The Banker
‘This machine drives like a dream,’ I mused. ‘I can’t hear the engine, just the swish of the tyres on the road that provide a pleasant sound of palatial progress. This is what ‘spoiling yourself’ is all about. Oh, the damn mobile is ringing! Don’t people know that they aren’t supposed to disturb my pleasure when I’m driving my spanking brand-new Jag for the first time! Ah well, I suppose I’d better answer. Now, where’s that button the salesman told me to press to make it hands free?’
“Hello, Tony Granger, hello, Tony Granger, can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear Mr. Tony Granger. I’ve had trouble contacting you today. It’s Miss Tompkins, Headmistress from your Richard’s school.”
“Good evening, Miss Tompkins. I’m in my new car and still getting used to the gizmos. Sorry you had trouble contacting me. I was in meetings all afternoon.”
“Yes, on the golf course Mr. Granger.”
“That’s my classroom Miss Tompkins, that’s where I do my best business. Do call me Tony.”
“Since this is a business call, I think, ‘Mr. Granger’ would be more appropriate.”
“Well, I’ll refrain from addressing you as ‘Pipa’ then. Now what can I do for you?”
“Firstly, I’m concerned that you are driving.”
“Don’t be concerned, the car of this calibre drives itself and I’m going slowly. Secondly, it’s on ‘hands free’ so I shan’t be ending up in a ditch or worse but thank you for your concern. Shall we get to the business in hand?”
“It’s concerning your son Richard.”
“What’s he done? Nothing outrageous, has he?”
“He’s been in a fight in the playground and I now have to write a ten-page report on the matter and contact, it seems, everyone including the Prime Minister. You’re the last in the line Mr. Granger and the most difficult to get hold off.”
“Was he the aggressor? Has he been bullying his classmates?”
“Nothing like that Mr. Granger. He’s a passive boy apart from the sports ground where he is a little competitive but there was some pushing and shoving in the playground and Richard ended up with a black eye. That’s why I have to fill in a mountain of forms.”
“What was it all about?”
“It was about a girl would you believe it. The girl in question, quite sensibly, won’t have anything to do with boys that fight.”
“Wow, I didn’t think of Richard as being possessive like that.”
“The annoying thing about all this business is that he busted the other boy’s nose, with blood everywhere. Not only that, Richard is now the local hero, having drawn blood and to cap it all he tells everyone that his father taught him how to do it. That’s what I’m cross about Mr. Granger.”
“Oh, dear Miss Tompkins, you will have to reserve a place for me on your naughty step on Thursday night and I must apologise for all the trouble it has caused you.”
“I don’t want to prolong this conversation since you’re driving but please turn up on Thursday night and discuss this matter with his teacher.”
“I will but I’m now sitting safely on my drive so I will take this opportunity to raise another matter. Can I borrow your bossy daughters for Saturday lunch at Grange Manor Farm?”
“My what?”
“Sorry, your nice confident and charming girls then.”
“No, you’re right the first time. Where have you met them to know of their particular attributes?”
“At the Farm. They used to play in the woods with other children before my building work started and came to collect something personal hidden in a secret place. They complained about all the mess I had made though I assured them that when it’s all finished it would be better than before. The point is I need them to supervise the little ones with the cooking on open fires.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Well, they told me that they used to light fires in my wood. I had to assure them I wouldn’t clear away all the branches for making dens and for firewood.”
“Well, I never knew all that. I thought they had just been too close to garden fires.”
“My four have invited a gaggle of friends from school and nursery so I need some supervisors. You are of course invited if you are free of the administrative burdens.”
“Thank you, I shall come mainly to see what my two have been up to.”
“I look forward to that. Apart from burnt sausages on sticks there will be some adult treats to tempt you. I need to stop there I’m afraid Miss Tompkins. My babysitter is about to leave. Bye.”
The babysitter thing was to bring the call to the end. Lilly, my children’s nanny was probably feeding them and I would have to help out, clearing the mess and feeding the dishwasher.
“Hi Tony,” shouted Lilly, “Daddy’s back children! Say ‘Good evening, Daddy,’ and Lauren don’t throw your spoon on the floor.” I dutifully went around the kitchen table, patting six heads, kissing where it was safe to avoid the sticky mess. Lilly whispered in my ear, “Pipa’s been in touch? Richard’s in a mood. Ignore it for today. He’s already had a lecture from me.” I mouthed a ‘thanks’ and continued around the table, greeting and retrieving implements and depositing food on the rightful plates. Fortunately, all six of them apart from Richard were strapped in on various highchairs so I escaped my business suit being covered in snot, saliva and sauce with kids surrounding me and all wanting to be lifted and cuddled all at the same time. It was bath time next so at least they would be clean and I would have changed into my leisure wear. Two of Lilly’s babies would be changed into their sleeping apparel after their bath, communal story and taken home. Then I could eat a delicious supper prepared by Lilly and catch up on some work or just relax. It didn’t take long for the kids to drop off to sleep, one by one. Richard was the last as he sang a song he had learned at school. I turned the baby listening device up a notch and sat at my desk in the living room and checked my messages on the phone when I heard a knock on the front door, then the doorbell ring. A bit unusual but I had noticed that the Jehovah’s Witnesses were doing their rounds.
“Mr. Granger, I’m Edna Cavendish, your neighbour at Grange Manor Farm. I saw that Lilly Jones had left since her car had gone. Are you alone Mr. Granger? I noticed a different car in the drive.”
“I’ve changed my car Mrs. Cavendish. I am alone. Sorry I haven’t had the opportunity to introduce myself to you, being a future neighbour but I’ve been busy and you have a reputation as a dragon so I’ve been somewhat reluctant to call. You’d better come in. Are you here to complain about the building works?”
“My, that’s a fine introduction to a dragon. My bark is worse than my bite as the saying goes. I do have a complaint but I’ve come with another purpose.”
“Let’s go through to the lounge Mrs Cavendish. I’m about to pour myself a glass of Fino. Would you like to join me in a glass of wine?”
“That’s very kind. Most people offer me tea but a glass of Spanish Fino would be a very pleasant change. Rather civilised and reminds me of my holidays in Malaga. Please call me Edna and may I call you Tony? Dragons like to be informal.”
“There you are Edna. You will find this seat more comfortable and now what is your complaint.”
“You certainly like to come straight to the point young man. No small talk for successful bankers with brand new expensive cars.”
“I’m sorry Edna to be so rude. You will have to excuse me. I’m a little short on small talk at the moment.”
“This wine is good, better than I remember it. That was many years ago when I used to holiday with my husband. Now the complaint I have, to get it put out of the way, is that you have fenced our adjoining boundary and my grandchildren are furious that they can’t get access to your bit of woodland. It was their adventure playground.”
“Yes, I understand that they lit fires there and made dens. I’ve already been chastised over it by Miss Tompkins’ two daughters. I don’t mind them playing there when the building work has finished. I’ll get Owen to construct a gate in the fence for you.”
“No need for that Tony. In future they will have to come and get permission to play there in a polite way. Now my reason for coming is that I and a number of friends keep ponies in the paddocks at the back of your property and we rent them from you.”
“Ah, I wondered when somebody might turn up on that score.”
