So it was that Galina’s visit the next morning suited Jeremy’s book very, very well.
Chapter Six
hen Galina called at Wickton the next morning she was graced with coffee and Marcia. There was no natural liking between the sisters-in-law. There was a mutual awareness of each other’s talents. Admiration almost. Sufficient to keep them on polite but wary terms. There was a tendency to fence verbally rather than chat cosily. So it was now.
“We have no secrets from each other.” Marcia’s opening remarks went along with her pouring of the coffee. She asked neither if Galina wanted it white or black or if she required sugar. It was served as Marcia wished and as she was sure her guest wanted. Galina accepted gracefully.
“So! You want to get your hands on Alan’s land, Jeremy?”
“Our father’s land.”
“Left to Alan. You can’t duck the obvious.”
“No. But I can’t avoid the equally obvious that it couldn’t have been the old man’s intention that Alan got the lot. Why otherwise put that part of it up for sale?”
“In order to leave you yet more money?”
“Unkind, Galina. In any case, I need it. This place to keep up. You were left with plenty and a modern home. This palace is a soak-away for cash. Never ending, the repair bills.”
“But you want to keep it up?”
“Of course we do”, this last from Marcia. “Of course. It is our part in the County’s heritage.” Galina let that pass. If Queen Marcia hoped to rule by property she was welcome to try. She would bleed Jeremy one way or the other. At least by this means they seemed united in their intent. For the time being.
“Where do I come in? I can see that you two have thought the thing through. I don’t know this fellow Reed. I’m not sure that I particularly want to. He sounds a thoroughly amoral go-getter. Having married one, I’ve no wish to get too close to another. Now, given all this fine social conscience you have told me about – land and work for the people; carrying out your father’s last wishes; even saving the planet by re-reeding every hovel in the County – I still can’t see where I come in. Either you can get away with it, carry the day, or you can’t. I can only assume that you don’t think you can. Otherwise, why approach me? Where do you think I fit in?”
There was a pause. Marcia made pretence of offering more coffee. No one wanted any more coffee. What was wanted was a declaration of intent. Jeremy edged hesitantly towards one.
“It’s like this, old thing. We need to soften Alan up a bit. Get him off his high horse. Or high bird, I suppose.” There was no reaction to this feebler assertion. He went on.
“The one way we think we can do that is via his pocket. Make it worth his while.”
“To give the whole thing up? You must be joking. He’s at last found his dream.”
“Maybe. But dreams cost money. More than he can raise on his own cognisance, I feel sure. So, Marcia and I thought that if you were to offer him some support financially – and before you say anything, there is no way he would accept it from me, even if I could afford it – if, as I say, you were to go into business with him, well! There would be consequent ownership implications.”
Galina was not unaware of such openings. She had watched her husband at work. Infiltration and take-overs had been his métier. She might not have liked, over much, what he did and less how he did it, but she knew that he was good at it. She had known how to get him talking about it. She knew how to listen. Always discreet; storing up a volume of tactical information. She saw what her brother was after. As a partner, and as a sister, she could get inside Alan’s empire and to some extent take over. She parried.
“I can see the possibility, but it will take time. Isn’t this Reed in a hurry? He has a critical financial part to play in your great scheme of things, and is unlikely to be one to be kept waiting.”
“I know he can’t hang about. But neither can Alan. He must get more funding if he is to be in a position to put the major plans before the planners. With secured backing he will get all the approval he asks for. He’s got enough outline agreement already. He’d be on to a winner. With the cash. You could be the cash.”
“Then what? Do I get a percentage of the chicken farm? Where’s the meat, as my late dear departed used to say? I wouldn’t want to bank my investment on a speedy return from a wetlands reserve.”
Jeremy and Marcia had known that this would be the crunch question. They had sat looking out of their peaceful drawing room window for quite some hours discussing just this thing. What would be in it for Galina that a rich widow, living five or so miles away, could possibly want? They would get their peasant-free zone and Reed his factory. Galina would need more than an appeal for help to do down – why pussyfoot around the point? – her younger brother. To take over, for others’ benefit, the driving desire of his life, now so near to fruition?
After a while Galina, having gathered her thoughts, spelled out exactly what she wanted. Her audience of two could only nod their heads in response.
Canada Geese (Not quite in step, WWT Washington)
Two Canada geese greeted her. The geese fixed her with that clear, knowing stare and waited for her to feed them. This was the price for their new loyalty to the home provided by Alan. Whilst the ducks were willing enough to grab what they could from what visitors threw, the geese were a different class. As a goose knows itself to be. Galina had nothing but, to her surprise, for this was her first visit to Alan’s empire, she felt guilty. She evaded the birds’ eyes and headed in the direction that the volunteer helper in the small reception office had directed her. The geese seemed to be of a mind to follow her, but when she came to one of the dividing gates that cut across the walkways at regular intervals, they turned away to await the next arrival. Far too much effort to get into gear, spread their wings, and follow her. They knew their place, unlike the busy little moorhens, scuttling away in their hurried, head-down manner, across her path and into the reeds.
