A Servant of the Company (21 page)

‘Once you get to Spain, check it out. Ask yourself, is this the place for me? I know you will say yes and then settle down to a good life.’ Steve had now had enough of Bugs, he was after all a survivor of an obnoxious group of people and had no doubt been responsible for a lot of misery during his membership. Now he was on his own, Steve having given him sound advice about getting to Spain. Carefully folding the list, he put it into his pocket and slapping Bugs on the shoulder said, ‘Now if you’re not quick you are going to miss your breakfast. Do as I say and you’ll enjoy Spain.’ Walking away, Steve was pleased with the results of his labours. Bugs had disappeared into the hostel, hungry for breakfast but in a state of confusion. He would be disappointed, breakfast had finished ten minutes earlier.

Now Steve’s work could begin. He had to trace and observe each of the individuals on the list, assess them and then recruit his Supervisors. It would not be easy as the area was shrouded in suspicion after the bombing. Those previously involved in the drugs trade would be keeping their heads down, just in case. If he could dig one out, the others would soon follow but he must keep a continuous look over his shoulder, just in case. So back to Grimshawland where everything had happened, and eventually would again happen.

From his experience the areas to check were strongly advertised, the walls being covered in graffiti and the ground decorated with broken glass. He thought of his old regiment currently serving in Afghanistan, they must be facing similar scenes of semi devastation. As he scanned the gable end wall for signs of gang allegiances it dawned on him that this was the first time he had thought of the Army for several weeks.

‘Back to business Henderson.’ It was a self delivered instruction and he quickly wiped away thoughts of the Army from his memory. There was nothing which indicated an organised gang system, just the usual scrawled names, youth demanding a place in the street corner society.

It was only ten thirty, far too early for his targets to be out of bed unless he struck lucky and caught one his way home from the night before. It would be easier and more effective getting into conversation with one person rather than with a group of loud undisciplined youths who might find his presence in their area some sort of violation. Within the streets given as his area of responsibility, Steve set off in his search for a giver of information deciding to walk slowly up and down the streets which lay parallel to each other making sure he didn’t cover the same street twice. He had turned into the third street when he heard a commotion. A tall overweight man dressed in blue and white pyjama bottoms and a short sleeved off white vest was waving his much tattooed arm at a gangling youth. The response was a string of verbal abuse delivered from a safe distance. The man disappeared into the house and the door slammed shut behind him. The youth trudged aimlessly towards Steve.

‘My target,’ he said to himself as he slowed his pace even more. ‘You alright mate? That was enough to give you ear ache. What was that all about?’ He grinned at the youth. ‘In bother with the old man, yeah!’ The youth paused to sum up the stranger who was now directly in front of him.

‘Yeah! The old bastard’s still half pissed from last night. I’d just drunk his last can of lager when he came down stairs looking for it. I’ll keep out of the way until he goes back to the pub in a couple of hours.’ His upper body swayed in agreement with his statement. ‘The toast will be burned black by now so it’s breakfast in the caff for me.’ He was totally unconcerned about his father’s anger because it would be forgotten once he had topped up his alcohol requirement in the pub. His mother might not fare so well.

‘Well you’re in luck for company, because that’s just what I need, a full English breakfast, mind if I join you?’ He stepped aside as the youth started towards the caff, and they set off side by side.

‘Haven’t seen you round here before. Visiting are you?’ Before entering the Greasy Spoon he had to know more about this one. The interest which would become a pattern over the next few weeks would bring all sorts of people into the area, some of them looking for trouble, and he always tried to avoid that.

‘The name’s Chris.’ Steve assumed the first name that came into his head. ‘How about you?’ He held his hand out towards his new friend.

He responded, shaking hands. ‘Everyone calls me Sherlock, that’s because my name’s Holmes. My real name’s Fred, after the old man but I prefer Sherlock.’

‘Bingo,’ Steve said to himself. ‘Number two on Bugsy’s list.’

The breakfast was excellent if not very healthy and Steve would make it his one and only meal for the day, apart from some fruit.

