Wearing Purple

Chapter 35

There was much that I had to ask my dad; much that I would ask him in time, about his thoughts, and his experiences, after my mother’s death. However we both knew it was too soon. So, after I had spent the weekend following the funeral answering as many letters of sympathy as I could, and after my brave sister had spent a day in Glasgow packing clothes and cosmetics — I’ve never asked her what she did with them — and taking them away in Jan’s Fiesta, which Mary had agreed with me she should have, I went back to my high tower flat to pick up my life.

My first call was to Greg McPhillips, to check what work was awaiting me. There was plenty, but there were other things too; personal things that he had undertaken to handle for me. Jan hadn’t left a will — Hell’s teeth, she was only thirty — but her insurance policies were either joint life or in my name, and all our accounts, other than our separate business accounts, were joint. Claim forms had to be signed, mortgage lenders to be advised, bank details to be changed, but none of it would be a problem. I told Greg that I would take care of all that the next time I was in his office, which would certainly be within the next two days, as a result of some of the work he had given me.

‘Fine,’ he said, ‘but there’s something else. I sort of assumed an instruction from you last week. I got the name of the manufacturers of your washing machine, plus its serial number, from the police. It’s a German company.

‘I wrote to them, on your behalf. I advised them of the accident and said that as your solicitor I would await their observations. I had a letter in Friday’s mail from their UK office. They said as the machine was well out of guarantee they had no liability or obligation in the matter. However in the circumstances, they are prepared to offer you a replacement as a gesture of goodwill.

‘What d’you think of that?’

By now, you know I’m naive in certain respects. Although I’d shielded myself behind my anger in the period after the accident, it had never turned itself in the direction of the company which had made the lethal machine. That changed in an instant. Within me I could hear Jan’s voice, and when I spoke, it was for us both.

‘I think you should decline their offer,’ I told my friend, coldly and evenly, in that tone which I hadn’t owned ten days before. ‘I think also that you should advise them that we will be obtaining a copy of the police report on the machine, and that if it shows that my wife’s death was caused by a fault in its manufacture, then we will pursue every remedy open to us, both civil and criminal, in Scotland and in Germany.

‘How does that sound?’ I asked him.

‘It sounds like something a real hard-arsed lawyer like me would say. I’ve already asked the Fiscal’s office for a copy of the police report. I’ll let you know as soon as I get it. My guess is that the Germans will want to examine the machine themselves to confirm what the police say, but that very soon they’ll make you an offer of compensation.’

‘How much?’ As soon as the words were out, I was swamped by a wave of guilt for asking the question. Jan’s death couldn’t be quantified in financial terms. ‘No, forget that. I don’t want their fucking money. I just want them to agree to withdraw every single machine of that type.’

‘They’ll do that anyway,’ Greg forecast. ‘Take their cash,’ he urged. ‘Give it to your nephews if you like, but take it. If they’re culpable, they should pay.’

‘Aye, I suppose you’re right. Let’s just wait for the report.’

After I finished my call to Greg, I phoned a few other contacts, to let them know I was back in business. They all seemed glad to hear from me, and they all had work. I began to wonder whether there was a conspiracy among my business friends to keep me occupied. I spent another hour at my desk planning a work schedule, then arranged two interviews for that afternoon.

When I had no other options, I was finally forced to turn to the task I had been dreading. I moved round to the other side of the partners’ desk, and sat in Jan’s chair. I had gathered all her mail together; now I began to open it. There were two cheques from clients, and a couple of letters from the Inland Revenue, but most of the envelopes contained the usual junk; the stuff that annoys recipients but makes serious money for the Royal Mail.

Jan’s filing system was simple and efficient. The papers relating to each of her clients were all kept together in sequence. I filed the material in her out and pending trays, then switched on her computer, and found her directory. That was neat too, with her clients listed as such, with address, phone, fax and e-mail numbers and name of principal contact in each one.

I phoned them, one by one and told them formally what they knew already. They were all upset, and two of them even offered to pay me a termination bonus. I declined, but said that if they wanted to make a donation to their favourite charity in Jan’s memory, that would be okay with me. Once I had finished, I boxed each client’s papers, wrapped them securely and called a delivery service to return them all.

The only exception was The Gantry Group. Jan’s relationship with her newest client had been of such a short duration that she had not had time to develop a file, or amass papers. I called Susie anyway, at her office. I had seen her at the funeral, and afterwards, with her father and Dylan, at our reception in the church hall, but she had been too upset to say much.

She was still solemn when I spoke to her that morning; she mentioned money too. ‘Jan did a lot for us, Oz. I’ll work out the time she spent here and send you a cheque.’ I gave her the same answer I had given the others. When she protested, I told her, ‘Look Susie, that work is all abortive now. You’ll have to get someone else to start again. Any idea who?’ I asked.

She treated me to a flicker of her laugh. ‘I’ve been worn down on that one, I’m afraid, Oz. I’m going to have to take old Uncle Joseph back. Dad said we couldn’t afford to go back to scratch again, so we’d have to make do with the Devil we know.

‘Actually, from the work that Jan did, I may have been wronging the old bugger after all.’ That didn’t square with what my wife had told me before I left for Spain, but I supposed that she must have come to that conclusion later.

Susie invited me to dinner on the following Thursday. For a moment I wasn’t going to accept, until I realised that it would mean one less evening that week in the flat, on my own. So I thanked her, and accepted.

In the silence that remained I sat at our desk, looking at the only substantial block of Jan’s files that were left; the only client I hadn’t terminated. They were my papers: invoices, receipts, tax returns, Revenue correspondence and all the other things which my wife and business manager had done for me. For the first time, I began to wonder how I was going to manage myself.

I was still brooding on this as I made my solitary lunch, and also thinking irrationally about adopting a cat, when the phone rang. It was Everett. ‘Hello man,’ the brown voice rumbled. ‘You hanging in there?’

‘What choice do I have?’ I asked him.

‘None, my friend. You do it for her.’ He paused then jumped straight to the point. ‘Oz, Liam Matthews is just insufferable as a ring announcer. When you comin’ back?’

I was astounded. ‘I didn’t think you’d need me back. With Leonard in the frame as your saboteur, my job’s done, isn’t it?’

‘It looks like that job’s done, sure, and by the way, I owe you your bonus, but that doesn’t obscure the fact that you’re a damn good ring announcer. And I need one. Thousand sterling a weekend, Friday evening through Sunday, plus your VAT, plus expenses.

‘Amsterdam this weekend, then Manchester, then the Wednesday after that it’s the live pay-per-view event in Edinburgh. We got heavy subscription for that already. I need you Oz, my friend. Diane needs you. Our partner Jerry, he needs you. Don’t let us down now.’

I laughed. I laughed for the first time in nine days. ‘Who am I to reject all that need,’ I said. ‘I’ll do it. It’s what Jan would want. What time’s the plane on Friday?’