“We used to pay Old Joseph an annual fee and I’ve collected the monies from all concerned and brought you what we owe for last year. I have an envelope with five thousand for last year. Joseph always wanted cash.”
“Wow, I’ll have to think about this.”
“I hope you will continue renting out the paddocks Tony. It’s so convenient for us all.”
“It’s not that Edna. I have no plans or use for those paddocks at this time. It’s just that a part of that money should go to Joseph’s estate or at least to pay off his crippling debts that he left behind. I suppose the best way is for a portion of that money to be paid to charity and I’ll use the rest to repair the fencing in the paddocks since it’s now part of my estate.”
“We have been on at Joseph for years to do some repairs and maintenance but all he did was to use more bailer twine. I’m sure you will want to keep ponies for your children Tony?”
“I honestly haven’t given it a thought Edna. I’ve got a plan here showing the paddocks and fields. Look, this is where I want to extend the orchard and the walled garden. Beyond that I have no plans.”
“I hope you don’t mind Tony but some of us had got together and come up with a proposal which we were going to put to you at a future date. It seems appropriate now if you don’t mind.”
“Feel free Edna and I will consider carefully as all bankers have to.”
“The paddocks are all different sizes and the fences are a disgrace and we all feel that a major reorganisation is long overdue. This is what we propose. We or you divide the paddocks into equal sizes; so, this one will be reserved for you, being closest to the main house. Then two more as far as the old gravel pit then three more up to the show field.”
“That sounds sensible but what about water and power. Don’t you need that also?”
“That would be in our dreams Tony but it has been raised.”
“OK, I go along with all your plans. Can you discuss this with Owen and if you five tenants raise next year’s rents now, we’ll put that with this envelope of cash and I’ll fund any excess if need be. The paddocks will also need levelling out and the holes filling. This is a good opportunity to use up the excess soil from the footings we are digging.”
“Tony, you don’t know how happy and grateful we will be. Old Joseph, bless his soul, was getting rather troublesome in his last days. Health problems we assumed.”
“Tell me Edna, why was he left with all that humpy land? I believe the farm was quite huge at one time.”
“It was, but to finance another of his hair brained schemes, Joseph would sell off a plot of land until he was left with only that strip. My husband used say it was a geophysical feature left over from the last ice age; a ridge or a terminal moraine as he used to call it. No one wanted to buy or farm on that undulating land, so we suggested he convert it into paddocks for our ponies.”
“So that’s why we have a gravel pit and the builders have hit bands of gravel when digging the footings.”
“Can I say on behalf of our community here, is that we are very pleased that you are employing Lilly and Owen. They are a good family but Owen overstretched himself financially when he started the landscape business. At least he is now fully employed and your arrangements with Lilly are also remarkably mutually efficient. You have a good and considerate brain on your shoulders young man.”
“Is that the Fino talking Edna?”
“Now don’t fill me up Tony. I have to drive home tonight. There is just one question I need to ask so that I can straighten up the gossip that is going around our community about you and your children. May I just add that I am so sorry and saddened that your wife passed away in such tragic circumstances.”
“So, the rumour mill has been at work. The usual question is how a man of my young age has accumulated so much wealth and so many children. I can see from your nods that I’ve hit the nail on the head and since Edna, you are going to be my neighbour when the building work is finished, then you should be entitled to the correct version of my past history.”
“That would be nice Tony.”
“OK, here it is. I got a job in the city on graduating from Leeds and at a ‘Bank meets Local Entrepreneurs’ symposium I met a divorcee who needed help with her website business. We married, she brought two children as part of her dowry and I invested a substantial sum in her business: a Dragons’ Den kind of thing. Her business took off and I was doing particularly well. We had a house in Chelsea with the obligatory Chelsea tractor parked outside and then the familiar trouble began. She was earning more than me and her parents thought that a bank clerk was not good enough for her daughter.”
“And you ended up with the children?”
“That’s right and the house. She left to live with her parents in St Albans. I should have checked. More or less the same situation happened with her first husband. Mother didn’t approve. I didn’t mind because the children were well looked after by a nanny. A year later I met another lady. A Financial Director of a large London company and we got married. Her husband had run off with some floozy and she was left with a house and two kids, so we moved into her house in Islington.
“Oh dear. So, none of these children are actually yours then?”
“Legally I am their stepfather. A year later Emily developed severe ME and was bedridden, totally debilitated. For her sake I took the first opportunity to get out of London and here we are in Ludlow. We rented this house and bought the farm next to you for our family home. We were going to knock it down and rebuild but Archie Williams, my architect, decided that the shell of the building was too sound to demolish.”
“I’m so glad you gave Archie the commission. He was struggling to make ends meet. The recession hasn’t done any favours for his business.”
“I took Archie on mainly for his wife Lucinda who is an interior designer and I needed a feminine touch to the house. They are both great.”
“This is going to be a signature project for both of them; a showcase for their skills.”
“Emily by this time was getting worse and didn’t have energy for anything like that. Fortunately, we had Lilly to help out. I persuaded her to have a full medical examination and they found her riddled with cancer. She wouldn’t take any treatment and passed away in a couple of months.”
“That makes me so sad. How did the children take all this?”
“They are resilient and don’t forget that they are used to mums flitting by. They all develop a strong relationship with their nannies.”
“I suppose so but they are lucky to have you. You are a good father to them Tony. I mustn’t overstay my welcome.”
“Before you go Edna, I would like to invite you and your grandchildren to the farm for lunch in the woodland on Saturday. My children have invited friends. There will be the usual small fires and the children can cook bread on sticks and burn already cooked sausages also on sticks for their lunch. Lilly will knock up some delicious eats for the adults.”
“I would be delighted. My grandchildren are reluctant to come and visit as often since they have lost access to the wood. I am delighted to have met you Tony and we shall be good neighbours as long as you don’t let slip that that you have tamed the dragon. Bye and we’ll be there on Saturday. I presume you have plans if the weather turns inclement.”
“Yes Edna. We can use the old poly-tunnels. I’ll get Owen to clear the space we need if there are any signs of rain. Bye and drive carefully.”
The dreaded Thursday night came and I was sitting on an uncomfortably low chair waiting for my turn with Richard’s class teacher when a lady in a grey duffle coat plonked herself besides me and turned my way to speak.
“Excuse me but you’re Tony Granger, the Bank Manager. I have a bone to pick with you. Your boy attacked my son and broke his nose. I’m Miss Sandra Carter-Jones and what are you going to do about it?”
“Well, that’s an aggressive introduction Miss Sandra Carter-Jones. Maybe that’s where your son gets his instincts to get involved in a playground scrap. I see it as six of one and half a dozen of the other in this case. Richard ends up with a black eye and your son only gets a blooded nose which clears up in minutes.”
“A black eye? No one told me about that.”
“You should listen more carefully before your defence mechanisms kick in. I’m also protective of my children but I always step back and assess the consequences of my actions. Do you know what they were scrapping about?”
“Well no.”
“It was about the friendship of a girl; a bit young at six to take friendships or girls so seriously. I must admit I had a chuckle to myself.”
“But my Christopher tells me that his father, you, taught Richard to fight. That’s why I thought of him as the aggressor.”