‘This is on me Sherlock, I’ve enjoyed your company. How about walking it off and then you’ll be ready for the next one.’ Now his target was well fed and relaxed he was ready to make his approach. The lad was likeable and reasonably intelligent with a ready sense of humour and Steve had already learned he was not a drug user. With training, this was the sort of person he was supposed to recruit as a Supervisor. If he could hang on to him for a couple of hours, the bulk of the initial work would be completed.

‘O.K. by me, nothing happening round here. It’s gone dead since the bombing.’ Sherlock roared with laughter at his own joke. Steve joined in, and they wandered off like long lost pals.

Carol stretched out on the sofa and gazed over the Manchester skyline. She was pleased that the Company had agreed to pay the rent for the first six months. Clive Andrews had assured her that she would be earning a lot of money by then and would have to pay the rent herself after that. So far she had set up the company office, opened a company bank account and was ready to start recruitment. Her briefing notes were excellent and there had been no reason to contact Clive in the previous two weeks. Nor had he contacted her until today. Four foreign girls would report to her in two weeks time. One French, two Czechs and a Romanian. All were bilingual and products of their home Universities. Carol’s job would be to give them a thorough training in the Company’s aims and operating systems. The Company had acquired a furnished house where the girls would live. Carol had been instructed to inspect it on a regular basis to ensure that the girls hadn’t, as Clive had put it, ‘branched out on their own.’ The advert for local girls had been in the better newspapers available locally, and sitting on her coffee table was a pile of applications. A quick count had indicated a total of two hundred and thirty-four letters and it was Carol’s aim this evening to sort out those indicating potential. Tomorrow replies would be sent and interviews arranged. She was enjoying the job and the responsibility immensely, her organising skills and personality making each day a pleasurable challenge.

Some of the applications were from girls currently employed in local saunas, she felt sorry for them but they were immediately relegated to the regret pile as was the one whose education was at a ‘Comprehensible.’ At the end of the evening there were three piles of letters, 6 probables, 23 possibles and a large pile of regrets.

‘How many people had put my applications on the regret pile before I got this job?’ Carol asked herself as she read each letter. There were single mothers anxious to return to work but unable to afford day time care for their children. In the evenings their mothers would take over that responsibility. One was very honest, saying that she hoped to find a husband with a good income. The weeding out was relatively easy and she had no doubt that some of her regret pile applicants had applied for every job appearing in the paper, from cleaner to brain surgeon. Putting each pile into its own folder she paused before touching the regrets. ‘Hopefully you will find the job which will give you a good income and satisfaction.’ It was not something she liked doing but it had to be done. This business was going to succeed and she was not going to lower the standards which she had set herself. She may not be in Manchester for long, but while she was, she would do a good job.

Next she picked up the envelope from the Company which had been delivered with the morning’s post. In it were copies of adverts which were being placed in Airline magazines and other periodicals. Carol was impressed, the copy was very upmarket and she could imagine the client base who would be attracted to it.

‘Clive’s absolutely right,’ she told herself. ‘If I was a man I’d be ringing myself up a.s.a.p.’ She laughed at the thought. ‘This is going to be interesting, what would the clients expect?’ Knowing men, there was only one answer, but that was not what this company was about, or so she believed. To begin with she would be the link between the client and the girls, and she would make sure that both parties were fully aware of the rules. She would never see the clients, they would telephone in normal business hours. Once the business was going, she would employ someone to cover the telephone until ten p.m. The planning by the Company had been excellent. All Carol had to do was check the instructions Clive had initially sent her, and answers to all the questions she could raise were there in black and white. Even when she finally left the Company, Carol intended to take a copy with her, it was a masterpiece of business planning and organisation and would be a great help with whatever she did in her next job.

The office was small and had an air of business efficiency about it.  Unlocking the door at eight o’clock she was determined to have all the replies completed and posted by lunchtime.

‘Thank the Lord for computers,’ she announced to no-one in particular. The job of answering two hundred and thirty-four letters was a fairly simple exercise now they were sorted. Once each was sealed in its own addressed envelope she smiled to herself. ‘Life is getting easier by the minute. I don’t even have to lick the stamps.’

