The Aul’ Man

"What is it now Dougie?"

"Sorry to bother you again Cormac, but which column do I put this credit-note into, on the new supplier-card?"

For the third time that week, Cormac explained how the new accounting-card system worked. Allardyce senior had retired and his son was implementing new ideas. Dougie was in his late fifties and was struggling with it. The old book-ledgers were out and new trays of cards had replaced them. Charles Hutchinson beckoned to him from his office in the corner.

"You got it now Dougie? I’ve got to go and see Mr. Hutchinson."

"Aye, I think so Cormac. Thanks."

"Come in and shut the door Cormac. Dougie doesn’t understand it at all, does he?"

"He’s struggling a wee bit."

"Don’t try to make it any better. He’s never going to get it, is he?"

"I don’t think so Mr. Hutchinson."

"That’s going to be a problem. If he can’t do the work, what are we going to do with him? He’s been with us for more that thirty years. Old Mr. Allardyce would have known what to do about it, but the new man is much more hard-headed. I’d hate to see him out of a job."

"I know. I’ve been watching him as well. To be honest, we’ve been carrying him for a couple of years now. I’m sure that’s not news to you."

"Aye, I’m not blind Cormac. I should have done something before, but I never knew how. I’m really grateful to the whole department, but I could never say anything; you know ….." He lapsed into silence.

"Can I make a suggestion?"

"Cormac, anything, if it will help."

"It’s not my place, …."

"Open cards; anything you say will not be used as evidence against you." Hutchinson laughed. "Seriously, you’re one of the trusted old hands as it were, so speak your mind."

"Arthur McQueen is getting on for thirty. He got married last year, and the first baby is on the way. He’s a good man, and I think he’s ready to take on more responsibility. If we were to reshuffle the work a bit, you could broaden Arthur’s job and at the same time put Dougie onto the simpler, routine work. Arthur could use any extra money there might be in it, and Dougie would be really relieved to get easier work. I don’t know if you can do the extra pay bit, maybe later, next year or so, ….." It was Cormac’s turn to trail off.

"A re-organisation? I wonder, …. Let me think about it. It might be just what we need, Dougie or no Dougie. With all this new system and everything, maybe we haven’t got the right people in the right places anymore. I bet you I could sell that idea to young Mr. Allardyce and convince him that any extra costs came from all the changes. I’ll think about it. Leave it with me."

Cormac went back to do battle with the new cards. Dougie was not the only struggler.

The following spring, Cormac attended one of many meeting. In his twenty years in the yard, Cormac had never been in the board-room. The mahogany table with its matching twenty-two chairs made a considerable impression on him. Bob Laird, the finance director, Charles Hutchinson, Cormac’s boss and Cormac sat down at the table. Laird introduced Cormac as the new man responsible for the financial dealings with Ayrshire Glass Ltd. He shook hands with Mr. Leslie, head of sales and Eric Marshall, sales representative, responsible for contact with the Eglinton Shipyard. Cormac’s new title was senior book-keeper, goods inward. He was responsible for processing all incoming invoices from suppliers. In the following weeks, he met the representatives of all the yard’s main suppliers. Before, he had no outside contact. Visits from sales reps. were a pleasant break from processing figures.

A few weeks later, Cormac saw a face approaching his desk that he had difficulty putting a name to.

"Morning Cormac. Everything all right?"

"Hello … eh …Eric. Everything’s fine. Is this just a visit or does Ayrshire Glass need me to sort another of their problems out?"

"Just a visit. I need to get out and see the customers regularly, otherwise, my boss thinks I’ve not got enough to do. No, I was in seeing Eddie Lawrence over in purchasing, and thought I’d drop in and say hello. Here, I brought this over from Greg Barclay. It’s an invoice to cover some replacement stuff for breakages."

"That’s new to me. How does that work?"

"It’s to cover stuff that’s got broken in your stores. Happens regularly. At first we used to ask for a new order for the replacements, but it was getting to be too much work. So we made it easier, and now we supply the replacements under the original order. Saves all that paper-work. It works fine and we’re not talking about a lot of money; a couple of pounds here and there."

"Right, I’ll see it gets done."

