Midnight (23 page)

When she looked up, Jack was gone, and the door firmly closed behind him. Feeling humiliated, and grabbing up the bunch of keys, she threw them over to Tess’s desk with such force that they caught the pen-jar, which flew off the desk and sent the pens flying in all directions. Scrabbling about on her knees to collect them before the boss returned, Tina made the air turn blue with her cursing.

Jack was not looking forward to the long drive, though he had already travelled the same journey several times these past weeks to keep an eye on his house and gradually take more stuff up. He had been very busy in his new job, sitting in on staff interviews and overseeing the first delivery of new vehicles, and most importantly, keeping abreast of and also approving the security precautions at the new showrooms.

It was only now that he realised the true extent of the responsibility he had taken on. But he would shoulder it with pride, and would repay the company with the same trust and loyalty they had shown him. The sad thing was, he had no one to share his new life with. No one to come home to of an evening and tell them how his day had gone. No one to ask about their day, or their achievements. No one to spoil, or to laugh with. And most of all, no one to fill the huge void that had arisen in his life.

Now, as he passed through the pretty village of Aspley Guise in central Bedfordshire, he planned to keep going northward on the motorway to the Keele turn-off. There was a café there, where he’d stop for a coffee and a bite to eat. From then on, it was only a matter of three-quarters of an hour and he would be off the motorway and on the main road into Blackburn.

The thought of one day actually buying a property in his hometown was both unsettling and a source of great excitement. Whoever would have thought when he was a boy, lonely and unloved, that one day he would be coming home, having done so well for himself?

Thinking back, he recalled his father’s tragic end. Even now, after all these years, it didn’t seem real. But then, tragedies rarely do. As for his mother, Jack doubted if she would even have cared about his success one way or another. He wondered fleetingly where she might be at this given moment in time. Was she still Mrs John J. Towner, with three stepchildren? And how did she physically look, after all these years, at the age of fifty? Would he recognise her if he saw her in the street? And would she be all over him if she knew he was earning a tidy salary, and planning to buy a house back in the town she had deserted, along with her son? Unsettled, he thrust her from his mind.

Two hours later, after a good run through thin traffic, he came off the motorway at the Keele stop, as he had intended. Having filled his petrol tank, he went to pay at the desk.

‘Come off the motorway, ’ave yer?’ The man behind the desk was round as a barrel. ‘I avoid that motorway whenever I can,’ he grumbled. ‘The buggers can’t wait to kill themselves. Damned fools – driving like lunatics!’

He took an interest in Jack. ‘Yer a southerner, aren’t yer?’ He didn’t wait for Jack to reply. ‘I can tell from yer accent. Looking for lodgings, are yer? I reckon I could help yer there.’

‘No, but thanks anyway.’

With the transaction complete, the man returned Jack’s credit card. ‘There you go then, mate.’

Jack thanked him again, then headed for the café across the courtyard, where he had a bite to eat and the best cup of coffee he’d enjoyed for a long time. Forty minutes later, he arrived at his destination.

Looking up at the monstrous glass-and-steel building that was Curtis Warren Motors, for a moment Jack felt tiny and insignificant. Even now, he found it hard to believe that the company had put such trust and belief in him. Here he was, Manager, and him only just past thirty. Jack was well aware that there were many other men, older and more experienced, who would have jumped at the chance to take on this responsibility.

‘Mr Redmond!’ A small, wiry fellow came rushing out of the main door. ‘I saw you pull up. I know you’ve only just arrived, but if you can spare a minute, there are a few things I need to go through with you.’

Jack had already met the caretaker-cum-maintenance-man, and found him to be well disciplined, proud of his work, and with a pleasant character into the bargain.

‘Hello, Steve, how are you?’ They shook hands and entered the building together. ‘How’s it all going?’

‘Everything is just fine. Except we did have a problem with the alarms.’

Everything’s sorted now. Only last night I had to camp in one of the offices, as I couldn’t get hold of the security people until this morning. Fortunately they sent a man round first thing, and he had it all up and running in no time at all.’