Her instructions were to hire a conference room in a four star hotel to use for the Induction Training she had to give all starters. Thinking ahead to the four already recruited, she would give them three days to settle into their accommodation, and hold the first course on the Thursday evening. In the meantime she would prepare herself to deliver an easily understood guide to the job of self employed public relations hostess.

The list of requirements was small, a flip chart, a small notebook and pencil for each girl and an overhead projector. If any of the girls had any doubts, the adverts would surely erase them. They were aimed not only at individuals but at corporate level, the image presented to the client was a team of beautiful, educated girls from around the world, on hand to help fulfil company ambitions. To the girls it was an introduction to the highlife of cocktail parties and corporate entertainment. There would from time to time be requests for a partner from individual visitors to the city, but on such occasions the company had strict rules to safeguard the individual hostess. Once Carol had been through her completed training plan, she did a quick check with the Company instructions and was pleased to see that she had remembered everything.

In the mail there had been a congratulatory letter from her bank manager on the appointment in Manchester and wishing her well for the future. ‘He must have put his job on the line for me,’ thought Carol. When she had met him he had appeared awfully young but had given her support when she needed it even if there had been a time limit. Her financial position then had been desperate with no obvious way out. He had only once asked about the results from her job applications and had quickly judged that it was a sensitive area to pursue. It was not raised again and Carol had been silently thankful. Since the last meeting she had been so busy that she had almost forgotten the money paid into her account. With the allowances she received, most of it remained in the bank and had already made inroads on the debit balance. Paying Tax and National Insurance had been arranged, but even with these subtracted she considered herself well on the way to being solvent again.

She prepared a file for each girl detailing her education, languages, specialist knowledge and interests. The files would be used to match the girl to the client and would present a professional image to the client who would hopefully come back for more and maybe recommend the company to others. The hourly rates for the girls were high, but the quality of the girls would enhance the evening and clients would be getting a service of the highest order. It could spell future success for the companies involved or enhancement for individuals. There would be no losers in this business.

Once the basic preparation was done, she would have to wait to interview each girl before obtaining all the information she needed. Now everything was ready, as far as it could be. The interview days and times had been sent to the girls she considered possible, all she needed was confirmation that they were available.

It had been a good week, everything was under control and now it was Friday and time for a pleasant drive back to her real home, collect the mail and give the rooms a once over with duster and vacuum cleaner. Picking up her case for the weekend, she locked the office door and headed for her car and the drive south. It would be good to check out that everything was safe and secure at the flat and that there was no evidence of a visit from Hugo. It wasn’t until she locked up the office that the memory of him had returned. With a slight shudder she tried to erase him from her mind and transferred her thoughts to the coming week and the challenges she would enjoy.

The foreign contingent was safely settled in the rented house, the local probables and possibles had been interviewed and a final selection made. Carol now had a self employed team of sixteen very attractive and intelligent girls aged between twenty-two and thirty-seven. The induction training had gone extremely well with lots of laughter and high spirits. She had chosen them well, they had bonded very quickly and were keen to be allocated to the Company’s clients. Two or three were definitely husband hunting but this did not concern her, in fact it would be a good advert for the future if they were successful. A few had indicated that if the right man came along they might not want to fight him off, but it had all been said in fun.

It wasn’t long before the advertising paid off and the office telephone started to ring with enquiries about the service. As she expected, there were a number looking for sexual pleasures of diverse content and her response had been totally professional advising the ‘pervs’ as she called them that they had the wrong number. To add a little humiliation, she added that the service her Company offered was for intelligent upmarket clients more interested in the girls’ minds than their bodies. It did not take long before companies were soon requesting the P.R. service which was offered. Carol had contacted a number of newspapers with a well prepared press release hoping that at least one would give her some free publicity. It had worked and she was delighted to receive calls from two other national daily papers also wanting information. Advising Clive of her success, he had seemed concerned and questioned her on the level of information given out. She had been confident in her response that the Company guidelines on confidentiality were adhered to. Clive had accepted the answer but asked her to contact him should there be any more requests for information. The company would decide if or anything would be given out. It was a disappointed Carol who sat down after the conversation, she had hoped that there would have been some praise following her initiative. But Clive had left her with the impression that he was not at all pleased and this left her unsettled. The continuous telephone calls had soon taken her mind away from Clive’s apparent disapproval, and bookings were made for numerous business functions where those of her staff with linguistic skills would soon be busily employed. As each girl completed her job allocation, she would report to Carol so that lessons could be learned from the feedback. There were some incidents where clients had been overly familiar with the girls but they had managed the situation without having to call for help. Recognising potential problems before they occurred had been a key issue in Carol’s training package and it had paid off so far. She had told Clive about the demands made on some of the girls and was pleased when he asked her to tender his apologies to them and make a record of the individual client concerned. When the next booking was made by that client, she was to advise of the problems which the girls had experienced, and suggest they advise their employees of the professionalism of her P.R. Company.