Later, Cormac walked over to talk to Eddie Lawrence.

"That’s right Cormac. They’re always breaking panes of glass in the stores or out in the yard. We even add two percent to the orders to cover it, but even then, we regularly need more. At first, I was making orders for extra glass every other week or that. So me and Eric’s boss agreed to do it this way. It saves me work. If it’s less than ten pounds, you just sign if off yourself. You don’t need to come to me for a counter signature. More than a tenner, I do want to see it though."

*****

That’s funny, that’s the third one this month. Cormac put the invoice from AGL, (Ayrshire Glass Ltd.), aside. I’ll check that out later.

While drinking his tea that afternoon, he pulled the invoice from the pile and went to the drawers with the customer cards. On the card for AGL, he saw nineteen invoices entered since the first of October the previous year, when the new system started. In that time, there were seven invoices for replacement glass, all for less than ten pounds. Three were in the last five weeks, all for the same order number. He took down the AGL folder from the current creditor section, and found the three invoices. The last two had the bank account number blanked out with x’s from a typewriter and a new number typed in. A later invoice for a regular order had the normal bank account number.

That’s strange, he thought. I’ll send a note to Barclay, querying that.

Cormac pinned the last invoice to the note, and addressed the envelope to Mr. G. Barclay, (Personal).

Four days later the office junior put a letter on Cormac’s desk addressed to Mr. C. Sleanagh, (Personal).

The invoice was pinned to the note.

Hell and damnation. The bugger’s forging invoices and wants me to sign them off. I should never have given in to that bastard. I did it twice and now he knows that I’m afraid of him. If I pay one of these invoices, he’ll really have me by the balls. Up till now, he could only tell Beth about Maisie. If I give in this time, the only way out will be for the pair of us to go to jail.

He did nothing. Two more threatening letters came. Still Cormac did nothing. In July, the annual Kerlaw- Irvine inter-club bowls competition took place. At the social that evening, Barclay joined the table where Cormac sat with Beth and a few friends. There were raised eyebrows at such a hard-line Orangeman sitting at their table, but no-one made any reference to it. Barclay made a point of monopolising Beth with whom he had several dances. Beth, a beautiful dancer, went out of her way to embarrass Barclay’s lack of grace.

"Have you ever been to Helensbugh, Mrs Sleanagh? It’s a lovely place to have a holiday. We go there every year on our ‘doon the watter’ day out with the club. You should try it some time. I’m sure you’d enjoy it."

"Good night Mrs. Sleanagh. Good night Cormac." Barclay tipped his cap to Beth and as he did so, he produced a folded piece of blue paper from his pocket. "Here, if you ever decide to spend a week or two in Helensbugh, there are plenty of nice guest houses to stay at." He handed it to Cormac, saying, "Take it. I’ve got another one at home."

"Good night , Greg. Thanks, if we get the notion, I’ll take your advice."

"What was that all about?" Beth asked on their way out.

"Oh, don’t pay any attention. Since the re-organisation, he’s the man I have to deal with at Ayrshire Glass in Irvine. He hates the idea of having to work with a Catholic. He takes every opportunity to try and make my life difficult."

"What was that all about Helensburgh?"

"I haven’t got the faintest idea."

She took his arm and they walked home.

"You’re shivering," she said.

"Nonsense."

"You are."

"Oh, it’s probably just coming out of the clubhouse. It was awful hot in there with all them people. I thought it was awful close in there."

"It was. I felt it too."

The following Monday there was another letter.

*****

"Right, I’m taking the dog for a walk." Cormac took the lead from the hook in the passage and put on his cap.

" Hang on. I’ll come with you." John put down his tea-cup and followed him to the door. Nell danced around their legs.

"All right, all right, calm yourself. We’re going." Cormac opened the door and the dog ran out ahead of them. They turned right, up towards the Rec.

"That dog’s daft about you. I can’t imagine why. The way you refused to have one for all those years. Now, you’re always taking it for a walk."

"Ach, you get wiser as you get older. And anyway, she was making my life a misery, always on about wanting a dog. The woman just wore me down till I had no resistance any more. Then there was no stopping her. Now we’ve a dog, two cats and a dozen hens. Remember me telling you never to get married? I sometimes wish I’d taken my own advice"

They walked on up the hill.

