She called it up and brought up the most recent profit and loss account. She ran her finger down the screen, silently mouthing the figures. Total income was well down on the previous year, but expenses were several hundred thousand dollars higher.
The payroll and the company's Medicare payments made up the bulk of the outgoings. She closed the file and called up the report her father used for forecasting cash flows. She chewed the inside of her lip as she studied the figures. If the Middle Eastern order came through for the MIDAS system, the cash flow would keep the company going for at least three months.
But that was purely a forecast; the money, and indeed the order, had yet to be received.
Mersiha called up the balance sheet. Over the months she'd been following her father's financial problems, it had been the balance sheet which had caused her the most headaches. At first she hadn't been able to make sense of the lists of assets and liabilities, but she'd spent hours in the school library reading every economics and business book she could get her hands on.
It had been hard going, but gradually she'd worked out how to read the company's records and now she could tell almost at a glance how the company was doing. Its current account showed a substantial drop on the previous month, and accounts receivable had also dropped. Only capital equipment had stayed the same, and Mersiha knew that was pretty much a hypothetical figure anyway. Who would want to buy second-hand manufacturing equipment if CRW couldn't sell its own products?
While the assets were considerably down, the company's liabilities continued to rise, and it clearly wouldn't be long before they crossed over and the firm had a negative worth. Mersiha felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She checked the financial projections every week or so, and the picture was getting steadily worse. She wished that there was something she could do to help her father, but she knew she was powerless. She was just a kid.
She'd give anything to be rich, to be able to write her father a cheque big enough to solve all his problems. She hated to see her father unhappy, hated it with a vengeance.
She called up QUICKEN, the program her father used to follow his personal finances. He had three bank accounts, and she checked the balances in all of them, then she went through his credit card billings and household expenses. As usual the biggest purchases had been made by Katherine. Several pairs of shoes, a gold bracelet, lots of clothes. The company's financial problems hadn't persuaded her to cut back at all; she was still spending as if there were no tomorrow. Even so, there was plenty of money in the bank accounts, and the house was almost paid for. It was only the company that was in trouble. That, at least, was something.
Mersiha switched off the computer and the monitor and crept back upstairs to her bedroom. She lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, trying to work out what she could do to help.
Mersiha was in the kitchen when the telephone rang. 'I'll get it!' she yelled, and picked up the receiver. It was Dr Brown. 'Oh, hiya, Dr Brown. What's up?' she said, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a carton of orange juice with her free hand.
'Hello, Mersiha? No school today?'
'Study period,' she said. 'The school doesn't mind if we do it at home. It's an honour system.'
'Well, make sure you study hard. Is your mother there?'
'Sure,' Mersiha said. She pressed the 'hold' button and put the receiver back on the wall. She filled a glass with orange juice and put the carton back in the refrigerator before walking through to the hall. 'Katherine! It's Dr Brown,' she called upstairs. {Catherine was in the bedroom, reorganising one of her many dress-filled closets.
'Okay, honey, I'll take it up here.'
Mersiha took a sip of orange juice and went back into the kitchen. Buffy scratched at the back door and Mersiha opened it for her. The dog sat there, her tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth, a chewed frisbee at her feet.
Mersiha bent down to pick up the plastic disc, and as she did she heard Katherine's voice over the phone's intercom. 'Hello?'
Katherine said. Mersiha let the frisbee fall to the ground and went over to the phone to switch off the intercom.
'Katherine? It's me.'
'Hello, Art.'
'Can we talk?'
Mersiha froze, her finger just inches away from the button.
Behind her, Buffy whined. Mersiha felt her stomach grow cold. They were going to talk about her, she was sure of it. She closed her eyes, fearing the embarrassment to come.
'I think so. Tony's still at the office.'
'Good. Katherine, I have to see you.'
'Now?'
Mersiha tensed. Whatever Dr Brown was concerned about, it must be serious.
'Can you get away?'
'Tony'll be here in an hour.'
'Please.'
'Tomorrow. What about tomorrow?'
'It's important. I need to see you now.' Mersiha opened her eyes. She'd never heard the psychiatrist talk this way before. He sounded like a small boy, pleading for attention. Her stomach grew colder and she clasped her arms around her chest as if trying to warm herself.
'Okay. I'll try.'
Mersiha heard the line go dead. She stared at the telephone.
Buffy whined and pushed the frisbee with her nose. Mersiha wondered what Dr Brown was going to say to Katherine, and she had a sudden feeling of dread. Whatever it was, it couldn't have been good news. Bad news, she knew, always travelled fast.
The telephone speaker began to make a buzzing sound. Mersiha switched it off. She heard {Catherine's high heels on the stairs and she rushed out of the back door.
Freeman turned his Chevrolet Lumina into the driveway and sounded his horn as he saw Mersiha at the far end of the garden.
She waved half-heartedly and carried on playing with the dog.
Freeman frowned. Usually Mersiha came running up to greet him and more often than not she'd carry his briefcase for him.
He parked the car in front of the house and walked over to where she was sitting under a large willow. 'Hi, pumpkin, what's up?'
Mersiha shrugged. 'Nothing much.'
Buffy wandered over to Freeman and put her head up, asking to be stroked. Freeman patted her on the head, his eyes on Mersiha. 'Trouble at school?' he asked.
Mersiha shook her head. 'No, school's fine.' She kept her eyes averted as if unwilling to look him in the face. Freeman squatted down so that his head was almost level with hers.
'Anything I can do?' he asked. She looked up and Freeman could see tears in her eyes. 'What is it?' he said. He was suddenly seized with a feeling of panic. Mersiha never cried. Never. 'Is Katherine okay?'
Mersiha threw her arms around Freeman and hugged him tight. He could feel her hot breath against his neck. 'Don't ever leave me, please. Please don't leave me.'
Freeman squeezed her. 'I won't leave you, pumpkin.'
'No matter what?'
'Of course.' He untangled her arms from around his neck.
'Has something happened?'