Apparently, he found spiders in two of the sensors, but he cleaned and secured them.

Jack was surprised. ‘I still don’t understand why they wouldn’t come out earlier. As far as I know, they are on a twenty-four-hour call-out.’

‘I’ve no idea, guv. I tried several times to contact them – right through the night, in fact – but there was no one answering . . . except for some posh answerphone voice giving me the office hours.’

‘That’s odd. I understood they had issued an emergency number, should they be needed at any time of day or night. Did you
try
the other number I gave you?’

For a moment, the little man looked at him as though he had no idea what Jack was talking about. When light dawned, he began frantically scratching at his ear. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Mr Redmond – I forgot all about that other number! Oh, dearie me! Oh, I’m sorry. Of course, I have the all-hours emergency number in my drawer – I completely forgot about it.’

He was distraught. ‘That’s an unforgivable mistake.’ His voice fell to little more than a whisper. ‘That’s me down the pan, isn’t it? I’ve lost my job, haven’t I?’

Jack felt for him, but his first loyalty was to the company. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t use that emergency number,’ he told him sternly. ‘There must be well over a million pounds’ worth of vehicles at risk here, let alone the value of office equipment, garage machinery and everything else. Not to mention the crucial fact that if intruders
had
entered the premises, your own safety was at risk!’

Steve was acutely aware of his serious lapse of duty. He had no doubt that it was a sacking offence. ‘I’m sorry I let you down,’ he told Jack solemnly. ‘I’ve no excuse, except that there’s been so much to do these past weeks, it’s been manic. But I made a serious mistake, and I understand the consequences.’ He gave a little nod. ‘I’ll collect my things.’

As he turned away, Jack called him back. For a long, tense moment, Jack battled with his conscience. His head told him he was right to consider letting Steve go, because he well deserved it. But his heart saw the look of despair in the other man’s eyes and something struck home. He knew himself what it was like to make a mistake. He also knew what it was like to let someone down; to be turned away when all you wanted to do was prove yourself. He recalled the days when he was just starting out, when no one believed in him.

He also knew he would not be standing here, on the threshold of his greatest achievement, if someone had not taken a chance on him; if they had not trusted their instinct that he was a good and loyal employee, in spite of earlier mistakes.

‘It was a bad mistake, Steve,’ he said firmly, ‘and yes, it
is
a sackable offence. You put yourself at great risk, and left the premises unsecured, because you did not fall back on a simple emergency procedure as instructed. Even calling the police for assistance would have been better than nothing.’

Feverishly scratching his ear, Steve looked up, expecting and deserving the worst.

‘If I didn’t sack you,’ Jack went on, ‘and it got out, or anything like this happened again because you did not follow proper procedure, then of course, I myself would be held responsible.’ He sighed.

‘Look, Steve, I believe you’ve learned a valuable lesson. You were hired as someone we could rely on to keep this place up and running, and safe at all times. You must always have back up on security. Never leave anything to chance.’

‘Yes, I know that, Mr Redmond, and I’ll make sure I don’t neglect my duties again.’ The little man was visibly nervous, constantly shifting from one foot to the other.

‘There’ll be no sacking today,’ Jack concluded decisively. ‘You made a mistake, but I do believe you’ll be on top of things from now on.’

Greatly relieved, Steve nodded. ‘You don’t need to worry about me,’ he assured Jack, ‘I won’t let you down.’

Jack patted him on the back. ‘Good! Now let’s put it to the back of our minds, because we have an important event coming up, and it’ll be all hands to the pump.’

Both men went away smiling.

Chapter Fourteen

F
OR THE FIRST
time in his working life, Jack’s name stood proud on the door of the manager’s office. The office itself was an amazingly spacious room with a smart, glass-topped desk, and on the walls, Jack planned to hang his set of vintage car pictures.

Accompanied by his assistant Susan Wilson, he did a thorough inspection of the premises, to check on progress for the big open-day event on Saturday. It had taken several weeks of planning to get the new building ready to welcome the public. Jack was satisfied that Sue was already proving her worth and was more than capable of supporting him in his newly acquired role as manager. Moreover, her attention to detail was second to none.