"Slow down there Aul’-man. You’re marching along here like ten men and a young fella."

"Aye, I suppose you’re right." Cormac slowed to a more sedate pace.

"You’re awful wound up the last wee while. What’s up?"

"With me? Nothing. I’m fine. Maybe a wee bit tired. It’s been busy with all them changes at the work. Haven’t been sleeping too well. I’ll be all right once things settle down again."

"Come on Da. There’s more to it than that. Things have been busy before and you haven’t been like this."

"Like what?"

"Like last night when you were screaming at Thomas, banging your hand on the table, and ended up crying with pure anger. Your face was purple. That’s not the Aul’-man we know. And that wasn’t the only time. You’ve got something on your mind. What’s up?"

"Nothing’s up. I’m just tired."

"You can tell me. I’ll keep anything you say to myself. I’m worried about you. We all are."

"So you’re all worried about me, are you. You’ve all been talking about me behind my back." Belligerence bubbled up. "What’s everybody saying? He’s cracking up; loosing his grip; getting to be a bloody nuisance in his old-age? Eh."

"No, just that you’re not yourself. We’re worried. And we have no clue what’s wrong. We’re wondering if it’s something we’ve done to upset you."

"Nobody’s done anything to upset me. I’m just tired. Now leave me alone."

They walked down the hill to the playing fields. The dog chased the seagulls and came back to be praised.

"Good girl. That showed them." Cormac fondled her ears and she ran off again. Cormac began to pant. It got worse and he began to take deeper and deeper breaths.

"What’s wrong Da? Are you all right?" John, thinking he was having a heart-attack, tried to make him sit down.

"Leave me alone. If I sit down it gets worse. I need to keep moving."

They walked on, and the spasm got less. After a few minutes, his breathing was normal again.

"What was that all about? Have you had that before?"

"I’ve been getting it for weeks now. It comes and goes. I can’t get enough air. I keep taking bigger breaths but it doesn’t help. It seems to make it worse."

"Right. We’re going straight home and I’m going to get Dr. McGrath. That sounds like your heart."

"It’s not my heart. I’ll be all right. Now leave it be."

"You’ll not be all right till you have a bloody heart attack, and where’s that going to leave us all. What about my mother? What’ll she do if you peg out? We’ll have you checked out and there’s years in you yet if you take care of yourself. If you don’t … "

"For God’s sake, leave it be. I am not going to see any doctor. There’s nothing he can do for me. There’s nothing wrong with my bloody heart."

"Then what is wrong with you? If you don’t tell me what’s up, I’m going to see him. I’ll make such a bloody fuss that you’ll have no choice. What am I going to say if you die on us, and I’ve got to tell them I didn’t get you to a doctor after I’ve seen you like this? Eh?"

"I’m not dying. Now I want this so stop here and now."

"Da, it’s not going to stop here and now. It’s bloody well going to start here and now. You can see the doctor willingly or unwillingly. But you’re going to see him, if I’ve got to carry you there in a sack."

"You fucking, stupid, bloody man. Leave me alone. I don’t want to see any fucking doctor. Now leave me alone." Cormac’s voice rose to a shriek and he started to lash at John with the dog’s lead.

John stepped back and watched as his father beat the ground with the lead. After a few minutes, he stopped and sat down and wept; great sobs with mucous streaming from his nose. Shocked, John took the lead from his hand and, kneeling beside him, put his arm round his father’s shoulder.

"All right, Aul’-man. All right. Everything’s all right. Easy now. Easy now."

Cormac’s whole frame was trembling.

John helped him to his feet. "Come on. We’ll go and sit on the bench over there." He led him over to the side of the playing field.

"Now, for God’s sake, will you tell me what’s wrong?"

"I can’t. I can’t tell anybody what’s wrong."

John gave him a handkerchief. "I usually do this for my mother."

Cormac smiled, and wiped the mess off his face.

"Right. You can tell me. At some stage you’re going to have to tell somebody. If it’s that serious, that it’s doing this to you, you’ll have to face up to it sooner or later. It’s not going to go away. Now for Christ’s sake, what the hell is going on?"

