12 | The usual whirlwind
12 | the usual whirlwind
WILLIAM
In the subdued lighting of the Italian bistro, the murmur of private conversations melded with the chime of cutlery. The old brass clock, set above the bar, had yet to mark the arrival of seven. I had always cherished the age-old belief that punctuality lends credibility, so I had come early, keenly anticipating Robert’s entrance.
As the hands of the clock edged toward the appointed hour, a figure appeared. There he was, his shirt an unobtrusive shade of blue – a hue that somehow reminded me of an overcast day – and black trousers that had a touch of formality without fully committing. His dark skin shone under the dim light, accentuating each rounded contour of his handsome face. Weariness tugged at the corners of his eyes, yet they remained vigilant, darting about purposefully, likely searching for me.
I remembered his digital self, the one captured for LinkedIn. He seemed more youthful there, with fewer lines etching his face, and with darker hair. He was fifty-six, according to my research, but he clearly kept in good shape.
My attire was undoubtedly more formal than his – sharp and neat, perhaps making me appear the meticulous solicitor, even at an hour when most loosen their ties.
Robert’s approach was almost theatrical, a slow dance of recognition. His eyes, dark wells of contemplation, locked onto mine. There was a story there, a guarded tale, perhaps waiting for the right moment or the right listener.
‘Mr Simmons,’ I greeted, rising to grasp his hand, seeking trust not yet earned.
‘Rob’s fine.’
‘Then please call me Will. How are you?’
‘All good, thanks. And you?’ His grip was firm, but his gaze shimmered with scepticism. I felt an intangible dis tance; it lay there, a quiet chasm between us. Extracting truths wouldn’t be effortless.
‘I’m well. Just pleased the rain’s finally let up.’ I cocked my head toward the drenched street outside.
A faint smile of amusement flickered across his lips. ‘Ah, the elusive English summer,’ he said. ‘Always keeping us guessing.’
‘Indeed. It’s the one reliable uncertainty we have,’ I chuckled, feeling the weight of the imminent conversation but still desiring an air of ease. ‘You frequent this spot?’
He glanced around, seemingly taking in the surroundings anew. ‘Often enough. It’s my brother-in-law’s place.’
‘Really? Is he Italian, then?’
‘He is,’ he replied, taking a seat.
Settling into the chair opposite him, I said, ‘Then I’m sure he’s relieved about the change in weather, too.’
Robert gave a light chuckle. ‘Probably. But after two decades here, even the rain’s grown on him.’
A young waitress appeared, offering each of us a menu. The casual banter she exchanged with Robert suggested his regular patronage. He ordered the house red, and I followed suit. For the main, Robert recommended an intriguing pasta dish, spaghetti al nero – squid cooked in its own ink. I opted in, curious.
As the waitress left, the undercurrent of anticipation grew palpable. This wasn’t just another meal; it was potentially the gateway to pivotal revelations. I rummaged through my thoughts, searching for the right way to approach the subject.
‘Busy day at work?’ Robert asked, breaking the silence between us.
‘Indeed, the usual whirlwind,’ I replied, smiling weakly. ‘How was yours?’
‘Hectic, but in a different way – a world apart from the Gastronomy Group madness.’
An opening appeared, and I took my chance. ‘You chose to leave them for calmer waters, then?’
He gave a bitter laugh. ‘Not by choice. They handed me my hat. Took me an age to secure another job.’
That answered one question on my list: he had been sacked.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I said, wincing. ‘It’s rotten how one setback can stick on a CV.’
He gave a vague nod, his eyes holding a glint of regret.
A certain heaviness settled over our table. I leaned forward, my voice dropping to a quieter volume. ‘May I ask why they decided to dismiss you?’
The pause that followed was laden with contemplation, and I could almost see the wheels turning in Robert’s mind. He seemed to weigh his options, measuring the cost of truthfulness. I found myself holding my breath, hoping for honesty.
Finally, he said, ‘Let’s just say they weren’t playing cricket, and I refused to join their game. When I took a stand, they deemed me expendable.’
