Thank you to Jonathan Dodd for this latest short story. He writes a lot of them, so we might see more coming this way. soon. Ed
Martin Bangor had never been much to write home about, as everybody had been telling him throughout his uneventful life. He would never be much of a catch either, and nobody had ever described him as the life and soul of the party. Martin wasn’t the sort of person who ever got himself invited to parties. He just lived a solitary life in his flat with his cat Jasper, a slow-witted and lazy animal who completely ignored Martin, as cats do, unless he wanted some food. It was because of Jasper that Martin had bought his ground-floor flat, and had a cat flap installed. There wasn’t anyone else to please in Martin’s life.
Every morning Martin would walk to his desk in the accounts department of Summers, the department store in his home town. He’d landed the job straight out of school because he was quiet and steady and had a head for figures. His more garrulous classmates who didn’t qualify for the heady heights of Further Education were swept into Sales or Buying, where they would either stay long enough to do the conventional thing – marriage, mortgage, children and divorce – not necessarily in that order, or they would move away to more exciting jobs. The less gifted or sociable school-leavers were ushered round to the tradesmen’s entrance to start their working life in the canteen or the stores. Martin fell – as in everything else in life – right into the middle.
So successful had Martin been that after twenty years he was the only one of his year at school left at Summers. He had watched employees arrive and leave every year like the tide, and he felt lucky that Summers was a staunchly old-fashioned sort of place that still had its oak panelling in the Menswear department and felt like a rabbit warren with floors at different levels throughout. He knew its history better than anyone by now and could have described in great detail the acquisition of next-door buildings and the addition of new extensions over the years, if anyone had asked him such a thing. He had a quiet affection for the place equalled only by his devotion to Jasper. It had remained in the hands of the Summers family since it was founded, and its motto was proudly displayed over the main doors – ‘YOUR FAMILY STORE SINCE 1894!’ Up in the attic where Accounts lived, this comforted Martin and insulated him from all the frightening changes that seemed to wash against the doors like an angry sea.
After work Martin would retrace his steps along the road to his flat, pausing only to buy the evening paper at the newsagents and a packet of Polos. He didn’t need a car because he ate at the staff canteen every day, and it was no bother to carry a couple of bags home from the supermarket every week. He would open the door and call to Jasper, who would be fast asleep somewhere, completely ignoring him, then he would take off his coat and stare into the mirror for a moment or two. He could see what everybody else saw, a middle-aged man with thinning hair, the beginnings of a paunch and glasses that didn’t quite fit. Nothing about him would have attracted a second glance. Only he could see that his eyes were focused somewhere far away in the distance.
Martin’s evening would be quiet and solitary. He would eat a snack, feed Jasper, read his paper and watch some television. News and documentaries, of course. Then he would take his library book to bed and go to sleep early. He would sleep the sound sleep of the untroubled mind. There would be no phone calls and the only mail would be utility bills and circulars. Martin’s parents had both died in a fire at their house a few years after he started to work at Summers. He had been an only child and something of an accident, because his parents were both in their forties when they had him. They had never quite recovered from the shock, and tried to refer to the whole thing as rarely as possible, which was fine by Martin. He used to listen to the stories of the home lives of his schoolmates with horror, although he learned how to listen without appearing to after being taunted and hit a few times.
And then one day the inevitable happened. Change arrived at Summers with a great crash. The aptly named Senior Partner – Old Mr Summer – fell out of his wheelchair at a Polo match after one too many canapés. Summers closed for an official day of mourning and the managers conducted a series of meetings intended to reassure the staff but having the opposite effect. Rumours were rife and ranged from an imminent buy-out by a national chain to the whole building being flattened to make way for a multi-storey car park and a gym. Everyone started to look at the Jobs pages in the local papers.
In the midst of all this Martin’s behaviour didn’t appear to change. More than once the younger members of the department would cast worried glances his way and speculate that he would be first to go as soon as they were bought out. Staff attendance and smartness suddenly increased in an effort to be noticed, just in case there were job losses. But Martin just carried on as usual.
After a few weeks it was announced that the remaining family members – ‘after much soul searching’ – had decided that they were looking for a buyer. The rumour mill went into overdrive, everyone began meeting in corners and muttering together and the atmosphere in Summers became edgy and brittle. Members of staff sometimes had to be reminded gently that they needed to be more relaxed with recalcitrant customers, and occasionally someone would flee the public areas for a little cry in the restrooms. But otherwise, as the posters proclaimed, it was ‘BUSINESS AS USUAL!’
The local papers enjoyed stoking the rumours as the tortuous negotiations took place. The names of several possible buyers were dropped into the public arena, imaginary plans were drawn up and commented on for all the possible and impossible schemes dreamed up about the future of Summers. There was a lot of speculation about the family and their finances, as well as keen interest in the store’s profitability – or otherwise. Business, of course, boomed. Summers had never advertised – it would be a bit like advertising the Royals – but of course the value of press speculation was understood very well. And all the time the Directors came and went with their faces wiped of tell-tale emotions, and they responded to interviews with carefully meaningless phrases.
