Dead Reckoning Read Online Free PDF Page B

rivalry between big brash commercial Leeds and small, inward-looking manufacturing Bradfield had been multiplied many times in the nineties as the textile industry’s sickness became near terminal and the larger city flourished on a boom in financial services. The southerners’ old jibe that travelling to Yorkshire meant venturing to the Third World could now be heard amongst travellers making the twenty minute trip on the train from Leeds to Bradfield. The words knives and twisting sprang to mind, Laura thought, and Earnshaw was obviously not a man who liked to be on the losing side in any competition. A bit like my father, she thought, reminded of her teatime engagement at the Clarendon. But one of her colleagues had asked the mill boss to outline his company’s problems and in spite of her initial lack of interest she found her attention seized.
    â€œWe’re not bust,” Earnshaw was saying combatively. “But as you know the economic climate’s tight for manufacturing and we need to put together a refinancing package to keep going until sales look up again. That’s all in hand, with meetings set up this week and next with people who are considering our position. In the meantime we’ve had to go to our workforce and ask for some sacrifices from them. We need to cut costs and there’s not much chance of that on the raw materials side so it has to be the workforce. I don’t like it, I won’t pretend I do, but we need to cut wages, cut overtime, retrench now in the hope of bouncing back in a year-or-so’s time when the climate improves.”
    â€œD’you really think it will improve?” put in Bill Wrigley, who wrote most of the industrial and transport stories for the Gazette . “I mean, the market may not bounce back this time, not for high quality stuff like you produce.”
    Earnshaw looked at him for a long time before he replied.
    â€œTo be honest, there’s no telling,” he said. “All I can say is
that I’m determined to keep this business going if I can and I know that in the present circumstances, if the workers vote for a strike, that will upset the customers we do still have. I’m trying to persuade them that what they’re planning is suicide for them as well as the company. And that’s the point I want you to get across in your coverage of the dispute. The union’ll tell you different of course. But it could be the end of us if they strike.”
    â€œYou say it’s a family company still. Exactly how does that work now, Mr. Earnshaw?” Wrigley pressed.
    â€œThe mill was built in 1872 by my great-grandfather,” Earnshaw said. “It was a model of its kind at the time. It’s always been a family firm and that’s the way I want it to stay. At present the shareholding is divided between my father George, myself and my two sons, Matthew and Simon. A four way split.”
    â€œWouldn’t floating the company help you at this juncture?” Wrigley asked. “If you need extra capital to streamline your operation …”
    â€œNot if it meant we lost control,” Earnshaw said flatly. “You’d not find outside finance that gave a monkey’s for Bradfield worsted cloth.”
    â€œAnd your father’s still fit, is he?” Wrigley asked. “He must be knocking on a bit.”
    â€œHe’s fighting fit,” Earnshaw said. “Still a working director at 78, and shows no signs of tiring.”
    â€œBut …” Wrigley began again but Ted Grant intervened.
    â€œI don’t think that’s really relevant to our coverage of the labour dispute, is it Mr. Earnshaw, if you’re not thinking of selling out. So give us a run-down on what happens next?”
    Laura let her mind wander again as Earnshaw went into details of how he planned to reduce the pay of the mill’s 600 workers and how long a strike ballot would take if the union
pushed the