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telling you, there’s a very loyal, very select market for these shoes. On the inside of the box lid there’s a Coremade logo and underneath it a phone number. The phone goes to the factory at Kensington.” He fixed them both with steady stares. “It covers costs and I want it left alone.”

      Folding his arms, Adam sat back in his chair. “I’ve got a couple of problems with all this. How come we don’t know about this little division, how has it been accounted for all these years, but most importantly, why are you so bent on keeping it?”

      His expression very calm, Richard responded easily. “Yes, I knew about it, but it’s been going on a lot longer than you think. Every Chairman right back to Waldman has had some version of it. I think the first one was in the 1900s. Admittedly the product took a big right hand turn in ’92, and I think it’s now a great piece of industrial design, but it, like every version before, was a discreet, highly finished piece worn by select group and never publicised.” He pointed. “Come on, unless you looked at it closely, all you’d ever think is that it was a nice, simple shoe.”

      Adam pressed him. “Accounted for?”

      “Look closely, there’s no fraud here. You will, however, notice that our 'Samples and Prototype' budget is a little high, and our 'Warehouse Seconds' income is very healthy. Staff, well, that’s even easier.”

      Unconvinced, Adam shook his head. “I still don’t understand why you’d go to all the trouble so you can have a ridiculous indulgence.”

      Bristling now, Richard gave Adam a withering look. “Well my friend, that’s why you’re the accountant and I’m the CEO.”

      “Explain it to me then.” Adam’s frustration was rising.

      “No I’m not going to, and I don’t need to. Arthur wants it kept intact, it gets kept intact. End of discussion.”

      Adam mumbled under his breath. “Now the real reason comes out.”

      Richard spread his hands. “There’s no issue here, we’ve just always played it down. Part of the branding and allure is that it’s unknown. Put it in the Amex Platinum magazine and we’d get better sales but the mystique is gone. At the moment, if someone spots them and asks, it’s all very enigmatic. It makes money, its part of our heritage. It also means that we can keep Kensington as a warehouse and not lose money. It’s convenient, and a big bit of real estate that might be worth something one day. So leave Coremade alone.”

      “And that’s why you didn’t want it moved offshore when everything else did?” She was running her hands across the highly finished leather.

      “Actually I didn’t have an issue with that as long as we found a boutique factory we could control. It was one of the local guys, Ted Warwick, who came up with the plan to keep it here, and Arthur, before he passed the CEO role to me, was happy to support it when I brought it to him.” He smiled. “Ted’s brilliant, likes himself, but he’s the one who guided it through the transition and gave the shoe a lot of those features that have kept it exclusive and contemporary.”

      The conversation trailed off at that point and eventually they returned to the direction they were now to embark upon. It was another several days before that process was completed. Throughout that tumultuous period, where profoundly confronting decisions were being enacted, Amelia couldn’t quite dispel the enigma of the Coremade line from her mind. There was something about it, and the only example of its product that she’d seen, that convinced her there was ability in that small division that could help them. If she could find a way to inject but a small portion of that precision and design flair across the restricted brands and lines they’d elected to continue with, then there might be some ability to make this strategy work.

      As it stood, she had little confidence in the existing design team: three people locked away in an enclave in their Richmond head office. Amelia didn’t consider herself a designer and didn’t covet that mantle for herself. She could appreciate good design, though, and knew that their ideas were derivative at best. This emergency would not be serviced by diluted measures. The resurgence needed to be confident yet discreet; unorthodox, experimental products would not ensure their continuity, rather it would appear desperate and confusing to the market. The more she thought about it, the more she was sure there was something in Coremade that could help them.

      Late on the second Friday evening since James’s departure, the bank and their accountants departed after having been advised of the restructure and agreeing a still significant overdraft. Amelia cornered Richard. She’d never been particularly close to him, and while he was personable enough, the long established anointment of him as the successor to Arthur Arnold over all the possible candidates had encumbered him with an aloof arrogance and matching ego.

      So she chose her words carefully. “Richard, we’re going to need to stabilise these remaining product lines with some good ranges, and I think we need to get word out far earlier than we usually would.”

      “Well yes, that’s sort of obvious.” He regarded her levelly. “Have you got some idea in particular?”

      Amelia ignored the barb. “James’s people, the three of them in head office, have to go.” She corrected herself. “Or maybe they don’t have to go, but they can’t be leading. We need someone new.”

      He was quiet for a moment and then aware she was exploring the idea as she spoke he prompted her in mid thought. “And?”

      “This Coremade brand. I like what it is, and you say someone in Kensington had something to do with it?”

      Richard nodded. “That’s right; Ted. What do you want to do with him?”

      “I’m no designer, but I know what talent is. If you don’t have any issue, I’d like to have a word with him.”

      Considering this for a moment, Richard looked over at Adam talking to the directors and then returned his attention to Amelia, giving her some serious consideration. She was impeccably dressed in a pair of tan, finely weaved woollen trousers, a linen, open-necked white shirt and mohair cardigan. The simple platinum bangle on her right hand wrist matched the vertical pendant necklace and old stainless steel Oris watch. She was a little too thin for his liking, as if a stiff breeze would blow her off balance, but her penetrating eyes and fiery tresses hinted at her true strength.

      The breakdown of her marriage had been extremely difficult for her, he knew that. She’d married a charismatic but weak man, who as the years progressed, descended steadily into a miasma of gambling, infidelity and alcoholism. Striving with him for years, at the expense of her own desire for a family, she’d finally separated when the persistent rumours of his affair with his assistant had proven to be true. Cut off from the considerable resources of the family, he’d deteriorated quickly, and they’d heard recently that he’d sold the house he received as part of the settlement to cover mounting debts.

      Amelia had emerged after several months of depression, a stronger, hardened and more resolved person. Much of her innocence and youthful enthusiasm was gone, though in truth it had been long absent after years of neglect. Now she had her wider family and the business; they were her focus, and she was dedicated and resolved to pursuing their success. Richard knew he could count on her, she would not waver.

      “I don't have a problem with that. But why not look outward?”

      She shook her head, the routine culprit locks drifting across her cheeks. “With what’s been going on it’s going to send a message that we’re in disarray and need to start from scratch.”

      “I think losing four brands and our MD is going to tell the market that.”

      Richard stretched his arms and yawned loudly. “Ok Amelia, talk to Ted, but you’re not poaching him. If you want his input you get it done down there.”

      This was more than Amelia expected and she didn’t bristle at his overbearing tones; she’d long ago acknowledged his pre-eminence. It was only recently that

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