The Proposal

Based on Rumpelstiltskin by the Brothers Grimm


“Bankrupt?”
The office walls closed in on the businessman, the aroma of paper and plastic replaced with the now reminiscent smell of a mortuary.
“I’m afraid so Mr. Talbot.” confirmed the Bank Manager.
Blood drained from his face while he clutched the single sheet of sweaty paper in his hands. If this was what death dealt in, he hadn’t a penny to pay - instead his heart and soul was left to flounder then sink in a river of debt.
To drown in limbo would be a blessing compared to this.
“Do you have any immediate family that may be able to help?”
“No. I only have my daughter - she’s…she’s studying right now.”
“Ah, yes. Business if I remember correctly?”
“That’s right.”
“Perhaps she may be able to help you more than you think?”
“She certainly has her head screwed on. Knows where to place her eggs I might say.” His thoughts began to trail. Stuffing the bankruptcy letter in his pocket he chewed nervously at his fingers.
“Mr Talbot?”
He stood up and excused himself, “I have to go.”
“Of course. But please, if there is anything you find out keep us informed. I’m sorry we can’t be of more help - but there really is nothing more we can do based on the figures.”
“I understand…leave it with me.”

The next day he decided to approach his Master of Freemasons, and asked the man if he would be interested in a proposition.
“You want to offer your daughter’s services to run my business? Who do you think I am, Sir Alan Sugar?”
“She’s gold…really - a natural.”
“So why can’t she save your own company?”
“I’ve not told her. I can’t, it would break her heart. All I’m asking is for a share - I will guarantee she will double your profits within a month.”
“Double you say?” He rubbed his chin at the prospect. “Bring her over to the company tomorrow fully suited. If your daughter is as clever as you say she is, I have just the test for her.”
When the businessman’s daughter arrived at the Master Freemason’s company the next day, he placed her in an office full of accountancy books and other business details. He explained, “I hear you have a natural head for business. I’d like to see a proposal on doubling my profit. You have 24 hours - if you succeed I shall make sure both you and your father are rewarded. Your father needs it, seeing as he’s now bankrupt.”
The businessman’s blood boiled at the Freemason’s cruel jab.
Shocked at the thought of her father losing everything he had worked hard to build, she sat down at the desk as he attempted to explain. “Lucy…”
“I reckon it’ll make her work…that little bit harder.” the Freemason replied as he guided him out of the room, “Don’t you think?”

*
She worked all through the night.
Burned out she began to weep at the prospect of bringing the Freemason’s company more profit. Her confidence was waning somewhat – she felt that she had fallen into an impossible situation, in the same way her father had.
Drifting, she awoke to the sound of a Janitor cleaning the office.
At first she felt a little vulnerable, until he asked politely, “Sorry to startle you. Does your bin need emptyin’?”
Small in stature, his overall appearance was even less alarming.
“Oh….” she replied looking down at the bin under her desk, “No…you’re alright.” she added tipping it upside down.
The Janitor smiled, “So you’re one of new ones?”
“Temp.”
“I see. I’d get used to the late evenings then - Mr. Cunningham’s employees are always working after hours. Temp or not.”
“Really. He often has young students working out a business plan does he?”
“Oh no…just the employees in general. Overtime I guess.” The Janitor mentioned as he leaned forward on his mop.
There was an awkward silence.
“So…he has you on his books?”
“A proposal.”
“Mmm. I’m pretty good with them myself.”
The businessman’s daughter screwed her face slightly.
The Janitor knew right away what she was thinking, “Yeah I know…why am I mopping floors and cleaning toilets?”
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I earn less for less stress. Working out shit is just a hobby to me.” he leaned in, the businessman’s daughter pulling the books closer to herself. “May I?”
Before long he was sitting down and pouring over the books and paperwork while she explained what Mr Cunningham wanted.
“If I had a week, maybe I could do something - but 24 hours? I’m not that good.” she explained as the Janitor continued to study the documents.
He smirked to himself as though he was reading a humorous article or filling out a crossword. “What would you give me if I wrote the perfect business plan?”
“You’re kidding me right?”
“Nope. I could double the profits no problem based on what I’ve just looked at.”
“I tell you what - you can have my phone number if you write it up for me by the morning.”
The Janitor, pulling his best De Niro face and sat back in his chair. “Deal.”

