The Undomestic Goddess
Page 17
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“I’m just getting a cup of tea. D’you want one?”
“That’d be … great. Thanks.”
Maggie disappears and I bury my head in my hands. I’m trying to keep calm, but inside is a great well of terror. I have to face it. I’ve made a mistake.
I have made a mistake.
What am I going to do? I can’t think straight—
Then suddenly Guy’s words from yesterday ring in my ears, and I feel an almost painful flood of relief. A mistake isn’t a mistake unless it can’t be put right.
Yes. The point is, I can put this right. I can still register a charge.
The process will be excruciating. I’ll have to tell the bank what I’ve done—and Glazerbrooks—and Arnold—and Ketterman. I’ll have to have new documentation drawn up. And, worst of all, live with everyone knowing I’ve made the kind of stupid, thoughtless error a trainee would make.
It might mean an end to my partnership. I feel sick—but there’s no other option. I have to put the situation right.
Quickly I log on to the Companies House Web site and enter a search for Glazerbrooks. As long as no other charges have been registered against Glazerbrooks in the meantime, it will all come to the same thing.…
I stare at the page in disbelief.
No.
It can’t be.
There’s a new debenture in Glazerbrooks’ charge register, securing £50 million owed to some company called BLLC Holdings. It was registered last week. Third Union Bank has been bumped down the creditors’ queue.
My mind is helter-skeltering. This isn’t good. It’s not good. I have to talk to someone quickly. I have to do something about this now, before any more charges are made. I have to … to tell Arnold.
Just the thought paralyzes me with horror.
I can’t do it. I just can’t go out and announce I’ve made the most basic, elementary error and put £50 million of our client’s money at risk. What I’ll do is … is start sorting out the mess first, before I tell anyone here. Have the damage limitation under way. Yes. I’ll call the bank first. The sooner they know, the better—
“Samantha?”
“What?” I practically leap out of my chair.
“You’re nervy today!” Maggie laughs and comes toward the desk with a cup of tea. “Feeling on top of the world?”
For an instant I honestly have no idea what she’s talking about. My world has been reduced to me and my mistake and what I’m going to do about it.
“Oh! Right. Yes!” I try to grin back and surreptitiously wipe my damp hands on a tissue.
“I bet you haven’t come down off your high yet!” She leans against the filing cabinet. “I’ve got some champagne in the fridge, all ready.…”
“Er … great! Actually, Maggie, I’ve really got to get on.…”
“Oh.” She looks hurt. “Well, OK. I’ll leave you.”
As she walks out I can see indignation in the set of her shoulders. She probably thinks I’m a total cow. But every minute is another minute of risk. I have to call the bank. Immediately.
I search through the attached contact sheet and find the name and number of our contact at Third Union. Charles Conway.
This is the man I have to call. This is the man whose day I have to disturb and admit that I’ve totally messed up. With trembling hands I pick up the phone. I feel as though I’m psyching myself up to dive into a noxious swamp.
For a few moments I just sit there, staring at the keypad, willing myself to punch in the number. At last, I reach out and dial. As it rings, my heart begins to pound.
“Charles Conway.”
“Hi!” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s Samantha Sweeting from Carter Spink. I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Hi, Samantha.” He sounds friendly enough. “How can I help?”
“I was phoning on a … a technical matter. It’s about …” I can hardly bear to say it. “Glazerbrooks.”
“Oh, you’ve heard about that,” says Charles Conway. “News travels fast.”
The room seems to shrink.
“Heard … what?” My voice is higher than I’d like. “I haven’t heard anything.”
“Oh! I assumed that’s why you were calling. Yes, they called in the receivers today. That last-ditch attempt to save themselves obviously didn’t work.…”
I feel light-headed. Black spots are dancing in front of my eyes. Glazerbrooks is going bust. They’ll never draw up the new documentation now. Not in a million years.
