Candlesight. Michael Liddy
Читать онлайн книгу.
are.”
“Can you leave the front door unattended?”
The woman emerged into the corridor again and smiled warmly. “Pretty much the only people that come in are for warehouse deliveries, it will be fine for a few minutes.” She started walking down the corridor. “And you’ll get lost if I don’t show you.”
They walked along the corridor, the floorboards squeaking periodically as they went, and Amelia wondered why she’d need an escort. It was a square building, surely navigating couldn’t be that difficult. But as they passed through a series of rooms, passageways and warehouse spaces, she quickly dismissed that thought.
This was a building that had gone through numerous economic cycles in its long life, and weathered all the operational changes that entailed. It was apparent that every time something was needed, an existing space was altered to suit. Spaces were subdivided, partitioned, expanded, assimilated and walled off. The building didn’t need to be attractive or resolved; if it did the job, that was all that was necessary. After one and a half centuries of this attitude, what remained was a chaotic collection of corridors and rooms, all haphazardly tangled together. Amelia also noted that most of what they passed was completely unused. There was a sense of abandonment to the rows upon rows of doors in those dark corridors.
When they entered the fourth or fifth door from a large storage room that revealed yet another dark corridor, Amelia interrupted the woman’s continual chatter. “How much of this place is actually used for anything?”
She was silent for a moment before replying. “Um, well there’s the Coremade section over in the right corner, and then the big warehouse over the back. Apart from that it’s all closed up.” She regarded Amelia directly. “I’d suppose there’s maybe a third of the building being used. Maybe.” Unsure of the intent of her question and becoming a little uneasy, she turned back and continued walking.
At the end of another short corridor, the woman opened another of the interminable doors and nodded Amelia through and pointed. “Straight across the warehouse, there’s a set of double doors, that’s the Coremade area. If you’re ok from here I should probably go back.”
Nodding, Amelia smiled. “I’ll be fine, thank you.”
Amelia passed the woman and squinted into the bright space. Huge racks of cartons were arrayed in rows, reaching up seven or eight metres, and it was another metre to the ceiling. Unusually, the ceiling was lined, though that term was applied lightly; much of the plasterboard was in the process of falling away. The copious amounts of light descended through a series of yellowed skylights scattered around the remnants of the crumbling ceiling.
To her right the warehouse section extended for more than a hundred metres and it was then that she noted the stacks in front of her were sporadically packed and appeared quite old. She could just make out the edge of a large sliding door at what she assumed was the back of the factory, and guessed that the more commonly used stock was stored at the front. Given the volumes that Havesheld turned over and that there were three additioional storage facilities, she couldn’t imagine this area ever being filled to capacity.
Drawing her eyes away from the dramatic vista along the rows of palettes and crates, Amelia crossed the room and approached the doors the receptionist had indicated. Large, and showing at least four different layers of paint, the heavy timber doors were slightly ajar. A slight gust of warm air reached her and she found herself eager to get out of the chilly warehouse. Grabbing the opened leaf with both hands she pushed her rather slight weight into it and was rewarded as it swung silently inward.
The scene within was exactly as she expected. This was a broad space thirty metres square with a high ceiling at least five metres high. Again there was a decrepit ceiling, though here it was mostly intact. In the spots where it had fallen away there was only the deep black of the ceiling space visible beyond. The concrete floor of the factory was littered with machinery of all descriptions. Some of it Amelia recognised; lasting and welting machines, auto roughers and old binding machines. There was also an ancient brusher and something she thought might have been a sole edge trimmer. Beyond that, she didn’t understand the purpose of the rest. One thing was certain though, all of the machines were old and well worn. Some of them were tucked into corners and unused, piled up haphazardly like debris in a heavy metal salvage yard, others were caked in years of dust.
There was life here though; a sprinkling of people moved around the space, and in pockets there were ordered arrangements of materials, workbenches, and the product in various stages of construction. This was definitely no modern production line though. It was more like a hangover of the 19th century; a well equipped cottage industry.
Peering past the collections of equipment, Amelia discerned that the rear wall of the large space was lined with a row of rooms. One, towards the centre, had a modern looking glazed front and within there appeared to be a well provisioned office. The purpose of the others was unclear but judging from the large double and sliding doors, they appeared to be used for something.
Amelia stood and watched the scene for a little while, as her presence went unnoticed. There was a sense of relaxed purpose to the actions of the eight or ten people that moved around, not the frenetic bustle of the other factories she’d witnessed; this place had truly escaped from another age.
It was obvious to her that the office belonged to Ted; it perfectly matched the ego of the man she’d spoken to on the phone. As she approached it the appointments became more apparent; leather lounge chairs, heavy and ornate timber desk, a television, in a cabinet to the left and what could have been a private restroom leading off through a door to the rear right of a large built-in bookcase.
Ignoring the inquisitive stares that followed her path as she walked through the factory, she headed for the office and noted quickly that there was nobody within. Testing the door she noted that it was locked, and screwed her face up into a frown. “Somebody certainly has airs.”
From behind her a voice sounded. “Do you need something?”
Spinning around she regarded the middle aged woman who’d addressed her, looking up from a row of lasts. “Is Ted around?”
She shook her head slowly, not sure of whether to dismiss the stranger or not. “No, he doesn’t usually get in until ten or so.”
Amelia gave her a vague expression. “Really.” Reaching into her jacket she removed her mobile and flicking through the recently dialled numbers, found Ted's and selected it. Within seconds the call diverted to message bank and Amelia lowered the receiver. “I had an appointment to see Ted at 9am.”
The woman’s face curled up into a smile. “Who’d you make that with?”
Amelia replied calmly, “Ted.”
“Well, in all the years I’ve been working here, I’ve never seen him come in before ten. Are you a rep or something?”
Amelia was becoming frustrated now. “No.”
The woman persisted. “Well who are you then?” There was something almost belligerent in her tone.
She sighed. “I’m from head office.”
Her expression went from annoyed to anxious. Even down in this isolated pocket of the world, rumblings of the company’s difficulties must have filtered through. “Oh.”
By now a number of people had stopped what they were doing and were watching the exchange inquisitively. This was exactly what Amelia didn’t want. The last thing she needed right now were whisperings getting back to Richard of her having come down here and thrown the place into disarray. She needed to play down her presence.
“I’m just here to have a quick word with Ted to make sure he’s got everything he needs. We’re very happy with what’s going on down here and we want to make sure it stays that way.”
Her face swelled up into a smile. “I see. We do everything very carefully down here, every stitch