All bookings were paid for in advance, the takings being lodged daily into the Company account. Cash was withdrawn from the account to pay the girls’ fees, and to maintain a cash float to cover sundry items. Her own income was paid directly into her account by the Company. It did not take her long to realise that the business was doing very well. Although it was someone else’s idea and initial capital, her efforts had made it succeed.

There had been a request accompanied by a blank cheque from a company who wanted a hostess for four hours. From the information received, the client was Mr. Steven Henderson, a 26 year old high flier, the booking was a reward for his progress with the client company. The female guest at his dinner table should be the same age or younger and have a good sense of humour. To help the Agency match the right girl to Steve Henderson, a few details were given including his Open University course.

It took Carol all of ten seconds to decide that Amanda should take this appointment. She was twenty-four, very lively with an excellent sense of humour. Being a single mother with a two year old daughter, she needed the money and fortunately her own mother was willing to babysit whenever Amanda had to work. The job paid extremely well, suited her personality and allowed her to be with her daughter during the day. The Lowry Hotel would not be new to her as she and three other girls had been at a large company function the previous week.

The telephone call was answered immediately and Carol heard Amanda’s cheery hello. ‘Hello Amanda, it’s Carol. Job for you on the 23
rd
. Is that alright for you?’ Whenever she spoke to Amanda, the voice with a slight Mancunian accent brought her personality to life and Carol always recognised that this was one of her star girls. Her language skills were nil, and she had dropped out of University when she became pregnant, but after the birth, had enrolled on an Open University course. She was well read and could converse intelligently with anyone, but her true worth was her personality.

‘You’ll be pleased to hear it’s at the Lowry again but this time on your own and you’ll never guess what.’ She heard the infectious laughter at the other end of the phone.

‘Not Prince William is it? I’m not well up on polo. Apart from the white ones with a hole in the middle.’

‘Wrong this time Amanda, but you never know what’s around the corner. This time it’s a young exec getting a boost from his company for being a good boy. Right up your street, he’s doing an O.U. course so while you’re enjoying a good meal you can trade academic knowledge. I’m not sure of the subjects he’s doing but he is supposed to be bright so it should be a pleasant evening for you. You’re booked for four hours from seven thirty p.m. Is your mum O.K. for that?’

‘That’s fine Carol. He sounds interesting and I will certainly enjoy the meal. Thank goodness I don’t put on weight, makes the job so much more satisfying.’

‘Good. Now his name is Steven Henderson. Just ask for him at reception. This is your first time on a one to one isn’t it? Well just a reminder as we haven’t dealt with this company before, I’ll play mum and give you the ground rules again. Don’t leave the hotel with anyone other than the taxi driver taking you home and don’t accept invitations to a nightcap in his room. I know that you are aware of these things but I want to look after all of you girls and make sure you’re never at risk, ever. I’m sure you will have a very nice time and that Mr. Henderson is a perfect gentleman, but we’ve both met the other type haven’t we?’ It didn’t make Carol feel uncomfortable giving her little speech, she considered it sensible to issue reminders from time to time. The last thing she wanted was one of the girls getting into an undesirable situation.

‘O.K. mum, I remember your instructions from the induction course and promise to obey. When I’m tucked up in bed it will be on my own. I promise to behave like a well brought up young lady and enjoy Mr. Henderson’s company for all the right reasons. And he’d better enjoy my company too, or I’ll have something to say.’ Once again her laughter was infectious for Carol.