“I only taught him to protect himself in the playground and avoid being bullied. Now this conversation is not getting anywhere. I’m holding a children’s party in my woodland on Saturday lunchtime. I suggest you bring your son along and we will both see how they get along. I understand that the incident has passed over.”
“I have three other children to contend with.”
“Well bring them all; more the merrier. Make sure that they are in their oldest clothes. They will be having adventures in the woods but I promise no fighting allowed. Ah, it’s my turn to see Richard’s teacher so see you and your brood on Saturday, about twelve Miss Sandra Carter-Jones.” I was a little cross about that encounter but put it behind me as I approached the smiling teacher behind her desk.
“Lilly, have you come across a Miss Sandra Carter-Jones in your travels?”
“Ah, you have crossed swords with the dreaded Sandra. I can tell. Her son Christopher gave Richard the black eye if you must know. She has an unfortunate history far juicier and graver than yours.”
“Tell all.”
“Well, where shall I start? She’s a local girl, very bright, worked as a Solicitor in Hereford. I can’t remember her maiden name. She married a farmer, a farm manager near here and quickly had two kids. She gave up her job in Hereford and became a farmer’s wife, mucking out the cowsheds and driving tractors. Her husband had a tragic farm accident. Caught his arm in a hay bailer and was found dead about six hours later from loss of blood. It was all over the papers. Like you, she then married a Sales Director for a local food company who was her former childhood sweetheart. He was divorced and had two kids. They also had a child together. The next thing is the road accident statistics caught up with a high mileage salesman and he was involved in a horrific incident. A multiple pile-up and ended his life after six months in hospital. The tragedy doesn’t end there. Six months later her eldest son who played junior football on Saturdays was checked over by a doctor after a minor collision on the field. The Doctor finds the child covered in bruises. Unfortunately, a parent, a local journalist, sees this and reports it to the Child Welfare and spreads it over his paper as child abuse. Even the National rags picked up on it. It was a major scandal in Ludlow at the time. The Welfare was urged to take all her children away and put them in care. Even foolishly I had a go at her in the street. I feel most ashamed and haven’t had the courage to go and apologise. No wonder she is bitter.”
“So, what happened?”
“Well, it turned out that the boy was terminally ill with some rare blood disorder. His blood wouldn’t clot like ours so any minor bang or fall and the area turned black and blue for a week. This boy was football mad so you can imagine how bruised he was. The papers wrote an apology in small print buried deep in the garbage they produce. The damage was done. The boy died about the same time as your wife Emily, probably in the same hospital.”
“Oh God Almighty! I gave her a hard time the other night at the parent-teachers meeting. I also invited her on Saturday to the party at the farm.”
“Ah well, I will have to buck up courage and apologise to her. I feel so bad about that incident. I hope it won’t sour the party.”
“I don’t think so Lilly. And I thought that I had all the bad luck in life.”
“Tony, you don’t know you’re born compared to our Sandra. People still stay clear of her even though they know the truth now. They are probably too embarrassed like me to face up to it and befriend her or at least talk to her in a normal manner. She had many friends around here and they all seem to have abandoned her. It will do her good to get out. You Tony will have to charm her in your usual way.”
“I’m not sure how to handle the situation?”
“If you can’t do it Tony, no one can. You are good with people. Smart arse from the big city coming to civilise the peasants in Ludlow, that’s how we saw you when you arrived but you charmed your way into our community and even been put up for President of the golf club. That’s acceptance for you. Now I’m late with my chores. Off you go and print some more money in that bank of yours.”
Lilly and her husband Owen were doing a stalwart boy scout’s job of organising the fire lighting and making up the dough for the ‘rolled on stick’ bread. There were thirty children, ranging in age from nappies to about ten years in age, all controlled by Pipa’s bossy daughters and some college students that Owen hired who also helped him in his business when necessary. The kids had been divided into six teams and each team had to light a fire with the aid of a candlelight, which I thought of as cheating. Then they had to prepare the dough, skewer the sausages, roll the dough onto sticks and then attempt to cook these things without getting themselves burnt in the process. Parents were ordered to stay out and only watch. Chippie Williams, my carpenter, had set up some crude wooden benches and tables away from the smoke and Zoë, a horticulturist who was working for Owen part time, was serving the adults with treats and drinks prepared by Lilly.
As host, I was circulating. I noticed that Lilly and Sandra were a little teary eyed and had obviously made up. Pipa was being entertained by Edna so I concentrated on the other parents that I didn’t know, as the smoke billowed out over us all. As time passed and parents acknowledged that their children were sufficiently supervised, there was more time spent in conversation than shouting unheeded warnings to their beloved ones beyond the perimeter. The older ones felt proud to be in charge of the little ones and supervised them probably more carefully than the parents would have. The only danger I could see was from possible food poisoning since some of the food stuff inevitably escaped from the plates and was retrieved happily from the woodland floor and consumed with gusto. Then Sandra accosted me.
“Amazing house you’re making here. I didn’t recognise the place when I drove up. With the new earth bank, you can’t see it from the road now. They tell me that it’s still the old house but just renovated. Is that right?” asked Sandra.
“Archie saw no reason to knock it down when I told him of my requirements. He’s made it look more elegant by adding curved wings on each side and a sort of gable on the front roof. Since he had to renew the roof, it wasn’t a problem. The stone and brickwork was pretty ugly and weathered so he had it all rendered. The front is almost finished and they only took down the scaffolding this week so you can see it in its glory for the first time. I’m pleased.”
“You jolly well should be with such a mansion. How many bedrooms has it got and I presume it’s like a Holiday Inn all with en-suite bathrooms?”
“Lucy or Lucinda has ensured that the six bedrooms will have a homely feel with sofas, comfy chairs and other paraphernalia not like a hotel that is when they are all finished. The interior is still in its raw state.”
“What’s that on the side, a swimming pool I suppose?”
“Correct, a swimming pool so that the kids can clean themselves up after being smoked to death in the woods.”
“Corr, it must have cost a bomb. You could have constructed a better roof on this side. That is really ugly. Did you bribe the planners?”
“Those are going to be covered with solar collectors which will power the whole house with some to spare for the yokels in Ludlow and as far as the cost is concerned I had two houses in elite parts of London so this comes cheap by comparison.”
“Solar panels are so ugly, worse than the current roof. I thought you had a good design team on your side?”
“Don’t worry, we have that in hand. We are importing special tiles from Austria that will blend in and not upset your sensibilities.”
“What have you done with the attics and cellars? I suppose you have turned them into a nightclub and a casino?”
“You may laugh and you may titter but the cellars will eventually become playrooms for the kids and I’m thinking of housing my retinue of servants in the attics.”
“Now who’s taking the piss?”
“I’m sure you will have the opportunity to view once the place is finished and furnished. I shall be holding a grand opening party to celebrate.”
“What’s happening with all these horrible outbuildings?”
“Oh, they will be long gone. The upper ones will form the hard base of a tennis court for the kids to ride their bikes on initially. The old stone barn at the side will stay for storage and that new oak building constructed by Chippie Williams will be my stable for a fleet of Ferraris.”
“Isn’t this a bit ostentatious and over the top?”
