options have decided against it. I have marked.....’
He leant across his desk and pulled over a plan of the pool area.
‘...some power points, here, here, here, here, and here, once again imbedded into the woodwork, but readily available should they be needed. Music, ice machine, cleaning tools and whatever.’
He did not show the plan to either Stein or Ambrose, but just kept it to himself, jabbing at it here and there with his pen as if talking to himself.
‘If we get started right away we should be fine. Ideally I want all this done by the end of May. The specialised work we will have to... farm it out.... get an outside firm to come in and do that part, naturally, but a lot of it we can do on our own. Pulling out the old stuff, preparing the terrain, getting it all ready for when they turn up. And, and this is the part I want you to pay special attention to, Ambrose.’
On hearing his name he seemed to start, as if he had just snapped out of some kind of reverie or other.
‘Are you up to it, eh? Do you realise what I’m saying here, Ambrose?’
No.
‘I mean, once the worst of it has been dug up and thrown out. What’s next? What then, eh Ambrose?’
It was a habit he had fallen into without realising it. Harvey would ask Ambrose these questions, knowing full well that the poor man had no idea what to respond. It was something he did instinctively. Ambrose raised his shoulders. How could he possibly know if it was all a secret?
‘The electrical fittings! The wiring! You up to that, Ambrose? It’s a big job – the boarding, the little lamps and power points, the new lampposts. Not the pool lights, they’ll need specialist installation, but the rest... Do you think you can do it? Are you our man?’
Ambrose stole a quick glance at Stein, who had opened his eyes just a little, just enough for Ambrose to realise that it was now time to confirm. Without a doubt. Yes, sir.
‘Yes, Mr Paulson. No problem, sir.’
Harvey examined Ambrose and was not convinced. Throughout the monologue Ambrose had appeared like a man who was being washed off deck by a storm of unretainable information. His eyes shifted, because he had never been able to hold Harvey’s gaze. Why not? Was he shy? Or was it that he was afraid of being caught out, an impostor pretending to understand and follow the conversation? Or maybe he did not like being treated like a fool, maybe he had taken offence. Was he about to make a comment, or would he just sit there and stare back blankly? His mouth hung open, not too much, but enough for any neutral observer to affirm that Ambrose Ork certainly looked gormless, even if he wasn’t.
‘You sure? You’re not going to let me down on this? You are sure you’re qualified to undertake this... ‘
The word eluded Harvey, or rather the only one that sprang to mind was ‘undertaking’, so he trailed off.
‘I’m sure he can manage, Mr. Paulson, his father was a fine teacher. Right Bro?’
Ambrose smiled at that.
‘Yes. No problem, sir. No problem.’
Harvey smiled too.
‘So be it, then. Mr. Stein, if you have a minute or two I’d like to go over the plans with you so that you can then fill Ambrose in with the finer details.’
‘Of course.’
Ambrose didn’t move.
‘I’ll talk to you later. Lunchtime’
He finally understood Joe’s cue, and took his leave.
Harvey frowned at Stein.
‘He’ll be fine. He’s better than you think.’
‘He didn’t understand a word’.
‘He’ll be alright, I’ll explain it all to him in detail later. He just needs a little time to assimilate it, that’s all. He’ll be fine.’
Harvey shook his head in disbelief.
‘How on earth did he get a job here? I really can’t understand how they ever took him on.’
Stein did not like such comments, even though he was used to them by now. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t agree with Harvey’s assessment of Ambrose and his ability to perform certain functions. They all had a giggle at Bro’s antics at some time or other. But coming from Harvey.... It became malicious, malicious gossip. There was no humour intended, only criticism. Mr. Paulson did not like Ambrose, had no real affection for him, not at all. He just wanted to ridicule and jibe and insult the man, regardless of his feelings. It was true; Ambrose was more than hopeless at times. But the household had come to feel for him over the years, and Joe did not think it right that this Harvey, whom nobody cared for in the slightest, should take it upon himself to talk behind his back, to mock him and sneer at his incompetence. Because it was not Ambrose’s fault that he had been born a bit slow off the mark. To blame him for that was like trying to blame someone for having big ears, or poor eyesight. It was not right, not the done thing.
