Chapter 2 - The Numbers Behind the Screen

At ten the next morning, the office was too small for everyone.

Ruth sat behind Peter’s desk.

Callum stood by the filing cabinet.

Elliot had brought a laptop, extension cable, and the kind of expression he wore when he wanted numbers to behave.

Hassan sat beside Grace Bell.

The retired accountant from the screening introduced himself as Martin Shaw.

A local architect named Leila Moran leaned against the wall holding rolled plans she had not been asked to bring.

Callum looked around.

“This is ridiculous.”

Grace smiled.

“Good morning to you too.”

Ruth raised a hand.

“Ground rules.”

Callum sighed.

“No speeches. No promises. No one assumes the cinema stays. No one assumes it sells.”

Martin nodded.

“Useful.”

Ruth continued.

“We share enough information to assess options without exposing private employee data or anything legally sensitive.”

Callum looked at her.

“You cleared that with anyone?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know what’s legally sensitive?”

Ruth hated that he was right.

Elliot said, “I called Dad’s accountant.”

Everyone turned.

“You what?” Ruth asked.

“He can join by video in fifteen minutes.”

Callum stared.

“You did that last night?”

“Yes.”

“Without asking.”

Elliot looked at him.

“You want to have that argument now?”

Callum closed his mouth.

Ruth almost smiled.

Families learned irony slowly.

Martin asked for the last three years of management accounts.

Ruth handed him summaries.

He scanned.

Then frowned.

“What changed eighteen months ago?”

Hassan answered immediately.

“Streaming window changes.”

Martin looked up.

Hassan continued.

“Studios shortened exclusive runs. We lost some repeat business.”

Callum added.

“And concession costs rose.”

Grace asked, “What about memberships?”

Ruth looked at Hassan.

He shook his head.

“We don’t have one.”

Grace stared.

“No membership scheme?”

“No.”

Callum said, “Dad hated subscriptions.”

Martin smiled faintly.

“Your father is no longer the customer strategy.”

Ruth felt a small ache.

Callum looked away.

The accountant joined by video.

His name was Dev Patel.

He had handled Peter’s accounts for twenty-two years.

Ruth liked him immediately because he did not romanticize Peter.

“Your father was a difficult client.”

Callum laughed.

“Accurate.”

Dev reviewed the property structure.

Regent Cinemas Ltd operated the cinema.

Regent Property Holdings Ltd owned the building.

The siblings inherited both equally.

The operating company paid rent.

The property company used that income for mortgage, insurance, taxes, and capital reserves.

Elliot asked, “So is the cinema profitable if we remove rent?”

Dev frowned.

“That is the wrong question.”

Callum looked satisfied.

Dev continued.

“The building has a real economic cost. Free rent is a subsidy.”

Ruth nodded.

“So what’s the right question?”

“Whether the combined asset can support a viable use mix.”

Leila leaned forward.

“Exactly.”

Callum looked at her.

“You came here with an answer.”

“I came with a question.”

“What?”

“Why is half the upper floor unused?”

Ruth looked at Callum.

He shrugged.

Hassan answered.

“Old offices. Storage. One room leaks.”

Leila unrolled a rough floor plan.

“I asked the planning office for public records this morning.”

Callum laughed.

“You people work fast.”

Grace said, “You gave us two weeks.”

Leila pointed.

“The cinema occupies the ground floor and projection level. The upper rear section may be convertible to studios or offices, subject to access and fire compliance.”

Martin looked interested.

“Rental income?”

“Potentially.”

Callum crossed his arms.

“Potentially is doing a lot of work.”

Leila nodded.

“Yes.”

Ruth appreciated that nobody was selling certainty.

Dev asked for repair estimates.

Ruth showed the roof reports.

Leila scanned them.

“This is old.”

“How old?” Ruth asked.

“Four years.”

Callum frowned.

“Dad said the roof needed two hundred thousand.”

Leila looked at the document.

“This report estimated one hundred and eighty to two hundred and twenty for full replacement.”

“That’s what I said.”

Leila continued.

“But it also recommended phased repair if immediate replacement wasn’t possible.”

Hassan looked surprised.

“Dad only talked about replacement.”

Ruth felt another piece move.

Peter had edited risk too.

Not maliciously.

Perhaps because he believed full replacement was the only proper solution.

Callum looked irritated.

“Patching a failing roof isn’t a strategy.”

“No,” Leila said. “But it may buy time for financing.”

Grace asked about grants.

Leila nodded.

“The building has heritage significance. Not listed, but eligible for some local regeneration funds.”

Callum laughed.

“Grants.”

Grace looked at him.

“Yes.”

“You think government paperwork will save us?”

“No. I think financing stacks exist.”

Martin raised a hand.

“Before we build castles, let’s understand demand.”

He asked Hassan for attendance data.

Hassan had it.

Of course.

Weekly admissions by film.

Matinee versus evening.

Private hires.

