In Father's Footsteps

By Michael Galvin

ADULT CONTENT
If you are likely to take offence at the sexual relationships in the run of the storyline – this is not for you.
If you are looking for the growing momentum of a fast- moving story with twists and turns right up to its conclusion – this is for you.

The story revolves around the knitwear, textile/fashion industry, a highly competitive cutthroat business.

Simon Meradith’s world is taken apart by the unexpected death of his father, a seemingly successful businessman in the fashion industry.
It emerges that Simon’s father’s suicide was due to the collapse of his business contrived by deceitful manipulation by a major competitor and a crooked banker.
His family has lost everything, father, business and family home, they are completely penniless.

Simon’s career unexpectedly sees him follow his father into the textile industry, and eventually, has an opportunity to avenge his bankruptcy and death.
He has outstanding success within the industry and marries a leading fashion model.

Life does not run smoothly when he is implicated as a murder suspect and looks to have been framed for the death of his secretary.
Stapleton, a deranged serving paratrooper fuelled by alcohol and haunted by past abuse, turns killer determined to hunt him down and kill him.
Stapleton is driven by delusion, jealousy and alcohol, and pursues Simon and with murderous intent.

The story has an intriguing fashion business background with intertwined relationships. It culminates in a thrilling chase by the manic killer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Galvin
• Release date: Sep 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370775231

Michael Galvin

Michael Galvin was born the seventh child in a strict catholic family. His father had spent several of his early years in a Franciscan monastery as a lay brother before marrying and Michael was the last hope of a deeply religious father to have one of his children take holy orders. Hence, he was pushed heavily in that direction. Michael did not follow the religious path but built a successful career with dual qualifications in Accountancy and Marketing. Before forming his own companies, he managed a Newspaper & Media Group and held directorships in several technology companies. He has been the author of many articles in trade magazines and had short stories read on the radio. Michael is married with two grown up children and four grandchildren.

Book preview

In Father’s Footsteps

By

Michael Galvin

In this work of fiction, the characters, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or they are used entirely fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Copyright Michael A. Galvin 2012

Published by Michael Galvin at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favourite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTYONE

END

Visit my website: https//:www.michaelgalvin.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

The warm sun burned down on Simon’s back. He wore his bright red school cap backward on his head to shade his neck leaving a mass of curly blond hair untidily sticking out from the front. With his blazer slung over his shoulder and a pile of books under the other arm he even managed a hefty kick at a pinecone laying on the pavement sending it scattering down the road.

A magpie scrambled from the carcass of a hedgehog and flew into the branches of a tree watching as Simon passed before returning to his meal.

Although hot and thirsty he was in a cheerful mood. He had sat his last exam today and was now free of school providing he had made the grades; but now for the long wait for the results. Whistling happily, he made his way home.

He guessed that he would be the first home today as his father was away in New York and Mum would be out collecting Katherine from infant school. Patrick and Joe would be making their own way home from junior school later. No one would be home and he would be free to play his music at full blast he thought and his pace quickened in anticipation.

Dad had been so bad tempered and moody through pressure of business that lately it had been prudent to keep out of his way, anyway he didn’t understand that you could study and listen to pop music.

He turned into the tree-lined avenue leading to his home. This was a prosperous suburban area the houses generously detached from each other with lawns that swept down to the road.

‘You’re home early Simon.’ Mrs. Dixon was on her hands and knees planting out a flowerbed as Simon Meredith passed the end of her garden.

It was a warm June day and Simon was whistling happily. ‘Hello Mrs. Dixon, I’ve finished my last exam and left school today.’ ‘How do you think you’ve done?’ ‘I’ve got my fingers crossed. Trouble is the results aren’t out ‘till August and I can’t keep them crossed that long!’ Simon’s face wrinkled into an even broader grin. She watched as the tall blond lad swaggered happily down the road towards his house and then returned to her backbreaking task. How that lad has grown, she muttered to herself, he must be well over six-foot now.

‘Katherine, put those down.’ Katrina Meredith still spoke with a slight Danish accent even though she had lived in England for almost twenty years. She grabbed Katherine’s hand and pulled her towards the supermarket checkout. ‘But mummy pl...eease, can I have one of those?’ The five-year-old pointed toward a stack of sweets. ‘Oh, all right then, but quickly or we won’t be home before the boys.’