“Probably is but I have to think of the resale value. Some footballer or pop star may be attracted one day. I’ll catch up with you later. I need to help Zoë with the food.”
“I hope that’s all you’re going to help her with?”
“She is rather attractive, isn’t she?”
Old Joseph was a hoarder and had accumulated all kinds of machinery, building materials and junk, all stored in the dilapidated sheds whilst mountains of furniture and clothing filled all the rooms in the house, including the cellars and attics. I was told he was into house clearance but he never seemed competent in selling it on and divesting himself of all the junk. I had Archie, Owen and Lucinda go through all the paraphernalia and mark it up for recycling, disposal or retention. Lucinda had gone through the furnishings and selected several items for refurbishment, particularly sofas, chairs and Welsh dressers, the rest was systematically sent to the local sale rooms where it all fetched a handsome return.
The most remarkable find was a collection of a dozen grandfather clocks, most in a sorry state. I sent them off to be restored. Lilly sold a lot of smaller items and lots on EBay including four caravans and six classic cars in a dilapidated condition. Owen got rid of all the farm machinery at a farm auction for a tidy sum. At one point, more money was going into my building account than going out. It had taken five months of hard work to clear the site and see the wood for the trees and even so there was still stuff lying around including four large shipping containers. Owen said he was retaining these materials because he might need them for a job. I suspected that he was a hoarder just like old Joseph.
Each Sunday I walked the site with Archie, Lucinda, Owen and Chippie to check progress and make any necessary decisions. All the children were looked after by Lilly and one or two helpers. The latest decision I had to make was a proposal by Owen and Archie.
“Archie and I have a plan for the four shipping containers that we want you to consider seriously Tony.”
“I thought we would dispose of them Owen, once they are emptied. I don’t want those ugly things hanging about longer than necessary.”
“We appreciate that but you had future plans for the Barn and you will need outside storage for outdoor toys, mowing machines, bikes and other family paraphernalia that you need to place out of sight so listen to Owens suggestion. It’s quite interesting. Owen.”
“Thanks Archie. When we have finished demolishing the large shed behind the new garage Chippie has built, then there will be an expanse of concrete left. Rather than grubbing it up we propose to arrange the three large containers in a ‘U’ shape then roof the whole thing over with the huge amount of decking timber found on site. We then place the smaller container on top, cut windows and doors so that you have a raised terrace to look out over the countryside; an unusual kind of garden house for you Tony, to entertain your friends.”
“How am I going to get up there and what will stop me falling off the edge when drunk on the splendid view?”
“Don’t worry about that Tony. There will be proper stairs and secure railings. Chippie here is going to disguise the containers in wood to match your oak garage and Archie reckons one side should be clad with more solar panels. Now don’t forget Tony, we need to consider the best site for one of the water tanks to hold the water at pressure from your bore hole. We all reckon that it should be positioned on top of the containers. That’s going to feed all your water needs apart from drinking and maybe the pool. We still have to check that the water is potable but we’ll still install filters and purifiers for you.”
“Now who’s going to pull this together? Aren’t we in danger of falling behind schedule on the main projects?”
“Over to you Chippie.”
“Well Tony, you know I teach a night class at the local college. I’m going to get the students in Technology to design and construct the whole thing.”
“Hey Chippie, I’m not waiting till next Christmas for this to be completed by part time students turning up once a week. No way!”
“I’m sorry Tony. Let me explain. I have proposed this to the Technical Director and he is going to get the full-time students to carry out the work as a project. Once all the materials and site has been prepared it should all be finished in a week.”
“And how much is it going to cost me?”
“Probably very little Tony. Most of the expensive materials are already on site apart from the solar panels and you will have to order those locally. All you will have to pay for Tony is some fixings, paints and it maybe a nice gesture to provide the student with a few crates of beer when they have finished the job, in appreciation.”
“OK guys I will go along. Chippie let me have this guy’s at the college phone number so that I can clear it with him. Right, we’ve covered off most things on site, let’s go and have lunch and finish off the discussions there.”
The date of the handover was set and Lucinda was extremely busy furnishing the place and providing the finishing touches. Owen was clearing up the site and rolling turf out on bare bits of soil. I wasn’t allowed anywhere near. I was busy with banking, golf club duties as President and meetings of School Governors of Richard’s Primary school and another one nearby. I got snap updates from Lilly but she was busy organising the party food. Invitations had been sent out including builders, suppliers, banking staff, golf club members, neighbours, school Governors plus Uncle Tom Cobley and all. Even the Directors of the firm from Austria who supplied the magnificent solar tiles invited themselves over. The children invited all their friends who were all promised a swim in my new pool, used for the first time. A team of waitresses had been hired and these came mainly from the College Catering Department. The only thing I had to do was cross all my fingers and toes for good weather on a November Saturday and sign off the considerable bills. I suggested that people should turn up in casual dress but was rudely over-ruled by the ladies who wanted an occasion to dress up, strut and show off their finery. The main object of the exercise was to allow the curious to view the house and gardens although my objective was more business orientated. These people were my customers or potential customers at the bank and I enjoyed a party.
People were invited for eleven thirty but most arrived by earlier by eleven and were greeted with a glass of a Kir Royal, bubbly with a dash of local Herefordshire Casis. The children were ushered away from the throng by four students from the college headed by Zoë. Everybody wanted to view the house interior first, so I just stood at the entrance greeted my guests and invited them in. Archie had designed a short and amusing quiz for people to fill in as they wandered through the interior. I think he wanted to ensure the guests all to notice the salient design features that he had incorporated in ‘his’ building. At many times I felt that he had taken over the ownership and I was only the tenant. At twelve, the guests were all ushered up to my delightful terrace, perched high on disguised shipping containers, for more drinks and nibbles whilst an army of waiters got the buffet set out in the ‘kitchen’ and large dining room in the new conservatory. Mums and dads were encouraged to go and watch their sibling in the swimming pool. I had the floor of the pool mechanically raised to children’s waist high so that all of them could get in and splash about unaided. I followed Sandra in amongst a group of doting parents.
“So, what do you think Sandra?”
“You’re a spoilt brat Tony. This doesn’t say much for the Banking World, does it?”
“Success breeds success and encourages a large following.”
“What about the deadly sins of envy, gluttony, etcetera?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t know about them. Look over there, Richard and your Christopher playing in the water together. Do they care about such things?”
“Probably not but don’t you spoil them rotten. And keep your eyes and hands off Zoë. She’s spoken for.”
“I can look, can’t I? Anyway, I’m interested, as you know of my past, in divorcees and widows with masses of children.”
“Well don’t you be looking my way Mr. Tony Granger!”
“I’m not going to be a very good host if I can’t look at my guests, though I did notice that you looked rather ravishing today.”
“I scrub up well Mr. Granger. Excuse me I need to attend to Stephanie. She needs her mum’s attention.”
At one o’clock I tried to usher everyone into the kitchen and dining room for the buffet lunch but most were too busy viewing the house, at the swimming pool or up on the terrace. The two Austrians, I found under the magnificent staircase in the hall examining the spinning dials in the Electrical Cupboard. They were dragging in passing guests and showing them how much electricity, the panels were generating on a November day in ‘gloomy’ England. They seemed pleased with the results. I tried to show some enthusiasm and dragged them off to the buffet.