Galina wanted to get to Alan first and foremost with the invitation to speak to next week’s luncheon club. Then, if that went as she hoped it might, she would aim to lead into the broader question of some form of financial partnership. She had no intention of getting dragged into legal tediousness, even assuming Alan would contemplate such a thing, but she had picked up an approach or two watching her husband prepare his strikes.
Alan was leaning on a spade, looking at a piece of ground from which a side view of Wickton was just visible. He was surprised to see his sister.
“I paid. Honestly. Your helper is a dear. Where do you find them? Have you enough to cover all day every day?”
“Not yet, alas. I spend my time in the office when there isn’t one available. The local RSPB branch has been splendid. But I can’t expect too much. I didn’t expect to see you here, O sister of mine! Didn’t think you approved.”
“Now, now Alan. Don’t be too hard on me. Maybe I don’t know much about birds, other than people shoot them, and eat them of course. But I don’t wish you ill. Just a bit surprised at your taking on such a thing. Quite a task I would have thought.”
“Bit off more than I can chew, you reckon?”
“I didn’t quite say that. But, yes. In a way. I may not have got anything out of father’s Will, but I do know of it and I’ve some idea of your finances. And what this must cost. Just to run. Leave alone expand. Those are ambitious looking plans you’ve got on display.”
“This is the next part of it.” Alan waved his spade from side to side. “I’m planning to put my flamingo house right here. The right spot and the right aspect to the sun. Must have flamingos. Kids love ‘em, and everybody marvels at their colours. Now you’re here, let me at least give you a quick Cook’s Tour. Surely you’ve got the time, seeing you have made the effort to call?”
“I’d love to. But not too long. I’m only, really, passing by. I called in because there’s something I want to ask you.” As she resisted no further, off they went. Galina was conscious th
at she was wearing quite the wrong sort of shoes. But duty called. With her stiff upper lip in place, she tapped after her long-striding brother, listening with half an ear to his extolling all that was wonderful and what would be wonderful once money and plans came together. This last, in view of her intent, caught both her ears. She politely gazed out over the reed beds where, she was assured, the Mute swans were already nesting. Not that she could see them.
“You’ll need to come on the water with me for that. Luckily they are where they are. I wouldn’t want them too near the paths.”
“Not dressed like this! I’m not getting into any canoe, or whatever you call that paddle boat I saw. Too flimsy for little old me, thank you. Without seeming rude, I really must be making tracks soon.”
Understanding her, Alan led the way back to where she had first found him, and where he had been contemplating his flamingo house. Before her brother could get going once more on the splendour of the flamingo’s nature, or expound on its breeding habits for all Galina knew, she jumped in with her lunch date request.
“Don’t dismiss the idea. It’ll give you a passable meal and fifty pounds in your pocket. Tax free.” She reckoned no one would notice that she had suggested twenty-five originally. She wanted to sweeten her coming pill of a proposal as much as she dared. She could have gone for the hundred, putting in the other fifty herself, but felt that ran too much against the style of the Club. One had to have one’s loyalties and maintain the principles of the group.
“I won’t say fifty pounds towards seed will not be welcome, but I’m not one of your polished public speaking performers as you well know, sis.”
“Maybe not. That’s not what’s wanted. You know your stuff. You are enthusiastic. All the girls want is to hear what’s going on. It’s not like a podium presentation. No slides or films or handouts. None of that sort of thing. I, as Chair for the day, will just say how splendid you are, and you then stand up and say how splendid all your birds, and all your plans for them, also are. Then you can make a pitch for cash, if you like. Or just general support if begging is above you.”
Alan rose to her bait.
“I’m not above a bit of propaganda if it will get me this flamingo house and ease the pressure on the feed budget. The Bewicks will be away any day now so that will ease things a little. I’m keen to attract more residents so that there are birds all year long for people to come and wonder at. That does take money.”
“How much money?” The question was direct. There was no immediate answer. Alan looked at Galina with a new eye.
“You could help?” His question sounded more an exclamation of surprise than any sort of answer to her question.
“How much?”
“I can’t really answer that. Not off the top of my head. I’ve rather gone along with what I managed to raise as a first tranche, and then settled back. Plans, yes. But they haven’t been fully costed. Dreams, really, if you want to know.”
“Those plans on the wall in the entrance?”
“Yes.”
“Then it must be easy enough to get those costed. By whoever drew them up. The running expenses thereafter would not take you a year and a day to calculate, surely?”
Alan didn’t know how to reply. If he hadn’t expected his sister ever to visit his wetland centre he certainly had never thought it remotely likely that she would have any interest in helping to fund it. He was not suspicious. He was taken aback. Off balance. He gulped a bit, took up his spade, and drove it into the ground with a firm thrust.
“Turning the first sod of your flamingo house?” Galina did not add that the view from Wickton house was anything but encouraging. “What if I did offer to help? I’m all heart really. Ever since you bought me that shocking pink doll for my seventh birthday.”
“You said then that you were too old for such a thing. I remember how upset that made me feel.”
“That’s just the way girls are. You should have learned that by now. Didn’t you find it out at university? What do they teach there these days?”