It took only minutes for Katrina to pack the shopping in the car and start for home. ‘Will daddy be home?’ I don’t think tonight darling, may be tomorrow.’ ‘Is America a long way away?’.‘Yes dear, a long way, but he did ring and speak to you at the weekend, didn’t he?’

‘Can I play Simon’s records when we get home?’ ‘I don’t think he would like that do you? Remember the last time you didn’t put them back in their right sleeves.’

Katrina’s mind drifted to Simon. She became unaware of the little five-year-old chatterbox in the back seat. There was no doubt that Simon had worked hard at his studies this past year. He had hardly gone out at all, even though he was in constant demand by the girls in his year. She knew he desperately wanted to please his father. Mike was expecting big things from him. He was pushing him to get a good qualification, something that had eluded him, and then join the family business. Mike had sounded very subdued on the phone at the weekend. She knew how he hated being away from home; anyhow he would be home soon or so she hoped. There was a mountain of post for him.

Simon as he turned into the driveway of the house and took a kick at another large pinecone that was lying on the drive, sending it crashing into the double garage doors. As he approached to give it another kick he could see smoke creeping from under the door. Getting closer he thought he could hear an engine running so he pushed at the door. It was locked. ‘Mom, is that you?’ He pressed his ear to the door. Yes, an engine could be clearly heard now. He shouted again. There was no reply. His heart began to thump and he threw his books to the ground and raced through the front door. ‘Is anyone at home?’ He shouted into the house, his voice in a high pitched anxious tone. There was still no reply. Simon dashed through the house and out to the back of the garage.

Exhaust fumes were pouring under the door and it was locked, locked from the inside. There was a moment of panic. He looked about for something to break a pane in the glass panel of the door and grabbed a stone from the rockery. The glass shattered and he pushed his hand through the jagged gap to turn the key that was still in the inside of the lock. He didn’t feel the pain as the jagged glass ripped into his hand. Once opened, clouds of choking grey exhaust fumes bellowed out. Standing back for a second, he tried to wave the smoke away from his face.

At the first attempt to reach the car, he was driven back by the fumes. Second time with the aid of a damp flannel over his nose and mouth, he managed to reach his father’s Jaguar. Feeling his way through the murky gloom he worked his way to the front of the car and pulled at the door. There was a hose attached to the exhaust that extended around the car and through the driver’s window. The car was locked. He grabbed at the hose and yanked it from the gap in the window and threw it away to the back of the garage, still belching out fumes. The fumes were getting to him now and he was beginning to cough and choke. Managing to squeeze his bleeding hand through the narrow gap in the window he released the door lock.

Mike Meredith was slumped up against the car door and as it opened, fell lifeless back into Simon’s arms. Switching off the engine he held his father under the arms, dragging him from the car. A shaft of sunlight shone through the door illuminating the exit and the swirls of poisonous smoke danced in its spotlight. Mike Meredith was a big man; tall and thick set. Simon could barely drag his weight but somehow, he seemed to summon up the extra strength to drag him across to the door.

Mrs. Dixon was the first on the scene, having heard the cries for help she entered through the open front door. Out the back she found Simon slumped under the weight of his father’s body, struggling for breath. The blood that was gushing from a cut on his hand was smeared across his face and all over the front of his white shirt. When Katrina Meredith turned her car into the road and saw a police car and ambulance outside the house her heart leapt in her chest. Mike was away in The States, Billy and Sam wouldn’t be home from school yet. It could only be Simon. She pulled the car into the curb and dashed across the front lawn, leaving Katherine still strapped in her seat in the back of the car. As she entered the front door Simon was being carried out on a stretcher. Over his face was an oxygen mask. Then, through the open back door, she saw Mike lying on the paving. They were kneeling over him, thumping and pumping his chest, trying desperately to revive him.

Janet Dixon seeing Katrina rushed up to her. Her eyes were full of tears and there was an expression of horror on her face. Shaking uncontrollably, she blurted out between sobs, in unfinished sentences. ‘Simon found Mike....he was in the car....the garage was full of smoke.’ Simon’s eyes were open wide when they carried him past Katrina on the stretcher. They stopped momentarily. His blue eyes were streaming and they had a despairing look. Katrina hugged him and then rushed to Mike’s side. She was crying now. ‘No, oh no. Don’t let it be so. Please tell me it’s a dream.’ Mike was still and lifeless.

