the line went dead.

Amelia sat quietly at her desk, still holding the receiver dumbly in her hand. Her mind replayed every word the elderly man had said, and she felt intoxicated and somewhat stunned by the implications. Never overtly ambitious or political in the way she worked, it wasn’t obvious to her why Arthur had seen fit to say what he had. There could be no doubt though there had been a reason for the call and at the moment she had no idea what that reason was. All she was sure of was that some comments had been made as to Richard’s abilities, and she felt energised to make her instincts a little more vocal.

The return of Amelia’s attention towards Ted Warwick came several weeks later when the options for a new range were presented to her. As was now the practice, the prototypes presented were the standard fare provided from a range of suppliers across south east Asia and South America. All her people had done was collect a series of next season models currently on offer. Havesheld had had no contribution to their design whatsoever. What usually happened now was that upper and sole materials would be chosen and branding applied. Carefully instructed, the factories had the ability to produce whatever was ordered, but there was always a long process of repeated clarifications and fine tuning. It had simply become easier to choose from what was on offer and swap suppliers haphazardly to choice.

Amelia sighed as she regarded them. Completely derivative and unidentifiable from their competitors, they had absolutely nothing in their construction or design that commanded attention. Knowing that the range was a particularly traditional type she saw no immediate way, beyond names and packaging, to give them any flair or unique character.

Staring at a nondescript shoe the image of the Coremade product lodged in her mind and no matter how she tried to dismiss it the sense of its unique design floated back into her thoughts. To no one in particular Amelia spoke out loud in the empty conference room where the shoes were spread out around her. “Ted, you’re going to help me with these. You can forget all the rest, but these you, or whoever it was that did Coremade, is going to sort this out.”

Glancing at her watch, she noted it was well past 7pm. Knowing that nobody would be at the factory, she slouched back in the chair. She started to think about going home for the day; this could be a problem for tomorrow. As she started to let thoughts of work float from her mind an idea placed itself in her thoughts and she began to scoop the shoes back into the large athletics bags they had been delivered in.

It would be weeks before she could corner Ted, and because it had been months since she’d last pestered him he’d start again with his delaying ploys. If she went in there early and unannounced, laid all these shoes out, not only would all of the Coremade staff see them, but when Ted came in he’d have no choice but to deal with her little problem. A large note, for all to see, would explain the issue and perhaps her mystery designer, if he or she in fact existed, would get to see and maybe think about the problem.

Excited by the idea, Amelia retrieve the small ring of keys from her top desk drawer. Amongst them was one for the small door at the back of the factory with a tag for the alarm code. With difficulty she hoisted the three bags and unsteadily made down the wide corridor to the bank of lifts.

It was a dark winter’s evening, and a light drizzle filled the city sky with a heavy, ominous presence. The street lights glowed with a hazy radiance before the rain smothered their light a half metre distant making them look like fairy floss in bright afternoon sun. As she pulled into the narrow street at the front of the factory she frowned at its sullen disposition. During the day it was a dreary place, now it was withdrawn and dejected. A peppering of lights along the row of narrow terrace houses was the only suggestion that activity existed in this place.

Turning her car down the side street a few buildings down from the factory and then down the broad right of way that served the rear of the factory, she was even more taken by the oppressive surrounds. As Amelia pulled up in front of the high metal roller door she whispered to herself, “No wonder the developers haven’t come barrelling in here yet.”

Leaving the lights on Amelia stepped out into the chill night and moved to the inset door, hunching down into her long jacket. It took a few moments to negotiate the old lock, but after a series of movements it clicked free and the metal panel swung inward. Stepping past she reached the alarm panel and quickly punched in the codes. Cowed by the ominous presence of the warehouse, she reached for the large central switch and the huge space was immediately bathed in warm light.

Despite the presence of so much illumination the deserted warehouse still filled her with trepidation. There were dark corners and deep shadows everywhere, and the absence of any noise or activity left her with the feeling something was about to strike. Feeling her heart start to pound, Amelia thought of all the corridors and rooms that were scattered beyond the warehouse and she was on the verge of turning around and scrambling back into her car.

