– all of them?’
‘Just the leadership and some of the long-termers.’
‘First I heard of it.’
Carter’s withering gaze settled on him. ‘There’s a lot you people don’t hear about in the London office.’
Tom parked himself on the corner of an adjacent desk. He knew better than to ask for a chair. ‘Did Rolt sanction it?’
‘Fucked if I know. His lordship gave the warden carte blanche on spending when this election business blew up.’
He referred to it as if it were an unwelcome irritation in Rolt’s schedule, rather than an unprecedented turning point in the fortunes of the nation.
‘I thought things had been getting a bit tight.’
Carter gave him another withering look and returned to the screen. He was notoriously guarded about all matters financial.
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to pry.’
‘Well, since you are here, you tell me something. What’s going to happen now he’s a fucking government minister? How’s he going to square the new day job with all this?’
Since Rolt had become absorbed in the election campaign his fortnightly visits to the campus had been on hold, but the place had its own momentum and Tom wasn’t aware that there had been any negative impact. ‘You lot seem pretty good at keeping the ship on course.’ He glanced nonchalantly around the room as he spoke. It was a hallmark of Carter’s type that compliments only irritated them further.
‘Paddling like fuck away from the rapids, you mean.’
This conversation wasn’t going anywhere. He decided to plunge in. ‘You know Randall? Used to be the boss’s driver.’
‘Gone. Had enough, I heard. A few of the old guard have in the past months.’
‘Who else?’
Carter looked at him with exaggerated dismay. ‘How should I know? No one tells me anything. Every time someone fucks off that’s one less mouth to feed. Far as I’m concerned, the fewer the merrier. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get on with my job here. Why not fuck off and annoy someone else?’
Tom’s attention was caught by a large wall map of the UK and a handful of locations marked as important. ‘What’s with the red flags?’
Carter followed his gaze. ‘My personal hit list. Properties that are a drain on resources. Main one being the London office, I might add.’ He gave him an accusing look.
‘Don’t blame me, I only work there.’ As well as the main campus where they were now, there were three hostels used for training courses: one in Derbyshire, the one on Dartmoor where the senior management had gone now, and a third in the Lake District. It all added up to quite a portfolio. ‘Are they all going to be sold?’
‘Some, if I have anything to do with it.’
‘Which first?’
‘Derbyshire and the Lakes.’
‘What do they cost to run?’
‘Far too fucking much, is what. And if they’re not maintained properly, and we’re not using them enough, they go to seed. So we’re obliged to keep them at least partially occupied when they’re not in use for exercises. Turn the heating off completely and these old buildings succumb to damp and go to rat shit. And if the local dickheads think they’re empty, you get burgled. Windows broken, graffiti …’
Tom stared more closely at the map. He had never been to these facilities. He thought about the car belonging to Randall’s elderly neighbour that had shown up in Cumbria. ‘Who’s looking after the Lakes?’
Carter sighed heavily. ‘As I think I tried to make clear, I just look after the figures. You’d have to see HR about that.’ He leaned back and then forward again. ‘Oh, no, you can’t. They’re on Dartmoor as well.’
The man could teach masterclasses in exasperation. He picked up a pencil and started to scribble something on a pad.
‘How’s the election gone down here? How do people feel about it?’
Carter threw down his pencil. It rolled off the pad and fell to the floor. ‘Look, what do you actually want, Buckingham? Because, hard as it may be
‘Just the leadership and some of the long-termers.’
‘First I heard of it.’
Carter’s withering gaze settled on him. ‘There’s a lot you people don’t hear about in the London office.’
Tom parked himself on the corner of an adjacent desk. He knew better than to ask for a chair. ‘Did Rolt sanction it?’
‘Fucked if I know. His lordship gave the warden carte blanche on spending when this election business blew up.’
He referred to it as if it were an unwelcome irritation in Rolt’s schedule, rather than an unprecedented turning point in the fortunes of the nation.
‘I thought things had been getting a bit tight.’
Carter gave him another withering look and returned to the screen. He was notoriously guarded about all matters financial.
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to pry.’
‘Well, since you are here, you tell me something. What’s going to happen now he’s a fucking government minister? How’s he going to square the new day job with all this?’
Since Rolt had become absorbed in the election campaign his fortnightly visits to the campus had been on hold, but the place had its own momentum and Tom wasn’t aware that there had been any negative impact. ‘You lot seem pretty good at keeping the ship on course.’ He glanced nonchalantly around the room as he spoke. It was a hallmark of Carter’s type that compliments only irritated them further.
‘Paddling like fuck away from the rapids, you mean.’
This conversation wasn’t going anywhere. He decided to plunge in. ‘You know Randall? Used to be the boss’s driver.’
‘Gone. Had enough, I heard. A few of the old guard have in the past months.’
‘Who else?’
Carter looked at him with exaggerated dismay. ‘How should I know? No one tells me anything. Every time someone fucks off that’s one less mouth to feed. Far as I’m concerned, the fewer the merrier. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get on with my job here. Why not fuck off and annoy someone else?’
Tom’s attention was caught by a large wall map of the UK and a handful of locations marked as important. ‘What’s with the red flags?’
Carter followed his gaze. ‘My personal hit list. Properties that are a drain on resources. Main one being the London office, I might add.’ He gave him an accusing look.
‘Don’t blame me, I only work there.’ As well as the main campus where they were now, there were three hostels used for training courses: one in Derbyshire, the one on Dartmoor where the senior management had gone now, and a third in the Lake District. It all added up to quite a portfolio. ‘Are they all going to be sold?’
‘Some, if I have anything to do with it.’
‘Which first?’
‘Derbyshire and the Lakes.’
‘What do they cost to run?’
‘Far too fucking much, is what. And if they’re not maintained properly, and we’re not using them enough, they go to seed. So we’re obliged to keep them at least partially occupied when they’re not in use for exercises. Turn the heating off completely and these old buildings succumb to damp and go to rat shit. And if the local dickheads think they’re empty, you get burgled. Windows broken, graffiti …’
Tom stared more closely at the map. He had never been to these facilities. He thought about the car belonging to Randall’s elderly neighbour that had shown up in Cumbria. ‘Who’s looking after the Lakes?’
Carter sighed heavily. ‘As I think I tried to make clear, I just look after the figures. You’d have to see HR about that.’ He leaned back and then forward again. ‘Oh, no, you can’t. They’re on Dartmoor as well.’
The man could teach masterclasses in exasperation. He picked up a pencil and started to scribble something on a pad.
‘How’s the election gone down here? How do people feel about it?’
Carter threw down his pencil. It rolled off the pad and fell to the floor. ‘Look, what do you actually want, Buckingham? Because, hard as it may be
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