They still worked on Mike in the ambulance, all the way to the hospital, even though he was obviously dead. Katrina sat helplessly watching and holding Simon’s hand. Simon was rushed into the hospital emergency unit and a doctor came to the ambulance and certified Mike as dead. They left Katrina with Mike for a few minutes on her own, to say her goodbye

Katrina Meredith had not been fully aware of the extent of the pressures that Mike had been under in the business. He had kept everything to himself. Having expanded in the boom years now times were tough and he found that he had over extended himself. He was way over his head in debt. Mike had a keen business sense in knowing what the market wanted and the top price he could get for his garments, but he had no financial management skills. He had planned that Simon would provide this when he joined the business.

The business produced high quality knitwear from exclusive yarns that could be found in the top stores and boutiques throughout the world. The brand was much sought after. But then the cancellations came. The cost of the high-quality yarns used rocketed, squeezing margins and pushing the price of his already expensive garments beyond their marketable price. Meredith knitwear was bankrupt. Mike had tried to keep his business problems to himself as much as he could as he desperately fought to resurrect the situation. He spent more time away from home looking for orders to replace the cancellations and his nerves became more frayed. The writ that was waiting for him on his return for the repossession of the new machinery and other equipment in the factory was just too much for him to bear and he broke under the strain.

CHAPTER TWO

For as much as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground: earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to..... The words seemed to drift away. Simon stood by his mother at the graveside. She was gripping his hand so tightly for support that her nails dug into the back of his hand. It was the same hand that was now healing from breaking the glass. He would be left with a scar, a scar not so deep as the one he carried inside. For the knots that now tangled up inside him would never heal. The light oak coffin was slowly lowered into the grave. Walking from the grave Katrina sobbed on Simon’s shoulder, ‘Oh Simon, how could he? Why did he do this to us?’

The locks on the factory doors had been changed but Simon knew every inch of this building. Ignoring the legal notices plastered all over the building he had squeezed his slim body through an open skylight and dropped silently down to the floor. The Receiver would be in later today, sifting through everything. If there was anything personal or incriminating Simon wanted to get to it first.

The machines lay deadly silent. In all the years Simon could never remember the factory without the buzz of machinery. Bags of half finished batches of garments stood beside the linking and overlocking machines. The hand knitting machines had been stopped mid-run with half knitted lamb’s wool garments hanging from the needles. The expensive new automatic machines stood with cones of cashmere lay ready to run. There was a click as the time clock moved on to another minute. It showed seven fifty-five. On a normal day, there would have been a steady stream of workers waiting to punch their clock cards, but not today.

Mike’s desk was a mass of papers. The three weeks he’d been in New York hadn’t helped stem the growing mountain on his desk. The first thing he picked up was the silver-framed family photograph that stood on the desk. He was still numb from the events over the past few days. His hand trembled as he held the frame and he burst into tears. The smiling faces in the picture were no longer smiling now.

It took several minutes for him to get control of himself again. The haunting vision of his father’s face through the fumes kept flooding back and had hardly left him since the terrifying event. The office was separated from a larger outer office by a fully glazed partition. In the larger outer office were three desks and a large table for laying out samples. Two suitcases lay unopened on the sample table. From the flight labels, they contained the samples his father had taken with him. It seemed evident that his father had gone straight to the factory from the airport before going home.

He sifted through the desk drawers and removed any personal items belonging to his father. He then meticulously examined every piece of paper on his father’s desk, separating them into piles. There were rejection letters from attempts to fill the order book and an even greater volume of financial demands from suppliers, rates, water and electricity. The letters from the bank warranted a pile on their own. From the tone of these letters was the reason for the number of final demands. There had been a stop on the account. He wondered about the letters from the bank, he had always thought that his father had a good relationship with the manager.

There were a variety of other letters. Some were from an American Store Group, starting off with the confirmation of a large order and the delivery terms and ending up with a letter cancelling due to non-delivery according to those terms. It all looked as if his father had been in a complete mess. A continuing dialogue with the Wool Mill indicated that there was some dispute on the bulk order his father had placed to fulfill the American contract, to be called off in batches as production ran through. The supplier had apparently reneged on the agreement; a verbal agreement as it had been customary for them to make over the years. Then the price was hiked up to almost twice the agreed price. There was nothing amongst these papers that would seem incriminating or blemish his father’s character, albeit a tragic story of business failure.

The desk blotter was covered in drawings, notes and numbers. No doubt doodles as his father