Steeling herself, she took a deep breath. “It’s the same place as during the day, it’s just that there’s no light.” Forcing herself to stare into the deepest shadows she walked a little way forward and stood resolute. Minutes passed and her emotions began to settle, the instinctive fears of her subconscious abating. She returned her thoughts to the reason she was here.

Excited anew by the idea Amelia retrieved the bags from her car, awkwardly shouldering through the narrow door.She headed for the Coremade section of the factory, ignoring the dark claws and teeth that lurked just within the pitch black shadows. Reaching the timber doors, she unlocked them and kicked them open with one foot. Again all was completely dark and she had to drop the bags to find the light switches.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the large cutting table in the centre of the space. One end was relatively clear of leather pieces and tools, so she began to unpack and lay out her samples there. It only took a few minutes to order them all, and laying her quickly scrawled but highly visible note in an obvious location, she smiled to herself.

“Let’s see if this gets a response.”

It was as she stood there silently that she heard muffled rumblings coming from her left. Snapping her attention in the direction of the wall behind her she realised the noise came from beyond this room. Going from calm to panic within the barest fraction of a second, Amelia froze for a moment and then snatched the bags from the floor and keeping her panic in check she edged towards the open doors.

Out in the warehouse she stood in the centre of one of the aisles. Trembling, she stopped and spun to regard the row of doors along the back of the warehouse. All were shut and everything was silent. Her heart stilled somewhat but there would be no calming of her nerves. With a great deal of effort Amelia forced herself to take slow steady paces back to the factory and with shaking hands she turned off the lights and then hurriedly pulled the doors closed.

The sound she’d heard filled her mind, a steady grinding followed by a sharp thud. What it might be she had no idea, but there shouldn't anyone or anything else here at this time of night, and she knew all the rooms next to the factory section had been abandoned for years.

She wasn't sticking around to find out. Spinning around quickly, she ran down the long corridor of cartons. The dark black hole of the back door reared up toward her and it seemed to take an eternity to reach it. With every thunderous footfall she imagined something else was following, masked by those sounds, and must by now be within reach. She pushed through the tiny gap, the door swinging open wildly and clattering against the metal roller door.

Coming out into the drizzling rain she spun around quickly and backed towards her car, fumbling at her pockets for the keys. She searched for any sign of movement within the building. There was nothing. The chill of the night and the rain served to distract her thoughts and also gave her a sense of freedom; she was outside and unconfined.

Eventually Amelia managed to convince herself the rumbling noise must have been a cat or perhaps a possum and she admonished herself for being so timid and flighty. Shaking her head she unlocked the car and tossed the bags on the back seat. Returning to the access door she deliberately walked back inside and, with exaggerated calmness, punched in the alarm codes. Staring down along the aisles to the factory doors, there was still no sign of any movement. With an audible click the lights went dark and she stared at the hot bulbs as their glow slowly diminished.

With all dark again Amelia stepped carefully over the metal threshold and pulled the door closed behind her, feeling a sense of relief as it snapped shut. Her hand didn’t leave the handle though and she stood silently in the rain, her expression distant. Playing the sound she’d heard over in her mind, she still felt uncomfortable. It hadn’t been the rasping or groaning of building movement or the scuffle of an animal moving or dislodging something. As she thought about it more, Amelia realised those rooms next to the factory were probably in-bound and didn’t have any external windows, and that meant it was unlikely animals could get in there, at least anything much bigger than a rat.

She breathed deeply. “Those sounds were from something bigger than rats and mice.” Perhaps there was an intruder in the factory.

Pausing for a moment Amelia looked around at both her car, the door, and the fence at the back of the yard, judging how she could get away if something came at her. Spooked, and still on the verge of diving for the safety of the vehicle, she found it difficult to even entertain the thoughts she now had. At last she remembered the pepper spray in her satchel and retrieving it, Amelia quietly unlocked the door again and slowly opened it so she could see down the aisle.