Even though I felt sorry for him, I barely managed to hide my satisfaction. His words aligned precisely with my suspicions, solidifying my belief that he was the ideal ally for my cause.
‘That’s a serious accusation,’ I said, studying him. ‘But it aligns with some unsavoury things I’ve noticed regarding Gastronomy’s dealings with Fusion.’
Robert raised a dark brow, interest piqued. ‘You touched on that in your message. What’s the story?’
A brief pause enveloped us as the wine made its appearance, its deep red hue glinting like a jewel. As Robert raised his glass, I leaned back and delved into my involvement with Jian and Fusion, explaining the distressing circumstances that had led me to this very moment. He listened intently, and I noted the subtle shift in his expression – a sharpening, a deeper engagement, and I quietly wished it was a dawning realisation.
‘So, from what I’ve gathered,’ I said, swirling the wine in my glass, ‘they’re likely aiming to either take over Fusion or push them out of the market. I’ve found hints of some dodgy tactics – meddling with supply chains, trying to poach key staff, and more. And if my suspicions regarding their breaches of competition law prove accurate, then involving the Competition and Markets Authority may be our unavoidable next step.’
Robert took a moment, his gaze drifting to the clock above the bar. ‘And why should I help you?’ he asked, his eyes meeting mine again. His tone wasn’t confrontational, merely curious. ‘I’m trying to move on, to put all this behind me.’
I nodded, reflecting on his guarded disposition. In the hours leading up to our meeting, I had played out various scenarios in my mind. One had been particularly clear: it was likely that I would need to present him with a compelling reason to aid me, beyond simply asking. I would need to counterbalance with an offer of my own. Now, with the revelations about his job termination, I sensed the scales tipping in my favour.
‘Because I might be able to assist you in return,’ I said, taking a sip of wine. ‘From what you’ve told me, it sounds like you may have been unfairly dismissed. I could help you take legal action against Gastronomy.’
Robert’s brow furrowed. ‘You’re a corporate solicitor, not a barrister.’
‘True,’ I acknowledged, ‘but I do know my way around the employment law landscape. While I can’t represent you in an unfair dismissal case, I can refer you to a trusted employment law specialist who can handle your case directly.’
‘I appreciate that,’ he replied, though his expression revealed scepticism. His reservation was understandable, but the pull of justice, perhaps even vindication, could be potent. ‘But I’ve already considered it, and the legal fees, going against Gastronomy Group’s lawyers… It’s daunting.’
‘There might be a way to curb those fees, potentially to nil, especially if our combined evidence is strong enough,’ I said. ‘Consider this: if you have any information that could help – files, correspondences – it could be invaluable. If I’m able to prove their underhanded tactics, it would surely strengthen your case, as it would bolster your claim that they dismissed you for refusing to be complicit. Beyond just covering your legal costs, there’s a good chance you’d be entitled to compensation. This would not only offset any financial burdens but could in fact lead to a substantial financial gain for you.’
Sensing his hesitation, I leaned forward. ‘You’ve implied they treated you unfairly, and from what you’ve told me, I’m inclined to agree. Now you’ve got a chance to address it. I’ve got a friend, top-tier in employment law. She owes me a favour. I could introduce you, and we can see what she thinks about your situation.’
He looked dubious. ‘But squaring off against their legal team, Will? It feels like David versus Goliath.’
Feeling a rush of hope, I said, ‘Remember, David won. If you’ve got something, anything that could shine a light on Gastronomy’s practices, we could have a real chance.’
Robert pressed his lips together, studying me for a long time. Finally, he sighed.
‘I might have some information that could help – files and emails. Nothing classified, though.’
‘That would be incredibly useful,’ I said, seeing triumph glimmering on the horizon. ‘Is that an agreement, then? Shall we join forces?’
He leaned back, taking in the proposition. He was silent for a moment before a small smile surfaced on his lips.
‘Very well, Will,’ he said. ‘Introduce me to your contact, and I’ll do my part to help you expose Gastronomy’s tactics.’
‘Brilliant.’
Our glasses met in a firm clink, sealing the deal. The next phase beckoned, and I was primed for it .