“Hi, Mr. Granger, I’m Mrs. Swanton, a neighbour from down the road. I am dying to ask you a question?”
“Please to meet you Mrs. Swanton. Since we are neighbours please call me Tony and what question would you have for me?”
“Well, we all have a lot but what intrigues me here in this so-called magnificent kitchen is that there are no Aga stoves or cooking equipment in here apart from a hot plate. Please call me Sam, short for Samantha.”
“Well, I’m glad you’ve noticed Sam and noted it down on Archie’s quiz paper. Apart from storage of crockery, cutlery in the Welsh dressers arranged around the walls, all the preparation and cooking are done in a separate professionally equipped kitchen over there through that doorway. Go and have a look in and the walk-in-pantry is next door. Lilly designed all that including the laundry room and utility.”
“Thank you, Tony, we will. Come on Betsy and Enid, let’s explore further.”
By two o’clock everyone apart from the children had congregated in the ‘Kitchen’ and in the formal Dining Room and apart from sampling the delicious food on hand were busy consulting each other and comparing the quiz to ensure that they hadn’t missed anything. A mum came to me, introduced herself a ‘Kelly from down the road’ and asked if the children, her children needed her attention? I assured her that they were fine, being fed and entertained to a disco in the cellars. She raised an eyebrow and scurried off to consult another mum.
“Hi Pipa. Good that you could make it.”
“Hey, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Rather magnificent or should I say grand, TVs in every nook and cranny and more bathrooms than you can shake a stick at. You’ll be very comfortable here. When are you moving in?”
“I’m glad you like it. We shall be moving in next week after the cleaners have been to do their stuff after you guys have road tested everything. I would like you to accompany me to the Golf Club Ball later this month if you are free?”
“Why me, surely you have a flock of admirers?”
“I can’t go alone, well I can but I would rather have a delectable companion amongst those fuddy-duddy dinosaurs who still object to women members there. Think of it a Women’s Rights thing.”
“Well, that’s very kind of you but I have babysitting problems at the moment with all the meetings we are having this Christmas season.”
“No problem. You bring your kids to my place and Lilly will look after them. She’ll be there all night with her two.”
“All night? Where do you intend to spend the night then? Have you got plans for me?”
“I haven’t yet given it a thought but we’ll see how the dinner goes. I might just hope it gets a bit boring. So, you will come? Bring the kids around about six and Lilly will feed them, tuck them in and read them a story. I’ll pick you up in a taxi at seven.”
The house party proved a great success with meeting neighbours, making new friends and finding new business contacts. We moved in on a Thursday two weeks later and the first thing the kids wanted was for all of us to go in the pool. The floor was still raised and the water came to my kneecaps. I had to fire up the sauna since Owen and Lilly wanted a trial whilst I looked after a water polo match in the shallows. The girls won. After dinner Richard asked if he could invite Christopher to play in the woods and possibly have a play in the pool. That meant inviting the whole family not that I minded so I asked Lilly to extend the invitation to Edna’s grandchildren and anyone else that she could muster up. In the end we had twenty children of various ages plus the luscious Zoë and her current boyfriend to supervise the kids. Since it rained, the kids played and danced in the cellar before a late lunch of hot dogs and potato skins plus copious amounts of apple and plum juice picked from our own orchard. Some of the ladies requested that I fire up the sauna for them. I wasn’t invited to join them when I asked, with Sandra sticking her tongue out at me cheekily. At lunch Richard and my Felicity started chanting that they should repeat all this on Sunday. I checked out the adults for approval and suggested we do this every weekend to cheers from the children.
The news had spread and on Sunday another six children turned up for the festivities. The weather was good enough to play in the woods. Unbeknownst to me and as a special surprise Chippie Williams had built a substantial tree house with slides, swings and climbing frames and a zip wire, an adventure playground. I was totally astounded and my jaw must have dropped for all to see and the adults cheered and clapped whilst Chippie basked in the glory of his wonderful construction. I left them to it whilst Zoë took me to the walled garden to show me what she had achieved there in such a short space of time. I only had had a brief look during the party and noticed some colourful planting. Now I saw the clever arrangement of beds that Zoë had designed. The raised beds radiated like flower petals from a central circular bed. They were slightly raised to the height of a recycled railway sleepers and stumps cut from old telegraph poles. Zoë had carefully transplanted mature leeks, brussel sprouts, fancy cabbages, coloured chard and colourful autumn flowers to make an instant show. I praised her for her skills and she coloured up.
“Mr. Granger, this is all for show you know. Some of these plants may survive and you may be able to crop them but plants don’t take to transplanting at this late stage. The leeks may be OK.”
“Zoë, you have done a terrific job and you will have to come regularly and tend this garden. I haven’t got your green fingers. I don’t mind paying.”
“Thank you, Mr. Granger, I appreciate that. There’s not a lot of work for me during the winter and there’s lots of preparation work to be done here. Can I bring the poly-tunnels into use?”
“I don’t see why not. The kids can use the cellar to play, in the wet. They won’t get so dirty. Now what are your plans?”
“I’d like to start some cuttings of hedge plants so that we can have some topiary in the main garden. Also, I’d like to plant more espalier fruit trees against the walls on either side. The heat from the bricks will bring them all on nicely. Can you afford a netted enclosure so that we can plant some soft fruit behind the garden there, just next to the compost heaps and garden shed that Owen had constructed?”
“Zoë, don’t worry about the money but just keep an accurate record if you would and stop calling me Mr. Granger, Tony would be more acceptable.”
“Owen and I are very grateful for the opportunity to have a free hand here. I hope you will allow us to take photographs for publicity. This is going to kick start our careers.”
“Anything to help Zoë and if you need to bring people to show your work then I won’t mind. Now let’s go and have some lunch. I’m getting cold out here.”
Lilly’s lunches were famous in Ludlow for the people in the know. She had trained as a chef before she got married and had her family. Her American styled fried chicken and chunky potato skins were to die for. There was never any difficulty in getting people to sit at the table when Lilly was serving up her crispy chicken. The huge table in the kitchen had been built by Chippie Williams and designed to be lowered to child height when necessary. All the children stood to eat at the table apart from the smallest, who were much safer, perched in highchairs. Piled platters of food were set out and Lilly supervised the distribution to expectant little faces. There wasn’t much chatter only an occasional cry for more. Once the children were settled the adults could dive in for the spoils whilst Lilly went off to for second helpings. I reluctantly hung back and arranged the drinks for the parents. Zoë served the children their drinks. Home baked apples were served as desert, each with a plum inside and covered with a crisp coating of caramel. The children got cool small apples. The adults were served apples at full dangerous heat.
The Golf Club dinner dance was a boring affair and I was delighted to have Pipa for company. She knew most of the people there and helped me by introducing me to them. With excuses of baby-sitting problems, we excused ourselves early, well before midnight. At Pipa’s house I offered to escort her to her front door and she gave me a puzzled look and ordered me to pay off the taxi. She also commented to my surprise that her bed was softer than mine at home. Next morning, I got up early, showered, dressed, let myself out and walked to the bank. I had a spare change of clothing. I then called Lilly at home.