Within a few hours he’d written the proposal and Lucy presented it to the owner of the company.
He replied with an ignorant ‘Hmph’ then introduced her to a larger and what seemed like a warmer office. She was once again given the task of writing a proposal.
“Triple the profits and I’ll see you rewarded.”
Perplexed, she was about to query his last promise before he left.
She hadn’t been working long before the Janitor arrived and of course offered his services.
“What do I get in return?”
She smiled teasingly, “Oh I don’t know…maybe a drink.”
The proposal was written within three hours and presented the next morning to the head of the company.
Once again, he looked at the proposal and then Lucy - this time more suspiciously. “Follow me.” he said.
Directed to an even larger, warmer office full of files, the businessman’s daughter was once again set an impossible task. “Let me guess,“ she asked, “Quadruple?”
Mr Cunningham grinned and left the room.
She unbuttoned her shirt slightly and poured herself some water from the dispenser. The heat in the room had already made her more than uncomfortable.
This time she didn’t even bother to grab a file from the shelf, but simply doodled on a sheet of paper until the Janitor arrived.
“What do you have to offer me this time?”
Biting her nail, she paused for thought. “I’m not sure I have anything left to give.”
“Really?” He edged closer, unsettling her. She placed her hand to her neck as she nervously took a deep breath. “Then you must promise me…my first child.” he whispered into her ear.
In an instant she was slammed hard, face down into the table - the plastic cup of water knocked to the floor. There was no way she could move, pinned down by the man’s surprising strength for someone of such a small build. She attempted to turn her head on the table as the pressure in her ears built. A tinnitus ring followed as the pressure seemed to increase, deafening the man’s almost rhythmic chanting. All she could tell was that he had begun to say a word, perhaps his name, in which he repeated over and over again.

She awoke the next morning - a single line of blood had edged its way around her caked and stained mouth, the paperwork now stuck to her face as she raised her head from the desk. The proposal lay written and neatly presented in front of her. Sick to the stomach, she was surprised at the little pain she felt elsewhere - just a dull, numb feeling that coursed through her body, as though she had simply awoke from a bad dream.
As she struggled to stand, the office began to focus a little more. What she couldn’t understand was that she was still neatly dressed with no evidence of any attack and violation, other than her nosebleed that could have been caused from hitting the table as she nodded off, or simply the stifling heat of the room.
Her stomach turned at the realisation of what may or may not have happened. She ran to the nearest ladies and washed her face. Leaving a note for the owner of the company with the proposal, she ran home contemplating whether to visit her GP or not. It was as though nothing had happened, only a memory of something lucid that had already begun to fade.

The next day she visited her father.
“You did it.” he said forcing a cheque in her hand and holding her by the forearms, “I’m so proud of you Lucy. With this we can start afresh - you can complete your studies, even start your own business. Hell, you may not have to ever work again with that amount of money.”
“You should have told me Dad.”
He let go of her, “I know. I just didn’t want to worry you - I was so desperate I didn’t know what else to do. You’ve been doing so well…”
“…well enough to save the family business.”
Ashamed he replied, “Yes.”
“The situation you put me in Dad. Do you have any idea…” she broke.
“Lucy…I…” he sat her down and placed his arm around his daughter. “I’m so sorry - it was wrong of me. I was just so desperate - it was either the proposals or thrown into the Thames with a pair of concrete slippers.”
She looked at him and pulled away slightly, “What do you mean?”
Nervously her father toyed with teeth and tongue then placed his head in his hands.
“You owed that man money didn’t you?”
“After everything Mum said! How could you!?”
“I had no choice.”
“Seems about right - it’s all you ever say.”
“I don’t owe him anything anymore.” he replied.
“No…you don’t, thanks to your daughter.” She pulled away from him further, “Just go Dad - I really don’t need this right now.”
He stood for a moment wanting to say more and then left the room.
She stared at the cheque in her hands. It was certainly a generous amount of money, but still not enough to put a smile back on her face.

