by David Woods
Sometimes he dreamed of giving up drinking altogether and building a huge international company in construction and banking. He even drafted a five-year plan to this end, only to digress once again. It was while he was in one of his drunken stupors that the telephone rang.
“Hello, who is it?” he said in a slurred voice.
“Garry, you’d better sober up quickly.”
He instantly recognised his mother-in-law’s voice. “Hello, Mother. What’s the matter?”
“Jane’s gone into labour.”
His voice steadied. “Right. I’m on my way.”
“There’s no hurry, so you can sober up first.”
“Of course, mother.”
He put the phone down, showered and drank a large amount of coffee before driving in the direction of Wiltshire. It was 3 a.m. when he arrived, looking drawn and tired and going straight to the hospital to find the baby had arrived two hours previously. Jane was sitting up in bed nursing it and Garry’s face lit up when the nurse announced it was a boy. He sat by the bed looking every inch the proud father, albeit with bloodshot eyes and a grey complexion. He made no attempt to touch or hold the infant, but just stared at his little face in wonder. Clearing his throat, he said clearly, “I promise to stop drinking and look after you properly.”
Jane gave him a sceptical glance. “How long will that last?”
“I really mean it, darling.”
“Actually I was thinking of moving in with Mother permanently.”
He was not surprised at this statement. If it had not been for the baby he would not have minded too much, so long as she would agree to accompany him to social functions from time to time and not demand a divorce. He lowered his tone and looked appealingly into her eyes, “If you would please come home, I’ll lay off the booze and try to be reasonable.”
“If you really mean it, we could try again.”
“I promise to be nice to you.”
They named the child William, after Garry’s father, and Jane came home to Hampstead accompanied by her mother, who stayed for a month to help out. Garry found it a strain being extra nice to two women, so he spent a lot of time at work, and consequently the two companies benefited. His drinking was confined to long lunch breaks and occasional evenings in his flat.
Jane suspected he was still drinking heavily, but said nothing and their relationship developed into a sort of distant friendship. She no longer craved his love and affection, which made her sad, and she often cried when she was alone.
Garry still admired his wife’s beauty and was proud when she accompanied him to social events, often wishing he could feel in love with her. He still remembered the way she made love when they first met, wanting to take her back to his flat and try again, but knew she would not agree.
* * *
Jim visited all the other builders’ merchants in the area with the same outcome as the first, which left him feeling downhearted. Someone has told them all I’m an ex-con, he thought, and sat in the van thinking how different things would have been if that ginger-haired man had not died. Ten minutes later he got out of the van and walked for a while, the physical activity stimulating his mind and stopping him looking back at what might have been. He found himself outside a paper shop and walked in to buy a local newspaper. Having scanned the advertisements, he found a section which nearly leapt out at him — Builders’ Merchants Bankrupt Stock Sale. The venue was just out of town and the sale was to be held the next day. He jumped in his van and sped off to find all the materials he needed were there, arranged in lorry sized lots, and he bought a catalogue, pricing each lot carefully.
The Sale day was wet and with only a small group of buyers huddled under a tin lean-to building. The auctioneer got a poor response, selling everything very cheaply. Jim bought much more then he needed and left feeling delighted.
The building materials arrived in a convoy of lorries. Jim and his gang unloaded bricks, blocks, timber and cement in neat piles along the back of the site, where there was only just enough room. The last lorry pulled away and Billy walked up to Jim, his face streaming with sweat, but with a wide grin. “That miserable bastard who tried to bugger up Grainger Construction ought to come and see this lot.”
They both laughed, but then Jim looked seriously at his stock. “We’ll have to keep a look out for prowlers, snoopers and anyone who looks like a potential thief.”
“Yeah. The bloke who got at the builders’ merchants might be bent enough to swipe the lot.”
“More than likely.”
Jim went to see the local police, who agreed to keep an eye open, remembering him from the murder at the old mill and pleased to help. He stayed on site and worked for sixteen hours a day, only going home to sleep. Rosie fussed over and nagged at him to get more rest, but he took no notice and carried on working including weekends. Sundays were his days for sitting in the site hut doing paperwork. The result of all this effort was two houses built in record time and sold by a local estate agent within two weeks of being on the market. The other two houses were built more quickly, Jim continuing to work very long hours with a single-minded determination to succeed. He often remembered being broke, friendless and laying in a police cell not wanting to face life. Some nights he awoke and thought about Angela. He dearly wanted to hold her again, see her lovely face and regularly nearly took a day off to attempt to see her, but always decided not to. After all he was still an ex-con and an ordinary working man, and she deserved someone much better suited to her class.