“Hi Lilly, everything OK at the ranch?”
“No worries, Tony, they are good as gold and eager to get to school and nursery. I shall be here until lunch time to do some housework for you. Now tell me how you got on with that lovely lady. I hope you have tipped your hat in her direction.”
“Had a lovely evening and Pipa’s an exceptional lady but not for me. I’ve learned my lesson the hard way. I can’t take on any more kids.”
“You’re great with kids Tony. You should have been a teacher.”
“I couldn’t do what I’m doing now on a teacher’s salary Lilly and I couldn’t do without you. Knowing my luck, Owen will break his neck on my land and I will have to marry you Lilly.”
“You could do worse Tony. Have to go now, bye.”
“Hi Tony, just called to thank you for inviting me to the ball. I enjoyed myself.”
“I’m the one to thank you Pipa. I’m glad we pulled off the Cinderella trick.”
“So am I. To be honest, I haven’t had a man since I ditched my partner a year ago. Don’t forget to count me in if you need a companion for any do’s you attend or just need company. God! What am I saying! Bye.” I was quite pleased with that outcome and wondered how to develop the relationship further if I really wanted to.
Just in the New Year I had the opportunity to talk to Edna next door. “Edna, I want to consult you about my lane by the side of my property that you use to get to your paddock. Over Christmas period I took the tractor with the bucket to collect some more gravel from the quarry for the paths when I encountered a group of hikers, ramblers, call them what you may. Since the lane is sunken, I asked them to retreat to the gateway about a hundred metres back and they gave me a mouthful, telling me that this was a public path stroke bridleway, a right of way and it was I blocking the way and that I should be the one to move.”
“So, what did you do Tony?”
“I switched off the tractor, left it blocking the lane and went to consult the copy of my deeds and Ordinance Survey maps. They didn’t show the lane as a right of way. What do you know of the matter Edna?”
“I bet you came across a stout man in red anorak and flat cap. We call him the Colonel and he thinks he owns the place especially the public pathways. He leads walks for the Ramblers. Old Joseph wasn’t too bothered about people using the lane which unfortunately included fly tippers so naturally the dog walkers, ramblers, lovers used the lane freely. It’s also a short cut to the next road if you don’t care too much for your car. So, what are you going to do Tony?”
“Not sure. I’ll get some legal advice but in the meantime, I’ll get Owen to clean up the access, put a proper gate there and place some ‘Private Property’ notices at each end. I’ll leave the gate open for you but it may be an extra reminder that they are technically trespassing. At this stage I don’t want to open dialogue with the Ramblers or the Local Council.”
“I think that’s wise Tony. Since you have filled in some of the potholes we have noticed more traffic on the road. I think you should temporarily block the through route and stop the rat run. Park some farm machinery past the paddocks. The news will soon spread. You know that we employ a sort of shuttle system to avoid being blocked in. We drive out on the even hour and in on the odd.”
“Are you trying to tell me something Edna?”
“I am Tony, to stop any embarrassment on who has to give way when you are driving the tractor. Why do you do it?”
“It’s just fun. I always wanted to drive a farm tractor as a boy and I’ve had to wait until this time to fulfil my dream. I collect gravel from the quarry and the horse muck that you folk dump there.”
“We’ve been dumping that for ages but maybe we should come to some better arrangement now that you have improved our lot so much in the paddocks. It’s ever so nice to brew up on a cold day.”
“I don’t know how you muck out the stables but can I suggest that you come and borrow my tractor and deposit the muck directly onto my compost heap.”
“You’re asking me to drive a tractor, Tony? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Hey Edna, I’ve seen you manoeuvring that horse box expertly with your Land Rover. Driving a tractor is easy by comparison. An old dragon can learn new tricks.”
“You will have to give me a lesson before I agree or the others. In the meantime, I will make some quiet enquiries amongst my rambler friends.”
Since I had moved into my luxurious surroundings life had been good for me and my family. Business in the bank was picking up nicely and all was rosy in my garden. I wondered if another mishap would emerge. My life up to now had been periods of bliss and periods of trouble. This was definitely bliss. I was showing Sandra how to use our industrial washing machine since hers had broken down at home.
“Sandra, what’s the matter. You normally look severe, cross or angry. Currently you look as if the troubles of the world are on your shoulders. You look red eyed.”
“Nothing to trouble you Tony, I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Is it a money thing? Can I help?”
“It’s always a money thing isn’t it and no! I don’t want your money.”
“Look Sandra, you are very upset about something so tell me. A problem shared is a problem halved. Sit down and let’s discuss the matter.”
“I don’t want you involved. I have to sort these things out myself.”
“Hey as a Lawyer you know that you have to consult experts. Treat me as an independent consultant and let’s see if we can find a solution.”
“Well, I’m running out of money. My savings are running low and I can’t sell my house because it’s in negative equity and the mortgage is a fortune and I don’t know what to do?”
“Aren’t you getting any benefits from the state?”
“Child benefit but that’s not enough.”
“OK, I will arrange a meeting for you with a Benefit Specialist that we use so that we can maximise your relief. You would be surprised how many times I experience the same problem with my clients. Now cheer up or in your case start looking ‘cross’ Sandra again and let’s see what the experts come up with.”
A week late I get a call.
“Hey Tony, I’m not a pauper yet. I can still pay my own bills.”
“Hello Mrs. Carter-Jones. It is the bank’s policy to pay for expert advice to help a client in difficulty.”
“Don’t smirk Tony! I don’t want to be indebted to anyone and I don’t bank with you!”
“Wow Sandra, don’t shout, calm down, take a few deep breaths. I can cross charge you if you like and it will be half of what you would have paid if you had gone direct. Now what did he advise?”
“I can apply for relief which will double my income but I can’t get other benefits from the State until my savings are down to a certain level and I won’t feel happy with that. No cushion to fall on.”
“I know how you feel but I have an answer of sorts for you. Come to the bank tomorrow and we will set up some trust funds for your children’s education and that will lower your savings to the required threshold to claim more benefits and retain your capital for a happier day. Come on, say something Sandra.”
“I don’t like being dependant on the State.”
“I understand that but in a few years time your money will run out, and the scenario becomes, you can’t pay your mortgage, the bank will kick you out and the State will place your kids in care since you are homeless. This way you will have a chance to get through the crisis.”
“I suppose your right. I see you tomorrow morning.”
The summer came I was summoned to the Bank’s Head Quarters in London.
“We are pleased with your progress Mr. Granger in Ludlow and we have decided as a cost saving measure to close the second branch and put all the business in your capable hands.”
“Well, I am flattered with your confidence in me but what happens to Oscar?”
“Mr. Lewis will be taken care of in the usual way Mr. Granger.”
“If you’re considering redundancy then Oscar has no chance these days getting another job at his age. He’s an experienced operator, far better than me. You would do better to make him Head and make me redundant. It would cost you far less since this is a cost cutting exercise.”
“As you wish Mr. Granger. Go down to HR and sort out a deal.” Human Resources gave me a paltry deal and I returned on the train a little crestfallen and jobless. Or at least jobless during the Summer when I could take my kids abroad for some real sunshine and recreation. I hoped that Lilly would be free to come and look after us. She could bring her two since they are part of the family. I was arrogant enough to think I’d get a job in the locality with ease. Unfortunately, I was proved wrong. The banking world was in crisis.
