The Sins of the Father (The Clifton Chronicles, #2)(70)

Hugo gave him a fixed stare and said, ‘Chairman.’

‘I’m sorry, chairman,’ said a man who had served on the board of Barrington’s when Hugo was in short trousers.

‘I’d like you to bring me up to date on the company’s financial position.’

‘Of course, chairman.’ Lockwood opened the red folder he’d been carrying under his arm.

As the chairman hadn’t invited him to sit, he remained standing. ‘Your father,’ he began, ‘managed to guide the company prudently through troubled times, and despite several setbacks, not least the Germans continually targeting the docks during their nightly bombing raids in the early part of the war, with the help of government contracts, we have managed to weather the storm, so we should be in good shape once this dreadful war is over.’

‘Cut the waffle,’ said Hugo, ‘and get to the bottom line.’

‘Last year,’ continued the managing director turning a page, ‘the company made a profit of thirty-seven thousand, four hundred pounds and ten shillings.’

‘Wouldn’t want to forget the ten shillings, would we,’ said Hugo.

‘That was always your father’s attitude,’ said Lockwood, missing the sarcasm.

‘And this year?’

‘Our half yearly results suggest that we’re well placed to equal, possibly even surpass, last year’s results.’ Lockwood turned another page.

‘How many places are currently available on the board?’ asked Hugo.

The change of subject took Lockwood by surprise, and he had to turn several pages before he could respond. ‘Three, as unfortunately Lord Harvey, Sir Derek Sinclair and Captain Havens all resigned following your father’s death.’

‘I’m glad to hear that,’ said Hugo. ‘It will save me the trouble of sacking them.’

‘I presume, chairman, you would not wish me to record those sentiments in my minutes of this meeting?’

‘I don’t give a damn if you do or don’t,’ Hugo said.

The managing director bowed his head.

‘And when are you due to retire?’ was Hugo’s next question.

‘I’ll be sixty in a couple of months’ time, but if you felt, chairman, given the circumstances—’

‘What circumstances?’

‘As you will only just have got your feet under the table, so to speak, I could be persuaded to stay on for a couple more years.’

‘That’s good of you,’ said Hugo, and the managing director smiled for the second time that morning. ‘But please don’t put yourself out on my account. Two months will be just fine by me. So what’s the biggest challenge we’re facing at the moment?’

‘We have recently applied for a major government contract to lease out our merchant fleet to the navy,’ said Lockwood once he’d recovered. ‘We’re not the favourites, but I think your father gave a good account of himself when the inspectors visited the company earlier this year, so we should be taken seriously.’

‘When will we find out?’

‘Not for some time, I fear. Civil servants aren’t built for speed,’ he added, laughing at his own joke. ‘I have also prepared several discussion papers for your consideration, chairman, so that you will be well briefed before you chair your first board meeting.’

‘I don’t anticipate holding that many board meetings in the future,’ said Hugo. ‘I believe in leading from the front, making decisions and standing by them. But you can leave your briefing papers with my secretary, and I’ll get round to them when I find the time.’

‘As you wish, chairman.’

Within moments of Lockwood leaving his office, Hugo was on the move. ‘I’m going to visit my bank,’ he said as he passed Miss Potts’s desk.

‘Shall I call Mr Prendergast and let him know you’d like to see him?’ Miss Potts asked as she hurried after him down the corridor.

‘Certainly not,’ said Hugo. ‘I want to take him by surprise.’

‘Is there anything you need me to do before you return, Sir Hugo?’ Miss Potts enquired as he stepped into the lift.

‘Yes, see that the name on my door is changed before I get back.’

Miss Potts turned round to look at the office door. Sir Walter Barrington, Chairman was displayed in gold leaf.

The lift door closed.

As Hugo drove into the centre of Bristol, he felt that his first few hours as chairman could not have gone better. All was finally right with the world. He parked his Bugatti outside the National Provincial Bank in Corn Street, leant across and picked up a packet he’d left under the passenger seat.

He strolled into the bank, past the reception desk and headed straight for the manager’s office, giving a little tap on the door before marching in. A startled Mr Prendergast leapt up as Hugo placed a shoebox on his desk and sank into the chair opposite him.

‘I hope I’m not interrupting anything important,’ said Hugo.

‘Of course not, Sir Hugo,’ said Prendergast, staring at the shoebox. ‘I’m available for you at any time.’

‘That’s good to know, Prendergast. Why don’t you begin by bringing me up to date on Broad Street?’

The bank manager scurried across the room, pulled open the drawer of a filing cabinet and extracted a thick folder, which he placed on the table. He sorted through some papers before he spoke again.