Two weeks passed and Lucy had returned to her student house.
One day, while she was busy working on a project proposal there was a knock at her door.
A man stood, no more than five foot three dressed in casual attire.
The recognition built and Lucy’s eyes widened.
“There are people in this house - all I have to do is call for help.”
“I’m only here for what I’m owed.” he said.
“You want money - fine, you can have it. You can have the lot.”
“I don’t want your money Lucy. I want what is owed to me.”
She brought the door to a sufficient gap and spoke through it to the Janitor, “I know what you did to me. Now you leave my premises right now, or I’ll call the police.”
“You wouldn’t want to do that.”
“Oh…I would, believe me - and I’ll tell them everything when they get here.”
“No…you wouldn’t. Your father has too much to lose to Mr Cunningham.”
She glared at the Janitor, “You bastard.” she snapped.
The man looked at her blankly. “He wouldn’t want to hear that his Janitor put together the proposals now would he?”
Lucy’s blood boiled at the prospect, “Leave my father out of this.”
“Like he left you out of his business?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your father’s business. He cut you out of the whole deal from the day it was put together. You and your Mother.”
“That’s not true.”
“Oh but it is…” replied the Janitor. “Because I put the proposal together, the whole business plan, even the accounts. Oh, and life assurance.”
Speechless Lucy looked at the Janitor with utter contempt.
“Must be even harder to take with him asking you to save him from bankruptcy?”
Her breathing increased as she began to shake.
“Now, you give me what I’m owed.” he asked.
“What! What do you want!?”
He leaned in closer to the gap in the door, “My first child.” he whispered.
Her stomach turned and then kicked. She opened her mouth and doubled over slightly, gripping the door handle.
It did happen, she thought. I hadn’t imagined it after all.
But she wished she had as her belly swelled slightly under her hand to what would normally be the sign of three months.
“I’ll do anything but…please…” she tried to contain her agony without alarming her housemates, “Don’t do this.” she added, shocked at what was happening to her body.
“I will give you one week.”
“One…one week?”
“Yes. One week to remember my name.”
As soon as he left the pain was no more. Pulling herself up by the door handle, which remained tightly in her grip - she shut, bolted and latched the door. Hearing one of her roommates come down the stairs she made a quick beeline for her room.
One week to remember his name. She could barely remember the incident - all but convinced it had never happened. But now, growing inside her was another life - something that was now being encouraged to grow at an alarming rate.


*
The first thing she decided to do was visit Mr. Cunningham and ask him about the Janitor he had employed.
“I don’t deal with the riff-raff Miss Talbot. I’m the man in the tower - no need for me to be mingling with cleaners.”
“This man was employed by your company - someone who should have been scrutinised regardless of his position. It shouldn’t make a difference!”
“Calm down Miss Talbot.” he replied, “What has this man done?”
Lucy thought for a moment, “He…he attacked one of my friends - the other night when we were out. I recognised him from working here when I was putting your proposals together.”
“I see.” He held down the loudspeaker and dialled his secretary.
“Clara, could you do me a favour,” he asked, “Pull up all the files we have on every male Cleaner and Janitor employed here.”
“One second.” The voice on the other end replied.
Lucy sat nervously awaiting the information to come back to him via the loud speaker.
“Mr Cunningham, the records are showing five Cleaners and one Janitor, but they’re all female.”
“Okay…thanks Clara - that’s all I need to know.” He released the button and sat back in his chair.
“But that can’t be - unless this man has been masquerading somehow.”
“As security?”
“Yes - why not?”
“I have no security Miss Talbot, it’s ran via computers and monitors.”
Her heart sank.
“You must have dreamt it.”
“No! I didn’t dream anything - I saw the man here at this company.”
“Miss Talbot, I suggest you go home. Tell your friend you’ve tried your best and that next time someone tries it on with her – tell her to kick him in the bollocks. That hurts me just saying it.”
“Tries it on? She was attacked!”
Mr Cunningham sat quietly in his large, leather swivel chair glaring at her.
“Fine.” she snapped as she shoved the chair back and left his office.
That day she continued to try and remember the man’s name. She knew full well that he had said it, more than once - he had repeated it over and over as she lost consciousness. But it was a name that for some reason had evaded her memory.
A week later the man returned.
“Well - do you remember my name?”
Lucy gave every name under the sun, and when she arrived at the last name and failed, she doubled over once again - her stomach growing another three months.
“You have one more week. If you still can’t remember my name in that time - I will take what is rightfully mine.”

