The Director beamed back with a friendliness he didn’t feel. But he was satisfied that a dangerous peak in the curve had been passed. The control rods were now safely back in the pile. ‘Dick, will you place yourself at Mr Spigett’s disposal? Naturally we do not want him to leave the meeting at an important time like this.’ Spigett seemed pleased at the implication that he was indispensable.
Dick walked round the table and stood by the canning magnate, who told him quietly what to do. Now that Spigett’s sense of importance was established, he was back in his element. It almost made up for any business he might lose if they were to find that more of the stuff was contaminated…
When Manson saw that Ganin was coloured, he was careful to conceal his feelings until he had an opportunity of finding out what the others felt about it. So he was polite but withdrawn, ready, when the occasion arose, to discuss the matter at length behind Ganin’s back but determined to leave the initiative to someone else. He had already felt the Director’s critical eye on him on more than one occasion. As it happened, much to his annoyance none of the others even appeared to notice Ganin was a black man at all. Which was odd, because the pigmentation in Mike’s skin was exceptionally dark.
Simmel had made an extra place for Ganin between Heatherfield and Mr Rupert; and Heatherfield was chatting to him while Seff talked in an undertone to Frank Gresham. The Director was standing at the window with Seff, and Gatt was poring over some plans of Newlands Steel Works, with Alec Manson half concentrating on the plans and half wondering what Seff was saying to the Director. It was unusually hot for a spring afternoon, and they were all quite glad of the fan.
‘I hear,’ said Heatherfield to the new-comer, ‘that you’ve just got back from South Africa. How is it down there?’
Mike gave a little satirical laugh and shook his head in perplexity. ‘Man, it’s a real mess! I don’t know! What’s going to happen? What will they do?’ He rubbed the tip of his thumb across his lips. ‘If I hadn’t had some pretty high-powered introductions, I doubt whether I could have got into the country at all.’
‘I’m really quite surprised you went,’ Heatherfield admitted. ‘Doesn’t it make you very angry, all this business?’
Ganin smiled, and there was much wisdom in that smile. ‘Why get angry? People are always getting angry at other people’s stupidity; but one form of stupidity is just as bad as another. It’s a human characteristic. Colour prejudice is only stupidity. And fear.’
‘What about these articles I hear you’re writing? What are you going to say?’
‘I’m going to say that people can’t solve problems by ganging up on anybody.’ He grinned. ‘I think my paper is going to be kind of disappointed; they’re probably expecting some pretty hard-hitting stuff. Well, they’re wrong. What would be the use? It would only be adding to the bitterness. South Africa, as I see it, is a problem, not a battlefield. I don’t think there’s any thing basically evil about Segregation. It’s one way out. But it’s not the right way, and I shall say so.’
‘And now,’ said Hargreaves, resuming his place at the head of the table, ‘we come to Mr Ganin. And first of all I would like to say, on behalf of us all, how very grateful I am that he has come forward — and so quickly! For, as you know, he only landed at Liverpool this morning.’ There were murmurs of assent. ‘Mr Ganin?’
Ganin spoke softly and modestly, but not timorously. ‘It’s very good of you to express such a sentiment. But I can assure you that anyone else would have done the same.’ His eyes looked very intense, their dark centres and white surrounds standing out clearly against his dark skin. They were the eyes of a friendly and capable man. ‘I’ll tell you about the row at Newlands Steel,’ he said. ‘Would that be a good way to start?’
The Director said: ‘I want you to tell us whatever you think is relevant, and I want you to tell us in your own way.’
Ganin smiled and Went on: ‘I went to Newlands Steel about three years ago, mostly in the capacity of radiographer. But I had other, more general, duties. It’s quite a small company and everybody mucks in.
‘Well, let’s be frank about it — from the word go, a lot of people didn’t like the colour of my skin. But I thought they’d get over it, so I stayed. It was pretty unpleasant at times, and I should have realised that if people are going to be all that unpleasant about something that a man can’t help, there’s probably things wrong with them in other ways as well. But I thought it was just ordinary colour prejudice — and you get used to that if you’ve always been at the receiving end.’ His audience was very still, and only the sound of the fan punctuated his sentences. ‘However, I was mistaken,’ he said. ‘There was a lot wrong with Newlands Steel — and I fancy there still is. And one of the things that was wrong with it was the fact that the works manager used to do quite a lot of business on the side. He was able to do so because the accounting was extremely bad, and the man who was supposed to be in charge of the stockyard was always open to an act of friendship — like, for instance, the large television set he so mysteriously acquired, or the time his car was practically rebuilt from new sheet-steel when he wrapped the body round a tree one night. This sort of thing went on all the time, and nearly everyone was working some kind of fiddle or other.’
He took a sip of water and continued: ‘Newlands is not just a smelting works. They dabble in all sorts of things — and make a mess of most of them. If they make money, I don’t know how they manage it — perhaps they don’t have to; maybe it’s run in order to lose money for some rich guy. If so, it must be a smash hit! Anyway, nobody did much work while I was there; they seemed to expend most of their energy in trying to lever me out. Well, I didn’t take much notice; I was too busy and too interested in my job. This was my first real appointment in industry after getting my physics degree, and I wanted to make the most of it. So whatever went on around me I did my best to ignore it.’ He looked down at the blotter in front of him. ‘Perhaps if I had taken more interest in other people’s affairs, this whole awful thing would never have happened.’
‘You can’t start blaming yourself for that,’ said Sir Robert gently. ‘You had a job to do, and you got on with it.’
‘Well, if I’d known… but of course I didn’t. One never does, until it’s too late.’ He snapped out of the mood of self — recrimination and continued: ‘Yes, I got on with the job, which was to inspect all the steel we made and reject it if necessary. And, brother, did we turn out some lousy steel! There were so many cracks that you couldn’t throw it all out. And most of the stuff I condemned they still sold — and got away with it. I hate to think how many pieces of machinery must have come unstuck because of us! One can only thank the Lord above that they don’t use too much sheet steel in the manufacture of aeroplanes!’
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ said Gatt, ‘but you say they used to experiment from time to time. What sort of experiments?’
Ganin thought for a moment. ‘Well, they used to take on special jobs. They couldn’t do them, mark you; but they were great triers were Newlands! For instance, they were asked by some company or other to produce a special, high-tensile sheet steel that would stand an unusual amount of bending before it snapped — I don’t know what it was for. Well, most of our stuff was of such poor quality that if you bent it much it just stayed bent! But we had a go, though nothing came of it. Then, like many other things, it was removed from the scene — I expect the works manager sold it round the corner for scrap and put the proceeds in his pocket. Scrap was all it was good for, anyway. But those were the sort of “special jobs” we undertook.’