"I’m being forced to sign off forged invoices at my work."

"How the hell can anybody force you to sign them off if they’re forged?"

"I’m being blackmailed."

"How in the name of God are you being blackmailed? What in the name of Christ have you done to get blackmailed about? And who the hell’s doing it?"

"That’s what I can’t tell anybody."

"Look, I don’t give two fucks what you’ve done. If you’ve murdered some bugger, then the bastard deserved it. Now, tell me what’s it all about?"

Cormac began to sob again. Great spasms racked him. John sat next to him and watched helplessly.

"Daddy, listen. If there’s anybody in this world you can trust, it’s me. I don’t give a shit what you’ve been up to. You’re my daddy and I’m on your side. Please, trust me. I don’t care how terrible it is. We’ll get it sorted. Please …. "

The dog came and licked his hand. Cormac tousled its ears.

"I’ve got another family in Helensburgh; a woman with two children."

There was a silence. They looked at each other.

"You old goat." John gave vent to a great gust of laughter. "Everybody always gave me a hard time because I was always chasing the women. They all asked where I got it from. And all the time I get it from you."

He took his father in his arms and hugged him. "Ye great daft bugger. I never thought you had it in you."

"What will your mother say?"

"Who the hell’s going to tell my mother? You?"

They walked home, left the dog, and went down to the White Hart.

The whole story came out; Girvan; Maisie; making love by the burn; running away; Paisley; Corrie; prison; Corrie dying; Hurlford; falling in love again; Phillip; Ellen; Helensburgh; Barclay; the blackmail.

"What am I going to do?"

"Right now, you’re going to do nothing. If he was going to do it, - tell my mother that is, he would have done it by now. He’s just putting the pressure on you. If he tells my mother, he’s got nothing left, and then you can tell the police. As long as you don’t sign the invoices off, you’re in a stronger position than him, and he knows it. The longer you let him stew, the stronger you are. He’s only got the one card, and once it’s played, its not worth anything any more. Just sit tight. You’ve got nothing to worry about."

Thunder rumbled and lightning flickered over Arran as they walked home. Is that a good or a bad omen, Cormac wondered.

*****

"Michael, how’s that cousin of yours getting on these days? How’s his arm? I hope it mended all right."

"I’ve been told that he arrived safely and that he’s all right."

"I went out of my way to help him and his friends. I could use a favour in return. Get in touch with them and tell them to contact me."

"They don’t like being asked to return favours, John."

"I didn’t like being asked to put my neck on the line for them Michael. So they owe me one. Tell them to contact me."

The shop was empty. It was Thursday afternoon. The three brothers sat drinking tea in the back-shop. The door opened.

"I’ll go." Mack went to serve the customer.

"Somebody to see you John."

"Afternoon. Can I help you?"

"Put your coat on and walk down to the shore. Keep walking till somebody catches up with you." A Dublin accent came from behind a high scarf and a low-brim.

"I’ve got to go out for a minute. I won’t be long."

"Everything all right?"

"Aye. I’ll be back in half an hour."

John walked towards the shore. As he walked across the level-crossing at the station a voice behind him said, "Don’t turn round. Keep walking till you get to the shore."

On the beach, he turned right towards Seabank.

"Go into the kiosk and sit down."

John chose the furthest corner in the beach shelter known as the kiosk and sat there. After ten minutes, the scarf and brim came and sat next to him.

"What’s your problem?"

"When you had a problem, I didn’t ask any questions my friend. I helped you as an Irishman."

"What do you want?"

"My family is being blackmailed by the Orangemen. I want it stopped."

"How do you expect us to do that?"

"I’m a grocer, not a soldier. Do what you have to do, just get it stopped."

"So you want us to eliminate these people?"

"There’s just the one."

"What’s it all about?"

John explained leaving out the details of his father’s secret.

"Has he got a name and somewhere we can find him?"

John gave all the details he had about Barclay.

"You stay sitting here for another fifteen minutes and then go home." The man left and walked off along the beach towards Seabank. John waited and then went back to the shop.

*****

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