Susan slumped in the chair. She was not a person, he was not a person, she was beginning to wonder if the only person who qualified as human in the factory was the alien thing in the environmental tank downstairs.
“How on earth can you accept this?” she asked.
“I don’t see I got a choice.”
Susan reached for her tea, taking a sip to calm her nerves while she gathered her scattered thoughts. She had a sinking feeling that Henry’s cheque was just a symptom of a much larger problem. With two days to go she did not need more on her plate, but if she did not follow this up now, she knew it could blindside her later.
“So where do people keep money?” she asked.
“A few in a bank or credit union. Many under the mattress, or spend it as soon as they earn it,” Marcus said, and Henry nodded utterly matter-of-factly.
“Jewellery. Stuff you can pawn and retrieve to make the money last. Or play the numbers,” the driver added. Susan’s heart sank. She knew what he was saying but wanted confirmation.
“You mean buy jewellery when you have cash, pawn it when you need cash and retrieve it with the next pay cheque so you can pawn it again?” As Henry nodded, she shook her head. The money might be safe but the workers would be losing ten percent or more of their pay cheque to the pawnbroker each month.
“And if your home gets robbed, or you get mugged?”
“There aren’t any options.” Henry said. Susan closed her eyes for a moment as she realised the huge hole in her plans. All this time, all this work and she had never even considered what the workers were doing with their cash.
“We’re paying a good wage, but they’ve got no way to save it,” she said to herself.
“Save it for what?” Marcus asked, and Susan blinked. Property would be out of reach for most of them. If they could not get to a bank, they could not get to a stockbroker.
“A…a rainy day? Or illness.” She put her head in her hands as she saw the look on Henry’s face, and understood the full extent of the problem. It was no use giving people money if they had no way to keep it safe.
Of the two hundred workers in the plant, if the plant failed, how many would have a fallback? With a sinking feeling, she realised it was probably not many. They had a million in reserves if she sold everything back now, enough for a year but nowhere near enough to last the length of the Depression if what she recalled was correct. If she had realised this earlier, she was not sure she would ever have taken the task on, instead of simply closing the factory. And there was no time left any more. It was too late to change course now. In two days, anyone she laid off now would have no chance of finding work.
“Stupid. I’ve been very stupid,” she muttered. Worse, if word got round the Killgrace employees had cash once the depression hit, they would be targets. Taking a breath, getting her face straight, she looked up. Both men were staring at her. “Then we fix this now.”
“How? Form a credit union?” Marcus frowned.
“That would take months,” Susan said, knowing her papers weren’t good enough to pass the legal examination. “No, we’ll have a word with Mr. Porter. Henry, I’ll need a hand.”
“He don’t want people like me at his bank,” Henry said, accent half fueld by gin. Susan quirked an eyebrow, once more cold as ice.
“I own him. I don’t care what he wants.”
~
“Mr. Porter, we’re here to open an account.” Susan said as she was shown into the banker’s office. The clerk closed the door behind them, surprised Henry was accompanying her.
“Of course, Miss Chapman. What sort of account are you looking for?” She took a seat in the smaller chair to the side, as Henry sat in front of the desk.
“It’s not for me,” she said, looking at Henry. Porter’s eyes followed hers.
“I’ve made a bonus, and I’d like to open an account.” Henry passed the check across, face closed, already knowing what would happen. Porter looked at it, then at him and pushed the cheque back. Henry made no move to take it.
“I’m sorry, I can’t accept this.” He was looking at her, not Henry, and Susan arched an eyebrow. Henry had warned her this would happen in the car, but she had not expected anything so blatant to her face. As the pause stretched and it sank in that Porter was not going to speak to Henry, she spoke icily.
“Why not? Are you saying you won’t take my cheque? Is my money not good enough?”
“No, but…but your driver does not meet the exacting standards of -”
“Mr. Killgrace owns the bank, Mr. Porter, and I represent the company that guarantees it.” Her voice was smooth as silk, right before the knife slid home. “And we don’t permit our employees to be treated poorly.”
“That’s all very well, Miss Chapman, but in the interests of future business we have to turn down this deposit.”
“Future. business.” Her words were icebergs in the course of the conversation, but Mr. Porter ignored the warnings and ploughed ahead full steam.
“I don’t care how respected we are, Miss Chapman, if we got a name as a–”
“Do not finish that sentence.” Her voice was a low growl, and the conversation stopped dead. Henry’s hands had locked tight on the arms of the chair. Porter swallowed convulsively, unable to look away as Susan’s gaze locked on him. After a moment she continued, voice level once more. “Frankly, Mr. Porter, if the customer’s blood is red and their money is green, I don’t see a problem.” Porter’s current boss was inverting that statement, but Susan’s opinion of Cet could wait.
“Unfortunately, Miss Chapman, not everyone sees things the same way,” Porter said. “We’ve got several major clients who would withdraw their support if they saw – people like him – walking in the front door.”
“Then you will be grateful, Mr. Porter, that most of them are at work during the bank’s opening hours,” Susan replied, and Porter seized on the excuse.
“There’s no point opening an account if they are unable to get to the bank.”
“That’s why they won’t have to,” she said. “We’ll bring the bank to them.”
“What?”
“I would suggest one of your junior clerks is on-site at the Killgrace office from ten o’clock to one o’clock every day, to handle the employees’ banking business for those staff who otherwise could not get to a bank. Each afternoon he can head across town with the ledger book and settle up at the main branch.” While the words, equality, fairness, and as far as Susan was concerned, decency, seemed to have little meaning in the room, she hoped ‘untapped market’ still carried weight.
“But the security – ”
“We can refit a meeting room as a bank office. We already hold sections of the company’s cash reserves on-site as you’ve seen.”
“But mortgages, loans…” Porter trailed off looking thoughtful. “If appointments could be made, we could handle those one day a week at the branch – I mean, office. How many people work on the site?” Susan glanced at Henry.
“Two hundred,” the driver said. Porter noddod, but kept watching Susan. She let the silence go on until the bank manager spoke.
“Maybe ten percent who will want an account.” Porter linked his fingers, raising an eyebrow superciliously. “I have to ask, Ms. Chapman, is it really worth your while?”
“You’ll get more than that,” Henry said. “Ain’t no banks near me, just the numbers.”
“Oh yes, them. Gambling,” Porter said dismissively, without even looking at Henry. Susan turned in her seat.
“Henry, how many employees do you think would use this?”
“If it’s the only bank they can get to during working hours? All of them, Miss Chapman. You could even put a window in the back for the other local workers.”
“And how many of them have – ” Porter stopped, and the tone of his voice changed. “They work for you, don’t they?”
“Mr. Porter, if you are asking how many of my employees can afford a bank account, that would be all of them.” Susan’s voice was calm.
“It seems you are taking a lot of interest in your employees’ finances,” he said, and she nodded, ignoring the implied insult.
“Mr. Porter, I don’t pay my employees well just for their savings to vanish in a bank collapse, or a mattress fire. That sort of thing is bad for morale.” He nodded slowly, and she knew she had him hooked.
“If word got out that we were running a branch for – ”
” – for employees of the company that owns Porter & Mason?” Susan interrupted archly. “And Mr. Porter, I expect this to be open to all our employees, and I mean all.”
“Of course,” he said, his mind obviously already on the logistics.
“Then I believe we were opening an account,” she said, with a nod to Henry. “The first to be credited to the Killgrace branch?”
