Goodmans of Glassford Street Read Free Page B

several of the buyers were not there. They travelled around a lot. Sometimes they bought stock from warehouses in Glasgow or elsewhere in Scotland, but as often as not, they went down to Manchester or Leeds or Nottingham or London to buy from the big wholesalers and manufacturers there. Mr Webster, the buyer for toys, often went down to South Castle-on-Sea.
    It was a lengthy meeting, with Douglas Benson getting his oar in as often as he could. Norman prayed that Mrs Goodman wouldn’t forget anyone’s name. It was something anybody could do, but it was obvious Benson looked triumphant when Mrs Goodman had a wee lapse of memory. He was trying to prove she was incapable. One of the main ideas he kept arguing for at every meeting was doing away with most of the counters and having stock, especially fashion, hanging on display for customers to rifle through and examine and take into the fitting rooms to try on. Then the customers could take the goods over to one central counter where they could pay. This, he pointed out, was done in every other department store now. True, but as Mrs Goodman said, they were not just another department store. They were different. They were special. They were Goodmans of Glassford Street and people came from all over, not just the city of Glasgow but further afield, to visit and purchase goods.
    But look at the money they could save, Benson argued. Yes, indeed, Norman thought. Most of the staff would be ruthlessly cut out for a start. Mrs Goodman reminded him that they were all right as they were. And there was no denying that Goodmans of Glassford Street was not only famous, it was a very profitable business.
    After the meeting, Norman went along the corridor to the staff canteen for a cup of tea, before returning downstairs. On the way down, he phoned home on his mobile to check on how Jenny was. He was in the habit of phoning several times a day to ask the carer how his wife was. Sometimes, if Jenny was well enough and was not asleep, the carer would put her on the phone and she’d be able to answer his worried queries. Mostly, however, she was so sedated with painkillers, she was unable to talk to him. Sometimes, when he was at home with her, she’d open her eyes and look lovingly, gratefully at him and she’d manage a smile.
    He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. Distress was mounting in him so much that he could barely speak to the chargehands of certain departments he’d purposely come down to see.
    The whole day was like that, a continuous struggle to carry on normally and control his fears about losing Jenny. It was a relief when at last it was time for him to make his first journey along to the bank. Some of the takings he carried in leather packets and satchels in a case to put into the bank deposit box. Several journeys had to be made and several different routes taken, and all at different times each day. This was on the advice of the police, who said that thieves soon found out if a regular time was used and so they knew when to attack. After that the times and routes were varied.
    There was still plenty of money left in the counting house, of course, to cover the floats he took down to each department every morning to be used as change for any customers who paid cash. Nowadays, though, so much was done either by cheque or plastic card.
    He already had an overdraft at his bank. He had a good salary. Nevertheless, it was a constant struggle to cover all the expenses he had. Every night he prayed for some miracle to happen that might make it possible for him to get Jenny into the special nursing home where she would be given the drug that would save her life.
    He prayed now as he walked blindly along Glassford Street.

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    Abi went along to The Granary for lunch as often as she could. It was a healthfood shop with a few tables dotted around and high stools at the window shelf. She especially liked their home-made soup and macaroni cheese. But they had a variety of other