Alan laughed at the easing of the tone. For he found this sudden hint of financial advancement – he wouldn’t go as far as saying salvation, but it was closish if all was known – off putting. He felt, as Galina had hoped, that the very least he could do was to take on the lunch talk. This, really, was no sweat. He liked talking about what he did and what he planned, and all publicity of that style should be good publicity. But this other thing – the offer. Was it an offer? Dare he press it? – still had him in something of a spin. He temporised, still internally gulping with surprise.
“Look, Galina. I’m not sure quite what you mean or what I really want. If you are truly interested in helping develop this place, and it would be absolutely fantastic if you were… I wouldn’t want you to rush anything, but… if you are, well, look, I can get a few figures together in time to show you on that lunch date. If that would be all right. Maybe then you could give it some considered thought. If it doesn’t come to too much. As I fear it might. Far more to it all than I first realised. I began it because the land was there, and was mine. It’s just right. Super for birds. We don’t want it covered in concrete now do we?” Galina broke in to stop his flow.
“Fine. Fine. That will do very well. Get those estimates and let me have them next week. You, me, we, might be able to convince a few of the others to come in as well. Who knows? They are not all silly little brainless socialites you know.” Alan didn’t dare make a comment on that.
“So”, with a look at her bejewelled wrist, “I must be off. Fascinating. Quite fascinating. Next week. Wednesday. Midday prompt. Suit and tie!”
Alan didn’t know whether to smile or shout with joy. What a turn up for the books? The starved financial books.
He wandered back to the office, leaving his spade to mark the spot of the next phase of the great development. Whow! His beloved greylags were waiting for him. He felt sure they recognised him, but also knew full well that they approached everyone. They had gone straight up to that business big-shot-looking guy who had called in yesterday. ‘Just passing’ he had said. Like his sister. All were welcome. Spread the message. Alan only knew of him from Mrs Munday who had a genius for chatting up strangers. She was on again today, bless her, but he must relieve her now. The geese gave him the eye. He put his hand into his pocket. Mirabelle strode forward and, with a stubby push of her beak, scoffed the offered seed in eager swipes. The more gentle Martin stood back, slightly hesitant. He was not nervous but always played the cautious role. Alan made sure, by putting some into his ungrabbing mouth, that he had his share. Mirabelle made no attempt to steal her mate’s ration, but made it clear that second helps were expected. Alan indulged her.
He entered the office, thanking Mrs Munday for her support yet again.
“Mrs Donlevy was sure that she could come today. Some last minute problem I expect. So grateful. Very kind.”
“It’s a pleasure, Mr Tewkes. Had quite a few in really. A school visit again tomorrow. Heather Bright is bringing them. Mrs Hole came last month. We’re getting known. And popular.”
“Good. I’m glad. They’ll just be in time to see the Bewicks, and the Mutes’ nesting, so long as Ms Bright keeps them quiet and at a distance. The swans are not all that used to people yet and I don’t want dad getting aggressive. Never do.”
“Indeed not. You don’t want to risk losing Mrs Oakley’s support. She’ll be spreading the news of what’s going on here around all the schools I expect. Could be very good business.”
“Which we need, heaven knows. Thanks again, Mrs Munday. I’m all right for the rest of the week.”
“Well, if you get let down again, and if I can, I am always willing to help. It’s wonderful what you are doing here. Good night.” Off she went, leaving Alan to his birds, his thoughts and his scanty books. He gazed over his grounds. It was coming along. It was taking off. Could this unexpected, surprising, hard-to-believe offer, if it was an offer and not false lead, of Galina’s make
it all come true? He grinned to himself as some birds took off. A patrol of mallards flew over, circled in a sweeping arc, and settled back once more, a knob on a lake just out of his sight. Maybe they were just saying goodnight as well.
Chapter Seven
he talk had gone well enough, Alan felt. He gazed now over his polite audience in expectation of the questions that Galina, in charge of proceedings, had invited. He was confident he could handle those, but was uncertain how to handle any that touched on the financing of his scheme. His sister had been as good as her word. She had praised his initiative – ‘just what the area wants; brings in the right sort of visitor’ – and had given the impression that from her extensive knowledge of the place, she would do all she could to raise support for it. Alan was a little taken aback at some of the detail she included in her introduction. If she had gathered all that from her one brief afternoon’s call, then she had a mighty quick eye and ear. She must, he considered, have done her homework in preparation for this luncheon club date. He was impressed and grateful, doubly grateful as she made in her opening remarks a personal and unexpectedly positive financial statement.
“I’m not just today’s Chair, nor just Alan’s sister. I am, from today, showing my full support for his work by giving him this cheque. No, Daphne, not from our funds! From mine. For the work of the wetlands.” She passed a folded cheque to her brother, to the applause of those present and to the surprised delight of Alan who could only reply:
“I am very pleased. Most pleased, to accept. Such support, such backing will bring new life to the whole project”, a statement that was followed by a second round of clapping and appreciative murmuring. But not the opening of any other cheque books.
Goosey Goosey Gander Page 6