Harry Bingham - The Money Makers

Grossman looked at the younger man.

‘Corporate finance, eh? You’re the sort of fellow we’re always on the lookout for. I’m at Coburg’s, you know. Deputy Chief Executive.’

Zack tried to look surprised.

‘Coburg’s? Really? I’ve always so admired the bank. I was hoping …’

‘Hoping to join, eh? Well, come in for an interview. I’m sure you’ll do well.’ Grossman said, slurring his words. ‘I’m a sharp judge of character, y’know, and I’ve had my eye on you this evening.’ Zack had watched Grossman drink the best part of three bottles of wine at dinner, not to mention sherry before and port after, and had listened to him talk virtually non-stop. What Grossman was like when he didn’t have his eye on someone, Zack couldn’t imagine. ‘Besides,’ added Grossman, ‘that man Bell with the funny name –’

‘Ichabod. Ichabod Bell.’

‘Quite right. Itchy-dog Bell. Fellow told me you were one of his best ever students. I wasn’t surprised. Not a bit. I could tell you had a good head on you. Anyway, come in to Coburg’s for an interview. I’ll tell ’em to look out for you.’

And so he did. When Zack called Coburg’s, the man from personnel said, ‘Ah, yes, Grossman’s friend,’ and scheduled a day of interviews for Zack then and there. The interviews were strange, dream-like affairs. The interviewers went through the motions, but both sides knew that the important thing had already been decided. Two weeks following dinner with Grossman, Zack received an offer of employment. The post paid twenty-seven thousand pounds per annum plus a January bonus. Peanuts, of course. Less than the rent on his flat. But that wasn’t the point.

The point was he’d done it. He’d been admitted. He was a season ticket holder to the City of London, the enchanted forest where money really does grow on trees.

‘D’you know what Josie wants to talk about?’ asked Matthew.

‘Not me,’ said Zack. ‘Probably just wants to escape Mum for the evening. I’d go nuts in that grotty little house with Mum crying away all the time.’

‘Poor Mum. She certainly took the will terribly hard. I should visit her, but I’m working all hours at the moment.’

‘Mmm,’ said Zack, who was in between finishing at his accountancy firm and starting at Coburg’s. Despite his leisure time, he hadn’t called on his ailing mother. A silence began to grow, filled only by the rumble of traffic from Camden High Street. ‘Where’s George, d’you know?’ he said, changing the subject.

‘No, no one knows. Josie left loads of messages at his flat, but he’s either not there or not responding.’

‘I wonder what he’s up to. He’s going to have a bit of a job financing his lifestyle now.’

That was true enough. George’s playboy life had been paid for by huge dollops of cash from their father. No more cash, no more jet-setting.

‘You never know,’ said Matthew. ‘He’s probably persuaded a billionaire friend of his to give him a couple of million to tide him over. He was always good at getting cash out of Dad. Better than us.’

Zack shrugged. ‘I don’t think we need worry. George would get through a million in a matter of months.’

Both men laughed. They weren’t worried about George getting his million. Zack was the cleverest of the brothers, Matthew the most determined. George wasn’t smart and he hated work. Both brothers had always vaguely resented the ease with which George had taken cash from their father, but now it was payback time. Zack knew that Matthew was his only serious rival, and he was Matthew’s. The two men looked at each other warily. They were tense, defensive, nervous.

When the doorbell rang, Zack stood up quickly. ‘That’ll be her now. If you get the door, I’ll get her a drink.’

Matthew opened the door and found a stranger. It was Josephine alright, but as he’d never seen her. She wore a navy blue skirt with a white cotton blouse. A single gold chain was her only jewellery. Her long, dark, naturally curly hair was pulled back and pinned up. A few weeks before, Josephine had been a slim, pretty, lively girl with a passion for dance and parties. Today, she was professional, competent, unobtrusive. For maybe the first time, her mouth was tucked down, not up, at the corners.

‘Jesus Christ, Josie,’ murmured Matthew. ‘So soon?’

‘Yes, I was lucky. I got a last minute place at the Cavendish Secretarial School and I’ve been there a week now. It’s going OK.’

‘And this stuff – from M & S, I suppose?’

‘Yes. I’d never realised how much £500 could buy. I’m all set up now as you see.’

She gave a half-twirl as though to show off a party frock, but her heart wasn’t in it.

‘It’s not right, Josie. It’s not right.’

She looked away, not wanting to let Matthew see her quivering eyes.

‘I haven’t many options, have I? Besides, it’s how most girls my age get by.’

Matthew raised his arm, offering her a cuddle, but she gently pushed it away. She’d cry if he cuddled her and she wasn’t here to cry. Once inside, Josephine took a tumbler of gin and tonic with a sigh of relief. She stretched out her legs on Zack’s gleaming glass coffee table, uncomfortable beneath her brother’s dark unemotional scrutiny.

‘M & S, huh?’

‘That’s right.’

Zack just nodded. Josie saw his eyes pass the information to his brain, which stored the fact as just another item to be memorised and filed. He cut to the chase.

‘Well, Josie, are you going to reveal why you’ve got us together or shall we guess?’

‘I don’t think it should be all that hard to guess,’ she said, keeping her voice steady and reasonable. ‘Mummy’s shocked, she’s depressed. Even after a month, she’s showing no sign of improvement. I think we need to do something.’

‘She needs to get out,’ said Zack. ‘Get a job.’

‘She can’t. She can’t type any more, and secretarial work is all she’ll do.’

‘Oh, come on. We all know she could type if she wanted. She could do anything if she just pulled herself together.’

‘Zack! She’s in a bad way. She’s finding things hard.’

‘What are you suggesting? We take it in turns to sing her lullabies?’

Josie’s temper began to rise despite herself, despite her foreknowledge that Zack would be difficult.

‘I’m saying that she needs help. From all of us. Now.’

Zack snorted and threw himself back in his chair, leaving it to Matthew to ask more gently, ‘What? What did you have in mind?’

‘Mum had relied on the will to make her comfortable. Dad failed her, but we don’t have to. We can all get jobs. I’m hoping to find work as soon as I finish my course. We can all put as much as we can towards a regular income for Mum, maybe club together to get her somewhere decent to live. She’s never liked it where she is now.’

‘She’s perfectly capable of going out to work herself,’ snapped Zack.

‘How would you know? When did you last see her?’

Matthew once again sought to make peace.

‘Have you thought about taking her to the doctor’s? Trying her out on antidepressants? She probably just needs snapping out of it.’

‘I have taken her to the doctor’s, yes,’ said Josie, still taut. ‘He spent three minutes with her, then wrote out a prescription for Prozac, which stopped her from getting to sleep, then gave her nightmares. If you want her to see another doctor, then it’s a private specialist she needs, paid for by us.’

Matthew lapsed into silence. He didn’t like the thought of leaving his mum without help, but he didn’t like the idea of offering his money before Zack had offered any of his. Zack lay slumped in his chair, swilling his whisky round his tumbler, then sat forward, alert again.