There was almost no light inside and she gripped the pepper spray as the darkness beyond the door seemed to reach out to grab her. Remaining perfectly motionless with her other hand gripping the looped door handle, Amelia watched the vague blobs of shapes with ever fleeting eyesight.

For a moment she glanced down at her watch and the luminescent hands showed that it was just after 8:30pm. She resolved to wait for fifteen minutes. The cold of the night and the rain, which had become more insistent, bore down into her. Beginning to doubt this notion, she was on the verge of pulling the door shut and retreating to the comfort of air conditioning when the barest smudge of light and then a narrow sliver appeared just to the left of the Coremade factory doors. Brightening briefly, a shape moved across it and then all went dark again.

Startled to the point of panicking, it took every ounce of resolve for Amelia to slowly step back outside and pull the door closed, twisting the key so it wouldn’t make any sound. The rain was heavier now, an insistent drumming, but she hardly noticed it on the way to her car. Trembling and keeping her eyes resolutely downward, she slid noiselessly into the driver’s seat and locked the doors. Inside the cocoon of the car she felt some small measure of safety, but at any moment she expected one of the windows to smash and rough hands to reach for her.

Fumbling with the ignition key she turned the engine on and with only the park lights on, backed very slowly away from the warehouse. Once she reached the safety of the illuminated main street at the side of the factory, and with clear sight in every direction, Amelia breathed a deep sigh of relief, and willed her shaking left leg on the clutch into calmness. Turning the headlights on, she turned left and headed along the front of the factory, giving it a wide berth, but peering intently at the rows of dark windows.

It was then that she noticed a figure on the opposite side of the street. For only a moment she saw a slender man in a fawn raincoat enter the front yard of one of the tiny terrace houses before he disappeared into its darkened depths. There was nothing secretive or furtive about his movements, and he didn’t glance in her direction, but still she felt there was something strange about his presence.

Amelia found her emotions moving from edgy anxiousness to puzzlement as she pondered the person she’d just seen. It took a moment for her to realise what troubled her, but eventually she realised; his coat was slick with rain. That meant he hadn’t just stepped from a car, he had no umbrella, no dog, and there were no shops anywhere near; why would anyone be out on such a miserable cold night?

Suddenly overcome with fatigue, Amelia resolved not to think about it any further, and with enormous concentration she forced chaotic thoughts from her mind. She drove sedately towards home through the warren of Kensington’s and North Melbourne’s streets.

The call from Ted came at 9:45am the following morning, as expected. Amelia was pleasantly and deceptively calm with his tirade and the older man quickly realised that something was different in her demeanour. After a short burst of indignation at her intrusion he ran out of bluster.

“Ted, you need to relax. Be a good lad, take a look at the range and come back to me with your comments. Take a couple of days if you need it.” Amelia’s voice was silken.

There was a pause before he responded. “There’s a lot on here, it may not be convenient.”

She replied with an edge in her voice. “No more or less than there’s been for the last five years, but listen, if you want me to prioritise your diary I’d be happy to. Hang on, I’ll just get it up here.” She made a mock gesture of leaning forward and clicking the mouse.

Indignant at the implication, his reply was icy. “I’m going to Richard, this is ridiculous.”

“Do whatever you want, Ted, but I’ll be in there on Friday at 9am and you’d better have the response there for me.” Without waiting for his reply, she hung up.

Within half an hour there was the expected call from Richard, which she was able to deflect easily. Keeping her conversation with Arthur to herself she nonetheless had a new confidence with his arrogant haughtiness, explaining her antagonism of Ted as an innocent prod to have him engage. Richard was mollified, though he was patronising as he counselled her to moderate her behaviour.

Hanging up the phone, she stared at the receiver. “Richard, I’m beginning to think you’re amazingly stupid.”