We returned from a glorious number of weeks in Brittany, on the coast near La Baule where a friend of a friend had a Gite with plenty of garden to pitch our tents. In return for the favour, we had to mow the grass and paint the outsides. Mowing the grass wasn’t a problem since the kids trampled it all down to bare earth in no time with football, their bikes and games. I painted the outside in the evening when the kids had flopped down exhausted in their tents and Lilly directed from a lounger chair, sipping a large, white, Muscadet wine. We had tremendous fun for six weeks and on my return, I was immediately informed that as an unemployed person and on unemployment benefits, I couldn’t be President of a prestigious golf club in Ludlow. Someone had spotted me entering the dreaded ‘dole’ office. Oscar immediately resigned his membership and demanded his fees be returned followed by a mass exodus of others. Some enterprising member had drawn up a syndicate with a plan to develop a rival course. I thanked those members I knew and hoped they would still play with me on the Municipal course.
On my second day back, I was accosted by a furious Sandra, on my drive, who was increasingly angry with the world and especially me, more than usual.
“You’ve ruined my life Mr. Granger. I shouldn’t have listened to your advice.”
“Calm down Sandra. Just control yourself and tell me exactly what’s happened?”
“The Benefits people want to kick my family out of my house and re-house me in some grotty place on the Council Estate and I’m not having it. And now I can’t access my savings to pay the mortgage.”
“OK, I get the picture. What have you done? Have you talked to the housing people?”
“Of course, I have! They came to my house and I kicked them out with a flea in their ear.”
“Not the best tactic to employ. You have to treat these officials as normal people with normal stressful lives Sandra, not go barging in like a bull in a china shop. You want them to be sympathetic to your cause.”
“I think I failed on that score. I went to their office and gave their manager the ‘what for’.
“Well, I hope you haven’t burned your bridges Sandra but I have a solution for you to consider. I’m in the same boat as you now with no job and four kids.”
“Hardly! Don’t make me laugh!”
“I’m using up my savings at an alarming rate with this place, same as you were. My proposal is that you move in here and pay me rent.”
“No way Jose! You just want to get inside my knickers. What about Pipa and that blonde bitch Clara from the golf club.”
“You mean the one with legs up to her arm pits, don’t you?”
“The same!”
“Look, you’re in a state and I can appreciate why. I don’t intend to stay here forever since there are no jobs for me that will pay sufficiently for the lifestyle I and my kids like to enjoy. I will have to go back to the City but that’s not such a hardship. Now you consider my proposal seriously. I’ll rent you my bedroom suite where you’ll have more than enough room to play with your kids plus two spare bedrooms for them. I will move down to the study downstairs where there is a perfectly good couch. It even opens into a bed. There’s also a shower-room next door. That will ensure there’s no hanky-panky. I’m sure Old Joseph must have left some chastity belts hanging about if you’re still afraid. Be realistic, even though you skit me something rotten about my wealth and lifestyle, you like this place and would be extremely comfortable living here. You are here every weekend with your family so you might as well just move in and we’ll look after the kids together in idyllic surroundings,”
“I’ll think about it. What about Lilly? How will she take it?”
“Look Sandra there’s nothing untoward going on between Lilly and me and as long as you cheer up and treat her as a normal person, I’m sure you two will get along. She has already asked me to cut her hours so that she can expand her E bay business.”
“Are you sure you can live in the study?”
“Look Sandra, my study is probably larger than any of your bedrooms at home.”
“What if you want to bring any of your floosies back?”
“Well, you can just be jealous.”
“Dream on!”
“I’m usually more discreet but I shan’t mind you bringing men back, after all, you are in rented accommodation. Have a think about it.”
“What if we don’t get on and you want me to leave?”
“From what we have been through I don’t think it will come to that. Don’t forget the house is big enough to lose yourself in and your accommodation will be virtually self-contained. My kids would love a lady in the house on a permanent basis and I’m sure yours appreciate a surrogate dad.”
“You’re good at talking Mr. Granger but I still think you have the hots for me and I don’t want a man in my life at the moment.”
“Look Sandra, I like you but I’m sensibly enough to know that I can’t take on another pile of kids. I’m looking for a single lady so that I’m not saddled.”
“Like that bitch Clara and keep your hands of Zoë. She’s too young and fragile.”
“Why don’t you take this opportunity and inspect your new accommodation and maybe next week, come and road test it. A week’s holiday, what do you say?” I’ll move out straight away.”
“I’ll look around on my own if you don’t mind so don’t follow me around!”
A week later Sandra moved in, lock, stock and barrel. Owen moved her furniture into one of the empty containers and her children settled in as if they had lived here forever. It was a children’s adventure playground, a kind of Disney World. My kids all loved company and always liked Sandra even though she seemed cross and angry all the time. Lilly objected to using my computer in my study bedroom so as a present I bought her a tablet to use anywhere she wanted. Feeding of the masses didn’t seem a problem. Sandra got all the kids up in the morning whilst Lilly fed them breakfast. Lilly then ferried my Richard, Christopher and Charlotte to school and her two, Edward and Alice to playschool whilst Sandra looked after Lilly’s two and her one by reading them a story, played and then they would go swimming to be then all fed lunch by Lilly. I would clean up the breakfast things and vacuum the ground floor.
The evening routine was the same except that there would be a few more people including friends. After school I would take them all swimming and Sandra would usually come along to help especially with the dressing. The youngest ones would end up in night attire ready for bed at seven. Dinner was always at six and Owen would usually join us to help feeding of the ten thousand. Owen and I then cleared up, fed the dishwashers, the washing machine and the drier before sitting in the vast lounge where no kids were allowed apart from special days and have a beer or a wine. In the afternoons and any spare time, I went around cleaning, tidying and doing minor maintenance jobs that always cropped up in a big house. I don’t know how these things got done whilst I was in full time work. Most of my social events were around bank work, golf club and the School Board of Governors, now I only had the School Boards to look forward to and parent teacher’s nights. Occasionally I dated the bitch Clara to Sandra’s displeasure.
Weekends were still a wild party with children from the neighbourhood congregating on Saturdays and Sundays to swim and play. At least the parents now had the consideration of bringing in supplies of sausages, buns, chickens, soft drinks and wines. I was still willing to fund all this but Lilly insisted that friends contributed and they were generous and thoughtful by sneaking their gifts to Lilly without me supposedly seeing. Four afternoons a week, during term time, two schools made use of my swimming pool and two evenings a week the local Brownie Pack made use of my cellars for their meetings. I spent a lot of time cleaning and tidying up after them. Most evenings I spent by myself in my study bedroom writing job seeking letters and contacting my network of friends and former colleagues in the City.
It was early Summer and I was planning our next holiday in Brittany, when having gone to bed I heard footsteps and my door opening. I thought it was Charlotte who occasionally crept downstairs for a cuddle and I would later carry her back asleep to her bed. I pretended to be asleep faking loud snoring which amused Charlotte and she would join in replicating the racket. This time a hand came over, not very child like, and grabbed my member and started a vigorous massage. After a couple of hours or so she left of her own accord. I decided at that moment not to include Lilly on my holiday. Nothing was said the next day.