I won’t be able to register the charge. I can’t put it right. I’ve lost Third Union Bank £50 million.
“That’d be … great. Thanks.”
Maggie disappears and I bury my head in my hands. I’m trying to keep calm, but inside is a great well of terror. I have to face it. I’ve made a mistake.
I have made a mistake.
What am I going to do? I can’t think straight—
Then suddenly Guy’s words from yesterday ring in my ears, and I feel an almost painful flood of relief. A mistake isn’t a mistake unless it can’t be put right.
Yes. The point is, I can put this right. I can still register a charge.
The process will be excruciating. I’ll have to tell the bank what I’ve done—and Glazerbrooks—and Arnold—and Ketterman. I’ll have to have new documentation drawn up. And, worst of all, live with everyone knowing I’ve made the kind of stupid, thoughtless error a trainee would make.
It might mean an end to my partnership. I feel sick—but there’s no other option. I have to put the situation right.
Quickly I log on to the Companies House Web site and enter a search for Glazerbrooks. As long as no other charges have been registered against Glazerbrooks in the meantime, it will all come to the same thing.…
I stare at the page in disbelief.
No.
It can’t be.
There’s a new debenture in Glazerbrooks’ charge register, securing £50 million owed to some company called BLLC Holdings. It was registered last week. Third Union Bank has been bumped down the creditors’ queue.
My mind is helter-skeltering. This isn’t good. It’s not good. I have to talk to someone quickly. I have to do something about this now, before any more charges are made. I have to … to tell Arnold.
Just the thought paralyzes me with horror.
I can’t do it. I just can’t go out and announce I’ve made the most basic, elementary error and put £50 million of our client’s money at risk. What I’ll do is … is start sorting out the mess first, before I tell anyone here. Have the damage limitation under way. Yes. I’ll call the bank first. The sooner they know, the better—
“Samantha?”
“What?” I practically leap out of my chair.
“You’re nervy today!” Maggie laughs and comes toward the desk with a cup of tea. “Feeling on top of the world?”
For an instant I honestly have no idea what she’s talking about. My world has been reduced to me and my mistake and what I’m going to do about it.
“Oh! Right. Yes!” I try to grin back and surreptitiously wipe my damp hands on a tissue.
“I bet you haven’t come down off your high yet!” She leans against the filing cabinet. “I’ve got some champagne in the fridge, all ready.…”
“Er … great! Actually, Maggie, I’ve really got to get on.…”
“Oh.” She looks hurt. “Well, OK. I’ll leave you.”
As she walks out I can see indignation in the set of her shoulders. She probably thinks I’m a total cow. But every minute is another minute of risk. I have to call the bank. Immediately.
I search through the attached contact sheet and find the name and number of our contact at Third Union. Charles Conway.
This is the man I have to call. This is the man whose day I have to disturb and admit that I’ve totally messed up. With trembling hands I pick up the phone. I feel as though I’m psyching myself up to dive into a noxious swamp.
For a few moments I just sit there, staring at the keypad, willing myself to punch in the number. At last, I reach out and dial. As it rings, my heart begins to pound.
“Charles Conway.”
“Hi!” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s Samantha Sweeting from Carter Spink. I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Hi, Samantha.” He sounds friendly enough. “How can I help?”
“I was phoning on a … a technical matter. It’s about …” I can hardly bear to say it. “Glazerbrooks.”
“Oh, you’ve heard about that,” says Charles Conway. “News travels fast.”
The room seems to shrink.
“Heard … what?” My voice is higher than I’d like. “I haven’t heard anything.”
“Oh! I assumed that’s why you were calling. Yes, they called in the receivers today. That last-ditch attempt to save themselves obviously didn’t work.…”
I feel light-headed. Black spots are dancing in front of my eyes. Glazerbrooks is going bust. They’ll never draw up the new documentation now. Not in a million years.
I won’t be able to register the charge. I can’t put it right. I’ve lost Third Union Bank £50 million.