School bookings.

Ruth stared.

“You track all this?”

“Dad asked me to.”

Callum looked surprised.

Hassan shrugged.

“He rarely used it.”

Martin reviewed.

Attendance was uneven.

But several categories performed well.

Classic screenings.

Children’s Saturday mornings.

Event cinema.

Local film nights.

Private hires.

The weakest were ordinary midweek showings of wide-release films.

Grace smiled.

“So programming is the problem.”

Hassan shook his head.

“Partly.”

Martin said, “Not problem. Opportunity.”

Callum looked at him.

“You’re already selling this.”

“No.”

Martin tapped the screen.

“I’m identifying segments.”

Ruth watched Callum.

He was defensive because the room was generating alternatives faster than he could dismiss them.

She understood.

He had spent months believing sale was the adult answer.

If another answer became plausible, he would have to confront both the hidden job offer and the possibility that certainty had made him careless.

That was painful.

Ruth did not want to humiliate him.

She wanted him to stay in the process.

“Callum.”

He looked at her.

“What would make you believe a non-sale option is worth testing?”

The room quieted.

He thought.

“Professional business plan.”

“Okay.”

“Real repair estimate.”

Leila nodded.

“Okay.”

“Written funding sources. Not people saying community shares like it’s magic.”

Grace wrote it down.

“Okay.”

“Management plan.”

Hassan looked at Ruth.

Callum continued.

“Dad ran this place six days a week. Ruth cannot become Dad.”

Ruth felt the sentence.

He was right.

She had spent the month since Peter’s death working almost every day.

Cleaning.

Ordering.

Covering shifts.

Answering suppliers.

Partly because things needed doing.

Partly because grief loved tasks.

“No,” she said. “I can’t.”

Callum looked at her.

Something softened.

Elliot asked, “What about the buyer deadline?”

Callum hesitated.

Then answered honestly.

“There isn’t one.”

Grace looked at Ruth.

Ruth nodded.

Callum continued.

“But Adrian says the consortium could move to another site.”

Martin said, “That is their risk.”

Callum’s jaw tightened.

“It is also ours if we lose a good offer.”

Ruth nodded.

“Yes.”

She turned to Grace.

“This pause has a cost.”

Grace agreed.

Callum looked surprised again.

Ruth continued.

“If the community proposal is not credible, we stop.”

Hassan nodded.

Martin nodded.

Grace nodded.

No one protested.

Callum’s shoulders lowered slightly.

They set deadlines.

Seven days for a preliminary structural assessment.

Ten days for a draft operating model.

Twelve days for community funding interest.

Fourteen days for the siblings to compare options.

No extension unless all three agreed.

Ruth wrote it on the whiteboard.

That made the pause real.

Not indefinite.

Not emotional.

A process.

When the meeting ended, Callum stayed.

He looked at Peter’s mug.

“You really think this can work?”

Ruth leaned back.

“I don’t know.”

He smiled bitterly.

“You keep saying that.”

“It’s the truth.”

He rubbed his face.

“I hate the idea of spending months failing.”

“So do I.”

“I hate the idea of turning down the offer and finding out Dad’s place wasn’t viable.”

“So do I.”

Callum looked at her.

“And I hate that you think I pushed the sale for the job.”

Ruth was quiet.

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Not at all?”

He looked away.

Then back.

“I liked knowing I had somewhere to go after the sale.”

That was the first honest version.

Ruth nodded.

“Thank you.”

His eyes filled with anger.

“At least the redevelopment had a future.”

Ruth heard what sat beneath it.

“What future do you have now?”

Callum laughed once.

“That’s not your problem.”

“No.”

He looked at her.

Then said, “Dad made me redundant without meaning to.”

Ruth stopped.

Callum had worked with Peter for fifteen years.

Not full-time at the cinema.

But property maintenance.

Commercial bookings.

Supplier negotiation.

He had built much of his work around their father’s companies.

Peter’s death had not only created grief.

It had removed Callum’s professional center.

Ruth finally saw it.

“You needed the redevelopment role.”

“I wanted it.”

“Needed?”

Callum was silent.

Then: “Maybe.”

Ruth looked at him.

The sale was no longer only greed or practicality.

It was escape.

Security.

A next job.

That did not excuse secrecy.

But it made her brother visible again.

“We still need to disclose it formally.”

He nodded.

“To Elliot?”

“To everyone evaluating the sale.”

Callum’s jaw tightened.

“That could kill the role.”

“Yes.”

He laughed bitterly.

“Convenient.”

“No.”

Ruth’s voice softened.

“Necessary.”

He looked at Peter’s desk.

Then nodded.

“Fine.”

Outside, Hassan switched the sign from CLOSED to OPEN.

The first matinee started at noon.

Six people bought tickets.

Grace looked at the small queue and smiled.

Callum watched.

“One full house and six pensioners.”

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Ruth smiled too.

“That sounds like the Regent.”