She turned her thoughts again to the man she had seen going into the house on the opposite side of the street. Had it been him in the factory? But she was confounded as to what he might have been doing in there at night. Confounded and, in a small part of her mind, intrigued.

What could there be that would have someone wandering around that cold dark place in the middle of winter? Her imagination could come up with nothing and with a sigh she turned back to the emails on the screen in front of her. “You have more than enough to do already without hunting for ghosts.”

Despite the self admonishment, over the next few days her attention frequently wandered back to the figure she’d observed, though she didn’t call or return to the factory. By Friday she’d dealt with the sense of confrontation and walked confidently through the warehouse just before 9am. She smiled at the irrational comfort that just a little light made to her demeanour, though it was just as abandoned as it had been when she’d been there nights before.

As she pushed through the double doors she was surprised to see Ted leaning over his desk. Screwing up her face in suspicion Amelia approached his office and as she reached for the door handle he looked up. There was an expression of smug satisfaction on his face as he briefly glanced at her before resolutely returning his attention to the report on his desk.

Without greeting her or meeting her eyes he waved his arm towards the coffee table. “I’ll be with you in a moment, take a seat.”

Exhaling softly Amelia ignored his efforts at control; as long as there were some meaningful responses to her material she could deal with his ridiculous manner. Her suspicion was raised further when instead of making her wait for ages as was his usual habit, he came over almost immediately. In his hands was a small sheaf of papers.

“I don’t agree with your manner or methods, but I don’t want to see any part of Havesheld be mediocre or shoddy. Despite the distraction from Coremade, I’ve given some thought to what you brought in and have some ideas that must be considered.” His voice and demeanour were pompous and self aggrandising as he carefully laid out a series of sketches on the table.

What indignation she began to feel at his words evaporated as she took in the drawings. There on simple A4 white paper was a carefully, meticulously hand-drawn design. Plans, elevations and in section, what she saw was obviously derived from the range she’d left there, maintaining its core qualities, but still subtly and quite profoundly different. One sheet to the right had a series of loose options and variations, but the detailed sketches on the other pages were of one only.

Amelia was silent as she regarded the very confident drawings, looking briefly over again at the more loose sketch options before returning to the main images. She felt a warmth and an excitement; if this could be made cost effectively, if the branding and marketing were effective, this line alone could rebuild some the prestige Havesheld had lost. She could picture professionals using it, it would go with shorts and jeans, and would work well in dramatic colours.

She listened to Ted droning on about the need to renew a tired old cliché and knew from his words that this was a formulaic speech. It had nothing to do with where the idea had come from or what it was trying to achieve. Despite his grand words, she knew he’d had nothing to do with the idea. Looking over her shoulder Amelia saw that the door to his office was shut. Ted had only done this previously when he knew he was going to be chastised. She smiled, realising the true author was probably out there on the factory floor.

Knowing there would be no further commentary from him that would be of any use, she stood and regarded him warmly. “You’ve done an exceptional job here, Ted. This is a bold and imaginative response.” She couldn’t help but place at least one barb. “Is this all yours or did you get any of them out there to help on it?”

Predictably, he stepped into the limelight. “Some of them made some detail comments. The ideas, though, were all mine.”

Ignoring his statement, Amelia reached down for the drawings. “These look like photocopies, do you mind if I take them?”

“No, take them, but I’ll have your word.”

She frowned at the bizarre comment. “Word on what?”

He folded his arms. “Richard and the board will know that I’ve done this, but I want no further part in its development. From here it’s your responsibility, but I’ll keep the originals and compare it to what you produce to make sure the design doesn’t get ruined.”

Feeling herself on the edge of making a waspish retort, she held her tongue at the absolute futility of any response. Instead she smiled and nodded. “I will do my best.”

Ted moved away from the table as she scooped up the drawings and returned to his desk. “Now you’ve taken up too much of my time, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t come back here again for some time.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke, making a mock effort at flicking through the piles of papers in front of him.