At last there was an understanding that one potential buyer was ahead of the field, that negotiations were well advanced, and that there would be an announcement – ‘SOON!’ In the magical way of buying and selling so different to the business inside the department store where the price of everything was printed on the label, it was understood that a deal had been struck and that at last people would know their futures. The board of Summers took an unprecedented step. They bought a full-page advertisement in the local papers and slots on the local radio stations. Summers was to be closed to the public for an extraordinary meeting the next Monday morning. All the staff were to arrive at work as usual, the future plans for Summers would be announced, and then the store would open on Monday afternoon, with a ‘SPECIAL CLEARANCE SALE!’ None of the directors could be forced or cajoled to reveal the identity of the ‘MYSTERY BUYER’. They all asserted that they didn’t know themselves, but nobody believed them.
The few days before the announcement were frantic in Summers. The store was made ready for the sale. Some lines of merchandise were to be discontinued, some departments rationalised and a certain amount of refurbishing was done at night. But nothing major was changed. And not a word was said to any of the staff about what they were to expect in the future. It was unbearably tense and exciting, all at the same time.
On the great day itself there were queues right up the High Street before 9 o’clock even though the store wouldn’t open its doors until 1 o’clock sharp. Nobody could see inside because the windows had been lined with paper. The crowds lined up in good humour and suppressed excitement. The town hadn’t experienced anything like it since the Royal visit back in Jubilee Year.
Inside the store the canteen chairs had been arranged in rows in front of a long table. Every single member of staff was well and at work that day in an unprecedented turn-out, all jammed in there waiting for the announcement. Martin found a seat at the back. At 9 o’clock precisely the Directors filed in and sat down. Mr Jensen, the head of Marketing, stood and gestured for silence, which was completely unnecessary in the circumstances. ‘Good Morning,’ he said, addressing them all over his reading glasses in his rich public-school tones. ‘I’m glad to see that everyone is here. I have an announcement to make to you all from our new owner. I’ve been instructed to inform you beforehand that there’s no bad news in this for any of you.’ And he smiled as he gestured at the piece of paper in his hand. ‘It’s quite short. I shall read it now, then answer any questions, as far as I can. After that, you will have time to yourselves while the canteen staff prepare food for us all. Then we open the doors for the Sale at 1 o’clock precisely.’ He then pushed his reading glasses up fully on his nose, cleared his throat, straightened the paper, and began to read.
‘I, David Jensen, the Marketing Director of Summers, am to announce this statement to the staff of Summers this morning. I am then to give copies of the same announcement to the media. The Summers family has sold the business to a new owner. The identity of the new owner has been kept secret, and will remain so. The new owner has instructed the firm of Marsden and Diamond, Solicitors, to pass on all decisions regarding the running of the business to the Directors, who will continue to run Summers as it has been run successfully for so many decades. The new owner wishes it to be known to all staff that there will be no major changes. Nobody will lose their job as a result of this change of ownership. This, of course, does not mean that anyone is immune from dismissal for the usual reasons.‘
Here he looked up and scanned the room with a smile on his face. ‘I’m sure Mr Jackson, Head of HR, will be pleased to hear that!’ He nodded at Jackson, who beamed back, and then continued.
‘The new owner has taken a keen interest in the business and will continue to do so. The new owner wishes to reassure you that things will remain essentially the same. Any changes will be in the detail. You may already have noticed that some lines have been discontinued. This is because they do not make a profit. They will be replaced with other merchandise. Every item in the sale has been in the storerooms for an unacceptable time. The sale of the business has been scrutinised by reputable accountants and all aspects of it are within the public domain, except the identity of the new owner. Please continue to give your loyalty to Summers, and Summers will not let you down.’
There was a long silence after Mr Jensen finished reading, and then lots of questions that all boiled down to variations of two. ‘Will I keep my job?’ and ‘Who is the new owner?’ Mr Jensen found many ways of patiently restating the announcement without adding any more information. After several minutes the questions tailed off and Mr Jensen closed the meeting. ‘You will be paid as normal for this morning, lunch will be served as usual, and then the Sale will begin. I believe we’re going to be very busy in the next few days. Thank you all for your time.’ Then the Directors filed out.
People drifted off in groups, talking excitedly, until only one person was left, sitting on his own at the back, a dreamy smile on his face. Martin was more relieved than he would have admitted, if he had had anyone to admit anything to, of course. It had been a nerve-racking time, but he would be able to stay in his job, checking the columns of figures at his desk up in the roof. He would still know everything that was going on in the store and his life would continue as before. Thank goodness. And Summers would make even more profit now, because there would be no need for him to skim off those small amounts from those columns any more. His inheritance and the generous insurance policies had been a good start, but he had needed much more money to invest and build up over the years, and he had been terrified that the old man might have died before he was ready.
Martin Bangor put on his coat at the end of a long and exciting day. He walked home, bought the local paper, and called to Jasper, as usual, who ignored him, as usual. He sat down , opened the paper, and allowed himself a small smile as he read the wild speculation as to the identity of the ‘MYSTERY BUYER’. I must tell the solicitors to give Jensen a raise, he thought later, as he drifted off to sleep.
Image: Claudio Schwarz | @purzlbaum under CC BY 2.0
