‘Do we still employ Stan Tancock, Miss Potts?’ Hugo asked as he marched back into the office.
‘Yes, Sir Hugo,’ replied his secretary, following him into the room. ‘He works as a loader in the stock yard.’
‘I want to see him immediately,’ said the chairman, as he slumped down behind his desk.
Miss Potts hurried out of the room.
Hugo stared at the files piled on his desk which he was supposed to have read before the next board meeting. He flicked open the cover of the top one: a list of the union’s demands following their last meeting with management. He had reached number four on the list, two weeks’ paid holiday each year, when there was a tap on the door.
‘Tancock to see you, chairman.’
‘Thank you, Miss Potts. Send him in.’
Stan Tancock walked into the room, removed his cloth cap and stood in front of the chairman’s desk.
‘You wanted to see me, guv?’ he said, looking a little nervous.
Hugo glanced up at the squat, unshaven docker, whose beer belly didn’t leave much doubt where most of his wage packet went on a Friday night.
‘I’ve got a job for you, Tancock.’
‘Yes, guv,’ said Stan looking more hopeful.
‘It concerns your sister, Maisie Clifton, and the plot of land she owns on Broad Street, where Tilly’s tea shop used to stand. Do you know anything about it?’
‘Yes, guv, some geezer offered her two hundred quid for it.’
‘Is that right?’ said Hugo, removing his wallet from an inside pocket. He extracted a crisp five-pound note and laid it on the desk. Hugo remembered the same licking of the lips and the same piggy eyes the last time he’d bribed the man. ‘I want you to make sure, Tancock, that your sister accepts the offer, without the suggestion that I’m in any way involved.’
He slid the five-pound note across the desk.
‘No problem,’ said Stan, no longer looking at the chairman, only at the five-pound note.
‘There will be another of those,’ Hugo said, tapping his wallet, ‘the day she signs the contract.’
‘Consider it done, guv.’
Hugo added casually, ‘I was sorry to hear about your nephew.’
‘Don’t make much odds to me,’ said Stan. ‘Got far too big for his boots, in my opinion.’
‘Buried at sea, I was told.’
‘Yeah, more’n two years back.’
‘How did you find out?’
‘Ship’s doctor came to visit me sister, didn’t he.’
‘And was he able to confirm that young Clifton was buried at sea?’
‘Sure did. Even brought a letter from some mate who was on board the ship when Harry died.’
‘A letter?’ said Hugo leaning forward. ‘What did this letter say?’
‘No idea, guv. Maisie never opened it.’
‘So what did she do with the letter?’
‘Still on the mantelpiece isn’t it?’
Hugo extracted another five-pound note.
‘I’d like to see that letter.’