Amelia rolled her eyes as she made for the door. “Ted, I will do my very best. This is an extraordinary contribution you’ve made, a great start, I’ll make sure the development is done by others to leave you in peace.” Somehow she managed to convey earnestness where her emotions were only cynical and just a little incredulous at his bravado.

Turning towards the door Amelia dragged her eyes from the drawings and scanned the factory floor. Surely the author was among those out there and they must want to know how their designs were received. They must be watching now. Moving her attention from one far corner to the other, locking briefly on every figure, it was with some surprise that she acknowledged nobody was looking towards the office.

Amelia mumbled to herself as she reached for the handle, “Who does something like this and doesn’t want to know how it turned out.”

It was only then that she noticed the innocuous figure watching her discreetly from a corner of the long cutting bench. Hunched over a weathered last, the man’s head was tilted slightly sideways so that he could see her past the lank tresses of hair that hung over his face. Amelia almost swept her eyes past him, so non-descript was his composure and appearance, but returned his stare quickly as she realised he might be the person she sought. Excitement stabbed through her. Why else would he look at her that way? It must be him.

As soon as she met his eyes the man dropped his attention back to the forming piece of leather in front of him. His hands danced around the last, stretching, tugging and fastening. There was a dextrousness and efficiency to his movements that was at odds with the complete disregard he seemed to have for his own appearance.

Without interrupting her step Amelia passed through the door and moved out onto the factory floor. Other eyes lifted to regard her now and she met each briefly as she walked purposefully. As often as could be considered casual interest she returned her gaze to the man perched on the stool at the corner of the table. Jeans, runners and a flannel windcheater, there was nothing considered or identifiable about anything he wore; these were clothes to serve a purpose not to be any signpost as to who the person was.

To her estimation he was in his mid twenties, thin, pale, with light brown hair hanging in loose strands around his shoulders. From their first brief glimpse Amelia remembered he had hazel eyes and small features.

Glancing at him one more time before she reached the door she wondered momentarily at the stock society placed on the aristocracy of appearance. Were he dressed and groomed well, with a confident stance and demeanour, she’d take the person before her seriously, perhaps even defer to him without having spoken a word. But here was a person that showed none of those qualities, and instinctively she hadn’t even noticed him as she first swept the factory.

Out in the warehouse she kept her attention on the image of the man in her mind and then finally found her thoughts settling on the jacket draped over the back of his chair. Screwing her feature up into a frown Amelia wondered why she found it familiar. Standing next to the door of her car she was almost ready to dismiss the niggling sensation before she realised what it was; it was the coat the figure she’d seen briefly last night had been wearing. It had been him in the warehouse.

Anxious now, she fumbled with the keys and carefully deposited the drawings on the back seat before sliding into the driver’s seat and called Janet at the factory’s front reception. It took a few moments to remind the woman who she was and then she started to describe the man. She had to repeat the description several times, expanding carefully, before the light of comprehension dawned.

“Oh, you must be talking about Jared Briggs,” Janet said enthusiastically. “He’s a very shy boy, been here forever, that’s why I didn’t think of him.”

Amelia frowned. “Forever, what do you mean by that? He didn’t look that old to me.”

There was a short laugh, an almost cackle. “He was sweeping the floors of the factory and doing odd jobs when he was a kid, left school early, was an apprentice, has been here ever since.” She paused for a moment. “I don’t think he’s ever done anything else. In fact, I don’t think he’s ever been out of the city.”

Amelia still had little sense of him. “He’s what, twenty-five or thirty?”

“Something like that.”

Realising she’d shown too much interest already, Amelia was dismissive. “Ok, thanks, he’s not who I thought he was.”

The response was immediate. “Who were you looking for?”

Thinking quickly, Amelia responded without pausing. “I thought he might have been someone I’d seen at head office, but that guy was much older.”

A rasping laugh echoed through the receiver again. “It wasn’t Jared, that’s way too far away for him, and much too adventurous.”

Taking the drawings back to the office, she showed Richard and Adam. It took little more than a glance before the both of them lit up animatedly. Providing they could be made durably and cost effectively, there was no doubt in any of their minds there would be an expectant market for the range.