‘I’m concerned about your last email,’ said Jack as they discussed the all-important event. ‘You said you’d been let down by the caterers. Now, did you manage to find a suitable replacement?’

‘I did, yes, Mr Redmond – and not only did they turn out to be a good deal cheaper on their quote, but according to my enquiries, their service and range of food are excellent.’

‘Well done!’ That particular problem had been playing on his mind. ‘Now then . . . how about a nice cup of coffee in my office, and we’ll go over the last items on our list . . .’

Two busy hours later, they had gone through the last crucial matters, finalising the orders for the banners, brochures and other in-house publicity materials that needed to be picked up on Friday in preparation for Saturday’s grand opening.

There was a healthy banter, and even a friendly dis agreement or two between Jack and his new assistant, but between them, the task was soon completed, to their mutual satisfaction. Susan then went away to a meeting with the press officer.

While she was gone, Jack had a number of calls to make, including one to Head Office, to fill them in on what was happening.

Come early afternoon, it was time to view the house which Susan had organised for Jack to rent, until he found a place to buy. She had placed two properties on standby and needed Jack to make a choice. They drove off, Susan leading the way, with Jack following. The journey was a strange experience for Jack, because he knew most of the streets and landmarks along the journey; the most familiar and poignant being The Sun, the pub where his father and his mates used to drink on a Friday night.

The first stop was a house on Preston New Road. It was a grand, stylish house, on three levels, with a rise of steps going up to the front door. Inside, it was cavernous, with rooms of generous size, and an amazing view over to Corporation Park.

‘What do you think?’ Susan was eager to know.

‘Well, yes. It’s certainly a fine old house.’

Having walked the length and breadth of the house, Jack appreciated her choice, but decided, ‘It’s too big, too impersonal. I just can’t see myself in it. Not even short-term.’

When he caught a glimpse of Corporation Park, a deep nostalgia took hold of him, and he vowed to come back later. There had been many times during his boyhood in Bower Street when Jack had desperately needed a friend and confidant. After his father later died from the injuries he suffered in the factory fire, his mother worked longer and longer hours at the hotel. Most of the time she didn’t even seem to know or care that she had a son. She didn’t ask Jack if he was missing his father, or whether he needed to talk.

Wise beyond his years, Jack understood that she was unhappy, that she needed someone. But so did he. Yet, while his mother took solace in dates with hotel guests, he was left to deal with his grief and confusion alone – as well as trying to cope with his schoolwork.

He was lost, and the one who cared was his friend, Libby. Thomas too, had been there for him, but Libby was nearer his age and understood. She too had lost a father – albeit a long time ago.

For as long as he lived, he would never forget that caring, wonderful girl. But, like everything else, good or bad in these past years, she was lost to him now. Like Molly. Like the house he had bought with such high hopes once he had moved to Bedfordshire.

Wasn’t it strange – and unsettling, he thought – how life just ticks on, like a great timeless clock, going ever forward. Never backwards.

He thought about his nightmares; the fear of which had brought him back to Lancashire. Twelve long years ago, life and circumstances had taken him away; now they carried him back.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
Never-ending. Never knowing in which direction life might take you.

But what of the nightmares? Had they too, come full circle, like the psychiatrist said? Was he now meant to find out what had triggered them?

He shuddered. Night or day, the images were never far away. Sometimes, if he just closed his eyes for a moment, he was back there, in that dark place of midnight, with the full moon overhead shedding a ghostly light over everything below. He could feel the chilling cold. And see those eyes . . . staring at him, drawing him down and down.

Jack forced the images to the back of his mind.

As he got back into his car, he was thinking of Bower Street, where he grew up. He could be there within twenty minutes, he thought. He knew he wasn’t ready yet, but one day soon, he would make his way there. Above all else, that was inevitable.

He wondered if Libby and Eileen were still living in Bower Street. Then there was Thomas Farraday, who by now must be in his late sixties, possibly edging seventy. Would he still be living in that same house, or had he moved away? Or even worse, perhaps have passed on.