‘Thanks Amanda, now tell me the date, time and hotel and the client’s name so that I know you will go to the right place on the right day.’ It was said in fun, but Carol had to be certain that the appointment would be kept as requested. The answers came quickly and correctly.

The diary was getting filled up rapidly and if she didn’t recruit more girls soon business would be lost and she couldn’t let that happen. The lack of direct visual contact with anyone from the Company, just the telephone conversations with Clive, left her total control over the business and she liked it. While she could make decisions it would go from strength to strength. Confidence in her ability to deal with the top echelons of corporate clients had brought repeat requests for the Company’s services. The linguists had been in demand as more conferences with overseas organisations were drawn to the city. The girls had been called to client briefings days prior to conferences taking place, and when the big day arrived, the work was usually from nine a.m. until late evening. This meant that they were now earning serious money. The foreign girls were especially delighted as they were able to send money home to their families and save for their own future too.

So far not one girl had let her down and the intelligent feedback she received had given enough information to prepare an updated training course for the girls. A day had been left free in the diary so that everyone could attend the training session to be held in the Lowry. With Carol being involved with so many clients using the hotel, she had been able to negotiate a good rate for hiring the appropriate room for the morning. As she had hoped, all the girls arrived and on time.

When Amanda arrived, she announced that the Lowry was becoming more like home as she would be back again the following evening. There had been requests for the service from varying organisations for the next day and regretfully Carol had to turn business away.

‘I’m pleased you have remembered where you should be tomorrow Amanda.’ Carol’s eyes twinkled as she spoke to the girl who was becoming a favourite.

Information flowed between Carol and the girls, with high spirits making the meeting a pleasure as well as a learning experience. The meeting was interrupted when Amanda’s mobile rang, this invited some humorous comments from some of the girls.

‘Oh no! How did it happen? Where is she now? Oh! Mum.’ Amanda dissolved into tears, her shoulders heaving with her sobs. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

‘Sorry Carol,’ she sobbed, ‘Heather has pulled a pan of boiling water over herself and has been rushed to hospital.’ Grabbing her bag, she dashed out of the conference room, longing to be with her daughter.

Carol rushed out after her to make sure Amanda could get to the hospital in the quickest possible time. Catching up with her by the hotel entrance, she stopped a man getting into a taxi, quickly pushing Amanda into the back seat. ‘Quick, to the hospital,’ she shouted to the driver. Afterwards she reflected that she didn’t know which hospital, but no doubt Amanda would give clearer directions.

Turning to the bewildered man, Carol apologised and explained the situation which was accepted with grace.

Returning to the conference room, the girls were eager for Carol to give them information. ‘Sorry girls you know as much as I do, Amanda has gone off to the hospital in a taxi. As soon as I hear anything, I’ll let you know. I just hope little Heather is going to be alright.’ Amanda was popular with all the girls and they had often listened with amusement at Amanda’s description of her daughter’s latest prank.

Once the conversation subsided, Carol decided to end the course as she had done what she had set out to do. The rest of the morning was to be a social affair with some female bonding, but the atmosphere had become tense following Amanda’s departure with small groups in hushed conversation each one concerned about the child’s welfare.

Returning to the office, Carol had to check the diary to rearrange job allocations. There were three jobs allocated to Amanda, one for the following evening and two later in the week. The latter two she could cover but the 23
rd
was a problem, the team was fully booked and she had banked the client’s cheque which had been honoured.

‘Only one thing for it my girl,’ Carol said to herself. ‘You’re one short, there is a solution, and you’re it.’ To take on the P.R. role had never entered her mind, now she thought it might be a good idea. The first hand experience would give insight to the problems the girls coped with on a day to day basis. Having committed herself, she intended the job to be as professional if not more so than her team might deliver.

A small doubt fleetingly crossed her mind. Clive had told her to keep a low profile after her involvement with the press. Did he mean low profile in all things? She quickly convinced herself that this was not a time to worry about it, and the decision made was correct. No business could afford to ignore clients, particularly when they were up front with the money. To avoid any further upset, she would not mention it next time she spoke to him.