She continued to search desperately for any similar cases that may lead to the identity of her tormentor. Her search was hopeless. As the final day approached Lucy began to fall more and more into her own thoughts, reliving the terrible experience that she had convinced herself hadn’t happened. All she saw was the Janitor’s face - at first a face that was both comforting and reassuring. There was a kindness there that only intensified the horror of his true nature.
She remembered the tone of his voice more than anything. It had lulled her into a false sense of security and convinced her that her proposals would be written for what appeared such a small cost. She blamed herself from the flirtation; the possibility of offering the man a little more than expected. But there was a hidden charm that Lucy detected behind the Janitor’s confident looks.
This was a man who seemed to be whiling away the hours cleaning, rather than building his own business. He clearly had a brain on him, yet treated his job purely as…
Observation, thought Lucy. The job was no more than a study. He was the Janitor, but in some twisted fashion he was also the surveillance. He had the keys to the house, he had access to every camera in the building and by the flick of a button could switch them off. He was invisible and everything was of benefit to him.
Then she thought for one moment. It hadn’t even crossed her mind to find out what the proposal actually was. There was no time to even glance through it before handing it over. But it was accepted, and in that moment was all that mattered in saving her father’s business.
Now, in the final forty-eight hours, finding out exactly what had been proposed was just as important. There was hope that it may lead to the Janitor’s identity.

Lucy had never committed a crime in her life.
It was one in the morning and even after she had found herself rummaging through the company files in search of the proposals, it didn’t feel wrong at all. What she did feel though was fear. There was every chance the Janitor was still here, despite what the company owner had told her.
Once she had found the proposals she viewed them by torchlight.
The documentations were heavy - over two hundred pages each, more than enough to churn out in one night. Lucy’s curiosity in how one person could write so much in such a short period of time began to take hold. Their weight slumped down onto the table and Lucy opened the first proposal at page one.
The page was crammed with such small text and leading that Lucy’s eyes strained under the poor light. Then, to her horror, she noticed that it was simply a stream of text repeated along the first line with no spaces at all. No jargon, not even a boilerplate. It was a single word simply joined together, one after the other.
The whole paragraph was the same.
Worse still - scanning down the page she frantically thumbed through all of the documents realising that the word had been cut and pasted throughout.
It’s Marketing 101, thought Lucy as she slammed the document shut. One of the first words she learned on her business degree.

…fitbenefitbenefitbenefitbenefitbenefitbenefitbenefitbenefitbenefitbenefitbene
fitbenefitbenefitbenefitbenefitbenefitbenefitbenefitbenefitbenefitbenefitbenefit
benefitbenefitbenefitbenefitbenefitbenefitbenefitbenefitben…

“Benefit.” she muttered under her breath, “Stress benefit, benefit, benefit.”
It was the only word that a true businessman would need to know. There was no shying away from it - it’s the magic word. The formula. The all-important word that is the very key to success and the meaning of life to the profit makers.
Screw everyone and screw everyone over, no matter the cost. Lucy felt as though she’d become the literal representation.
The word leapt from the pages of the proposals. It triggered the memory of that dreadful night and the ordeal she had gone though. Then to her horror the word became the voice of the Janitor as he repeated it over and over again.

She awoke the next morning in a cold sweat.
Clutching her belly she hobbled downstairs, tired and weary. She thought of the life growing inside her, warming to the idea of having her own child. She scratched her neck, a rash having appeared from her stress and anxiety of possibly losing the baby.
The smell of coffee picked her up slightly. Just as she was about to pour herself a cup there was a knock at the door.
Standing for a moment, she continued to pour and took a sip. Then she hobbled to the door and opened it.
The man stood there, briefly looking past her to survey the kitchen while Lucy stood in the doorway.
“I hope you’re looking after yourself Lucy?”
“I’m doing fine.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want the baby put at risk.”
“Don’t patronise me. Just do what you must.”
“So…you haven’t found out my name yet?”
Lucy pondered for a moment attempting to block the memory of that awful night. She knew - she just didn’t know whether to believe. But if this man could do the things he had already done by will alone, personification was indeed possible.
“Your name…” she thanked herself it wasn’t Death knocking at her door. “Your name is Benefit.”
As soon as the words were spoken Lucy doubled over. No! she was so sure she was right, the baby inside her moving, then the pain of her belly decreasing in size, rather than expanding. She then realised there would be no birth, that this phantom pregnancy would vanish in the same way it had arrived. By will alone.
Once she had straightened herself the man had disappeared, leaving her in the doorway to contemplate whether she had been cheated in some way. A single tear ran down her cheek, the warmth from her belly having now vanished. A warmth Lucy had now grown used to bringing into the world.
Maybe she had met Loss after all.