Before the last two houses were put on the market, a new building site had to be found in order to store the surplus building materials. After days of searching, Jim found a site nearby, with planning permission for twenty houses. He agreed to buy if he could use the site immediately, and spent all night working out if he could afford to buy and build houses before he ran out of money. The only way was to sell the last two houses on the first site quickly, and get on with building the next two before he had to buy a lot of materials. His plan worked and the new site proved a success, so he bought a much bigger site building, which was used as a company office and mess room. The first house on the new site was built with materials from the bankrupt sale, with enough over to excavate the foundations and drains on the next three, but he would soon need new materials. He scanned the papers again, but there was nothing interesting. He thought another visit to the local builders’ merchants might be worth while, as maybe they would change their minds due to the amount needed, but the reaction was the same as before. He returned to the site feeling depressed and worried. Billy ran out from the site hut. “Jim, there’s a bloke here wants to quote us for materials.”
A young nervous-looking man in a smart suit was standing in the mess room and introduced himself as Ron Smart. “We’ve just started our own builders’ merchants and wondered if we could quote for anything.”
Jim kept a straight face. “What’s your company called, then?”
“B.H.S. Supplies. My partner and I started it a few weeks ago.”
“Well, good luck to you. And you can certainly give me a quote.”
Ron Smart returned the next day with a list of materials all priced according to the amount to be purchased. A deal was struck and, after an hour of haggling, Jim was pleased with the prices and delivery offered, and Ron was delighted with the business.
Jim spent more time studying the way houses were being built, and soon decided that specialised teams would be an advantage in order to try and create a production line approach. The first team was called the oversite gang — they dug the foundations, laid the drains, built the foundations up to ground floor level and then laid the first rough surface of concrete for the floor. The next team laid the bricks and blocks, followed by the chippies laying the floors and setting the roof. Outside contractors did the electrical and plumbing work, whilst the roof gang laid tiles and the plaster was supplied by a further team.
This strategy worked very well and the houses were built faste
r than he had first anticipated, and he negotiated a special deal with a local estate agent, who sold the houses as they were completed. He ploughed all the money from the sold houses back into the business, only taking out enough to live on. When ten houses were sold and the others progressing well, he started to look for another site; still using the old van, which was beginning to look battered and rusty, to collect workers and take them home. He found a site for fifty dwellings further south in Sussex, and this time had no doubt about his ability to pay for it. Following this the company progressed at a tremendous rate, due to Jim’s enthusiasm and endless energy. Billy was promoted to site manager and worked with equal enthusiasm.
Jim set up his new site office, which he had just finished fitting up with the essential furniture, on a larger site. When he looked out of the window, he saw a familiar figure walking towards the building, and walked out to greet the round-faced man.
“Fred Burrows. How nice to see you.”
“It’s good to see you. And doing so well, too.”
“How are you getting on, Fred?”
“Not so well. Thought I’d see if you could give me a job.”
“But what about Blakesbuild?”
“I got the sack for taking you on.”
“I’m awfully sorry about that.” Jim felt distraught and guilty.
“Not your fault, Jim. The trouble is that bastard Osborne has made sure I can’t get another job.”
“Why? You’ve very good at your job.”
“I don’t know why he got so upset about me employing you. After all you haven’t done him any harm, have you?”
“Not that I know of.”
Jim took him on as a chippy, which was his trade, promising to let him run a site in the future, and gradually other workers defected from Blakesbuild. He decided to take on two middle-aged women to handle the paperwork, and they worked in the site building attending to accounts and wages, leaving him to spend more time running the business. He bought himself a second-hand Morris 1000 pick-up, and used it for his personal transport, as well as to cart materials about. He was constantly on the lookout for new building sites, trying to find areas that would suit his up-market houses.
* * *
Home Farm House was finished before the official completion date. Angela walked around the house, now fully and tastefully furnished, thinking about her father’s long years of working in the City accumulating the money she had just spent, and wondered if he would approve of all she had done. She often thought about her parents, and their loss still made her very sad. She walked around the stables all smelling of fresh paint, and imagined how nice it would be for them to be full of horses with hay and straw in the barn. When she walked outside to view the farmyard, it was neat and tidy, but sort of sterile without animals and people working.
Suddenly she felt very lonely. Everything she had wished for at Home Farm had come true, but the finished house and building were so empty now the builders had left. A gust of wind drove a few dead leaves across the new concrete and they settled at her feet, but when the wind dropped, the silence of the farmyard overwhelmed her. She ran to her car and drove away, back to Manor Farm.
It was mid morning, Peter was working in the fields, Sue had gone shopping and the cows were out to grass. The farmyard was empty and silent, a feeling of melancholy returned and she ran indoors and turned on the radio, but the programme bored her.
She switched off and sat with her head in her hands, realising how desperately lonely she was. In an attempt to shake off this fit of depression, she went into the farm office, hoping that work would fill her emptiness, but her concentration wandered, making work impossible. She rang Mark at his office and his voiced cheered her up. They chatted about how well everything had gone, and then he said, “Can I see you this evening?”
They had a very enjoyable dinner together and then called in at Home Farm for a drink. As they were chatting over a drink in the lounge, Mark put down his glass and took Angela’s from her. “Hey, what are you doing?” She protested.