Malicious gossip. He’d just about had enough of it, having suffered it himself for years. Joe Stein was whatever people imagined him to be in their ignorance. He was not married, so he must be gay, probably had a man friend tucked away somewhere. Or maybe he was having an affair with Señora Luz. The very idea scandalised him, not because he could not bear to be coupled with Luz albeit in an imaginary world. No, that was not a problem. The problem was that Señora Luz had her own intimacy, her own inner world that had to be respected. By insinuating that he was having an affair with her, they also insinuated that she was having an affair with him. Intolerable. He knew that rumour had once had it that he had been sleeping with Alice Haute! The Alice that everyone assumed was a snooty, high and mighty lady of the house, when she had been no more than a very good actress. Kind, caring, discreet, and eventually crushed by cruel fate. He had to put in a good word for Ambrose and cut Harvey short.
‘He’s a good worker, and a very good electrician. He knows what he’s doing, he’s a good man. He’ll be fine, just fine.’
Harvey half sniffed, half smiled. He would gladly have continued criticising Ambrose, but Mr. Stein was so...so.... Stern? Stern Stein. And difficult to fathom. Harvey had never been able to work out just what it was about Stein that he didn’t like, that he didn’t trust. There was so much about him that he didn’t know, such a long history of service stretching back to when Arnold Haute had still been alive, when Sydney was no bigger than his son was now. How many secrets did he keep behind those rimless glasses, how many loyalties did he still maintain? Stein knew so much but gave away so little that Harvey couldn’t conclude if he were extremely reserved or extremely deceitful. He had pushed him and probed him over the last couple of years, but Stein had come out as immaculate as ever, always in control, always in his place, his feathers forever unruffled. Was he a closet gay? Did he have a mistress somewhere, perhaps on another estate? Was there any truth in the rumours about him and the late Mrs Haute? Probably not; people talk too much about things that do not concern them, especially in small, closed societies. Still, through his manner and his insistence on Ambrose’s capabilities he had made it clear that today they were not going to get a laugh at the fool’s expense. Pity, but so be it.
Harvey explained everything in minute detail to Stein, emphasising the most important points, underlining and ringing certain words or figures. He wanted to be exhaustive because he was about to delegate, to hand over to Joe Stein the whole plan. Naturally, as the mastermind and financer of the scheme he was still the overall boss, and the final word was indisputably his. But for the day to day business, Stein was to become the overseer, the site manager. Which meant that if all went well, Harvey was to be congratulated, but that any snags or delays were down to Stein’s inability to see the job through to a successful conclusion. The chain of command. Pass it on.
Joe Stein closed the door behind him as well as he could with his arms full of folders and rolled up plans. He was hoping it wouldn’t slam, as that would give the wrong impression, but pulling it to with his elbow was an uncertain science. Luckily it clicked gently into place.
It was a good idea. The pool really could have done with an overhaul long ago,
it was tacky and falling to pieces, and Harvey certainly didn’t do things by halves. Embedded lighting, swanky new showers, decking. It would look great once the wood was down. The upkeep would be a chore, as maintaining decking throughout the year was a time consuming task, but it would be worth it in the end. Anyway, it wouldn’t be him who got down on his knees and treated the wood. He laughed as he imagined Ambrose slogging away. But the best part was that it would probably be the staff that got most use out of it, especially during the week. But...
Later, looking back, he would not be able to put into words what he had felt back then. It wasn’t anything concrete, nothing he could put his finger on and say ‘that was it’. No, it was more like a nagging doubt that something was not right. He sounded more like Pet, he knew, and forever held his silence even to the police. You had to be serious with people like that. They worked on evidence, not hearsay or hunches. But he had definitely come out of that interview with Harvey with a strange sensation in his guts. No more than that, but no less either. The question he would ask himself throughout his retirement years was whether he remembered that uneasy feeling solely because of what later happened. Was he going back and colouring in, adding details in retrospect that in reality had never existed? Could he trust himself and his memory to respect, in a neutral way, the true sequence of events,