Only Adam began to ask her where the design had come from; Richard had already lost interest and with mumblings of approval sauntered back to his expansive office. While Amelia thought about how to answer the question she made a show of watching him walk away. “Getting back to his share trading is obviously more important than this.”

“You got a few seconds from him, what more did you expect?” Leaving the question unanswered, Adam continued. “Amelia, who did this? I know it didn’t come out of your little design group.”

She regarded him for a moment, before finally deciding to be forthcoming. “I’m not exactly sure. Ted claims he came up with it, but he doesn’t have it in him. There’s a young guy there I think may have had something to do with it, but I’m not sure.”

Adam frowned. “Why?”

She forced her eyes and distant thoughts back into focus. “Ted doesn’t know and I’m sure the only reason we have these is because I snuck in there the other night and spread out the range on the cutting table together with a brief.” Amelia spread her hands slightly. “Someone saw it and came up with this.” She pursed her lips. “While I was still in the closed office with Ted, this guy was watching. I’ve got a hunch he wanted to know how his designs went over.”

Folding his arms, Adam suggested, “Ted could have gotten help.”

Amelia shook her head. “Hasn’t before. Every time I take something in there, he gives me a few throw away comments and then refuses to do anything else.” She breathed deeply. “This is someone else’s doing. He wouldn’t ask for help himself, so it has to be someone around that strange little place in there.”

Nodding, Adam gave her a smile. “The shoemaker's elf?” He shrugged. “Well, what does it matter? One of these every now and again can only help us. Who cares who did it?” He fixed her with a level gaze. “Unless, of course, that person leaves.”

She spread her arms. “That’s the thing I don’t get though; someone with this talent, surely they’d want to do something with it? None of them leave, they’ve all been there for years.” She resolved to keep it to herself that she had ideas about who it was.

Adam pursed his lips. “Not everyone wants to do things with what they have. Laziness, apathy, fear of rejection, inferiority complexes; take your pick.”

“Could be. Just seems to me to be a terrible waste.”

As he walked away, Adam threw a final comment back down the corridor. “Not a complete waste though; we have Coremade, and we have what’s in your hands there.”

Later that night, as she sat in her darkened apartment and stared out over the rippling ocean, her thoughts kept trailing back to this unassuming young man. The gas fire cast a softly rippling array of shadows over the ceiling, while eight stories below, a spattering of cars swept calmly along the road, their head and tail lights smothered by a light fog. The scene calmed her. Taking another sip of the shiraz in her hand she tried again to question why this still commanded her attention.

There was definitely some agitation over Ted’s claiming authorship of the drawings and his pompous arrogance certainly riled her, but there was something else. In that brief exchange of glances with the man, she’d seen something, an energy that was completely at odds with his position, appearance and demeanour. Then there was the likelihood that he was the person that startled her at the factory. What on earth had he been doing in those dark empty rooms?

She stood up and walked towards the floor to ceiling glass and peered down at the beach. “I’m going to talk to you, my friend. I want to know what you’re about.”

Deciding that it was best not to provoke Ted any further, or make a scene in front of a person so obviously intent on remaining obscure, Amelia decided to approach Jared after work at the factory. It would still be before dusk, and it was an open, public street, she felt comfortable that it would be safe.

Resolved now she drained the last dregs from the glass and walked across the room to the softly illuminated kitchen. Placing the glass down on the black granite her thoughts gravitated the warming successes she’d had over the last months. How she’d overcome impasses, solved problems and even come to the attention of the company’s implacable patriarch. After the debilitating years of her marriage and its disintegration, that insidious sense of failure, it was intoxicating ito feel vital and purposeful again.

“I can do this.” The words were a whisper, but they held a deeply forceful longing. Amelia couldn’t explain why this almost euphoria of ambition had gripped her, but it had taken hold; it had given her purpose and she wouldn’t turn from the course it had set her upon.