“I’m going to make love to you.”
His directness both shocked and excited her, and she trembled as he undid her dress, but then grabbed his hand whispering, “Do you love me, Mark?”
“Yes. Very much.”
She released his hand and as he embraced her, their lips met. Mark had dreamed of this moment for a long time, and Angela desperately needed to be loved. Their sudden intense desire for one another was released in a frenzy of passion and they quickly removed each other’s clothes, desperate to explore each other’s bodies. Mark felt as though he wanted to completely consume her beautiful body, and he kissed her all over before concentrating on her most sensitive parts. Angela lay back on the settee wanting him more and more until she could wait no longer. She reached down and brought his face up to hers and they kissed passionately. As he entered her, they both groaned in ecstasy, and their orgasms came quickly and intensely in an explosion of suppressed emotion.
Long after their mutual climaxes had ebbed away, Angela wanted him to stay close to her forever, feeling that at last she had found the man she loved. They relaxed together, side by side, neither wanting the magic of their experience to fade away, but Angela broke the long silence. “I love you, Mark.”
He held her close again. “Do you really?”
“Yes, I do.”
Suddenly he got up and knelt down beside her reclining naked body. “Will you marry me?”
She replied immediately. “Yes.”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe it.”
They embraced again, staying together for an hour. Mark suddenly looked at his watch, “Look at the time. I must take you home.”
“What for? We can stay here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Why not? We’re engaged, aren’t we?”
“Of course.” They made a bed and slept cuddled up together, only needing half the double bed.
The next day Mark did not go to work and they slept late, enjoying each other’s company. Later they drove into town to choose a ring and picked up some of Mark’s things, as they agreed to cohabit for a while before setting a wedding date.
A month later Angela sat down and thought about the arrangement, which so far had worked quite well; the house seemed to come alive as soon as Mark moved in, and Gemma soon became accustomed to her new surroundings. Mark seemed very happy, setting up his drawing board in a spare room, and most of their evenings were spent pursuing their own interests, but relaxing in the lounge before retiring. Angela was sure Mark was right for her, although their lovemaking sometimes lacked the sort of magic she had hoped for, and had experienced at the beginning.
They agreed to get married as soon as it could be arranged, and the wedding took place in the local church three months later, attended by a few friends and relations. Garry took her arm and gave her away. He was in a very good mood and did not touch a drop of brandy all day; all he drank was a toast in champagne at the small reception held in the Farm House. He even complimented the couple on the work they had done in the house and its buildings. Angela’s happy day was tinged with sadness as she reflected upon her parents absence, which was the reason she insisted on a small ordinary ceremony rather than the grand affair her father would have laid on. Mark understood her reasons and was pleased it was not too grand.
Two months later Angela announced she was pregnant and postponed plans to start horse breeding until the baby was born. Mark was delighted with the news, treating her with even more consideration than before, and spending less time at his drawing board in the evenings, preferring to sit and chat.
In her quiet private moments Angela thought about Jim, and still missed him badly. She wondered if she would be able to go through the rest of her life without seeing him again.
Chapter Seventeen
Three years to the day after the fire at Manor Farm and the death of his parents, Garry Osborne stood in his office at Blakesbuild looking out of the window. He
was admiring his sleek new Jaguar standing in the parking bay, and feeling very pleased with himself at having produced enough profit to buy the vehicle and expand the company. He sat down and looked at the framed picture of baby William placed in a prominent position on his desk. Although he had never held or cuddled the child, he was very proud of him, and hoped to bring him into the company when he became old enough.
He sat and thought about his present situation. The two companies were doing well, Jane seemed happy, the farm was well managed by Peter French and the new farmhouse was superb. Jane was always pleased to visit the farm at weekends, taking a keen interest in the animals’ welfare. His feelings of smug satisfaction were brought to a halt by the telephone.
“Yes,” he snapped.
“Mr. Vine for you.”
“Hello, Mr. Vine. And what can I do for our solicitors today?”
“I would be grateful if you could come to my office for a meeting.”
“What meeting?”
“A delicate matter which can only be discussed face to face.”
“I see. But tell me, is it a business or a family matter?”
“Family. Can you come to-day?”
“Yes. Straightaway.” Garry ran downstairs and took a taxi to the solicitor’s office, wondering what family matter could be so urgent. Perhaps his father had other assets not discovered until now? That would be nice or, maybe he had offshore accounts or even money in Switzerland! If there was, it must be a substantial amount by now, perhaps enough to buy another company. He was bubbling over in anticipation as he entered the office. George Vine shook hands and gestured towards a large leather chair. Garry sat down and made himself comfortable, studying the older man’s face, but he could tell nothing from his bland expression.
George Vine stood behind his desk and picked up a brown envelope, fingering it nervously. Garry spoke cheerfully. “Well, what secrets have you to offer about my family?”
“As you know it is exactly three years since your parents’ death.”
“Is it really?”