The saga with the Ramblers continued but now all the leaders apart from the Colonel would call and ask permission if they could use the lane. I could see their dilemma in that it had been a public thoroughfare for years under Old Joseph’s occupancy and maybe before. Blocking the lane at the far end as Edna suggested proved worthwhile and stopped the rat run and especially the fly tippers. Owen was now renting my show ground at the far end and was now holding Car Boot Sales and Farm Auctions twice a month with the assistance of a gang of college students. The Farm Auctions were interesting and the title a bit of a misnomer. People brought their unwanted garden tools, lawn mowers, wheelbarrows and other garden junk for sale as an auction. The interesting development was that they also brought their surplus garden produce including flowers and plants. It became more of a Farmers Market. On fine days there would be quite a crowd. Owen gave me a share of the income plus all the unsold vegetables.
I arranged a meeting of the local Ramblers Committee, plus the local neighbours to discus the Right of Way across my property. The bumptious Colonel immediately launched a tirade of abuse at me until Edna shut him up and told him in no uncertain terms that I had the right to block the lane and set up machine gun posts to prevent trespass. She also reminded everybody that Ramblers were totally against trespassing on private property and more into reasonable discussions with the landowners and assured them that I was reasonable even though I maybe a jobless banker. I proposed that since the lane was too narrow for both vehicles and pedestrians, I would be willing to give up a strip of my land on the shoulder to create a proper footpath with kissing gates and a gravel pavement but I needed help with the funding of materials and their voluntary manual labour to grub up the current useless hedge and plant a new one and a temporary fencing whilst it grew. I would provide the gravel, the tractor and the JCB digger to grub up the hedge and level the surface. Owen would provide the fence post setting machine but his time would have to be paid for. This led to much discussion amongst the Ramblers and after a while their Chairman, Eric Struttfield, welcomed the idea and asked if I was willing to give up the Right of Way. The Ramblers, the local Council and other environmental bodies would raise the monies and draw up the plans for my approval. A round of applause suddenly turned me from a pariah to a Fairy Godmother. The Colonel even volunteered to apply for lottery funding. I closed the meeting and suggested that they all go out and get pledges and we meet in September to finalise the plans and draw up work schedules.
The summer holiday was another joy and delight. I now had to buy a large minibus to take the extended family over to Brittany and more tents and awnings plus a hammock for myself. I was getting too old for sleeping on the ground. I delighted in the more frequent nocturnal visits though it would be a bit difficult to get amorous in a swinging hammock. I would have to consult the Karma Sutra for advice. Once again nothing was said in the mornings. By now we were more adventurous and more prepared for the holiday. We had piled bikes, sun brollies and garden chairs and all manner of sporting equipment on the roof rack and we were all ready to party all day long for six weeks. Regular fishing expeditions were planned and once again we attracted a community of local and tourist kids. I liked having the locals because they would introduce ours to the French language but we also had Italians, Germans, Spaniards and inevitably the Dutch and Belgians. An assortment of extra tents were set up since our visitor’s children forsake their comfortable beds and wanted to join ours on the hard baked ground.
The adults would come in the evenings bringing bottles of wine, beer including snacks and we would all while away the evening in good conversation. The two Spanish families insisted on bringing a box of sardines every night, locally caught and grilled on an open fire until we ran out of wood and had to resort to a gas barbie. This was good since I was fed up of smelling of fish and of wood smoke. We all arrived back as brown as berries having spent all of our time in just sunhat, shorts and bare footed, including Sandra who enjoyed being eyed up by the local men as she sauntered around topless.
We were straight back to normal routine with school runs, feeding, washing, tidying and partying at the weekends. My only disappointment was the nocturnal visits were less frequent than in France. I didn’t dare mention it as Sandra’s demeanour returned back to cross and anger. I had hoped that Sandra would continue to be happy and even joyful as she was in France. Whilst we were away, Owen had been busy. He never liked the hedge on the side of my property and said it detracted from the look of the estate. He had grubbed up the hedge, laid a gravel path, set a wire fence and planted a wide beech hedge. The only thing he hadn’t done was set the kissing gates. He said that the Ramblers were still arguing amongst themselves about the money, with the Colonel in full flight suggesting that the Filthy Rich Banker should pay for it all, since he had made a mess of the Lottery Application. Owen decided to put right the main boundaries himself as another showcase for his business.
It was about October when the leaves on our big beeches in the front were turning golden when Sandra approached me purposefully.
“We should get married!” she stated with vigour and stared me in the eye.
“That’s rather sudden, what’s brought this about?”
“Well, you a going through your money like a blind man with no hands. If you set up trust fund for your children as you suggested to me, you would get the full benefits otherwise I would lose most and you would be the poorer.”
“That sounds like a sound financial plan that I’m used to hearing in my profession. I though you didn’t want a man in your life anymore. What’s brought on the change?”
“I’ve thought it through like a business plan with plus point and minus plus a five-year forecast.”
“Oh, so what are the plus points for you Sandra?”
“Well firstly I get security and stability for my children. I believe that you will bring in the finance that we will all need when you find a job. You are presentable as a husband even though you are a banker. You take us on nice holidays. And you play nicely with all the children. Oh, and you don’t mind mucking in with the chores.”
“Enough, what are the minuses?”
“My children like you more than me and I’m envious. I foresee us moving to London. And I like my huge bedroom all to myself.”
“Well, that’s quite a summary. Short on passion, love and loyalty but as a business plan I give it an A+ for first effort.”
“Oh, another thing, I’m pregnant!”
“So, no pressure?”
“None. I didn’t think it would be a problem having another little one amongst our midst. Anyway, it would be truly yours.”
“Any other bombshells you would like to hurl at me?”
“Can’t think of any yet. I must go and do the school run. I’ll book an afternoon at the Registrars on the way. Don’t forget to transfer your toothbrush to my bedroom tonight.” With a little wave and a chink of a smile she was off to her car leaving me thunderstruck but not totally displeased with the outcome. I went in search of frozen vodka to celebrate.
Autumn passed quickly with the only fly in the ointment being the Ramblers. They couldn’t agree on a work schedule that Owen would approve and I threw the cat amongst the pigeons by suggesting that Owen’s bill should be included in the overall costs of the project. Christmas was another extended party. It became a pool party and enjoyed by all. My guests were very generous in bringing food and presents even though I remonstrated against it. The kids had everything anyway. They were more interested in showing of their prowess in the pool to their parents than opening ‘boring’ Christmas presents. I was being congratulated by all for my secret marriage to Sandra and the forthcoming baby. Oscar startled everyone by bringing a years supply of nappies. I had met my Benefits expert and we both were in receipt of generous sums of money from the State plus total relief on Council Tax which was quite substantial, to my amazement. On the other hand, it would have given the Housing Manager a headache to find a suitable home for a family of eight and a half children.
Zoë had been busy though I had to cut her hours. Since we were constantly feeding so many people, she had her boyfriend ploughed up my paddock and turn it into a farmer’s field growing all kinds of root vegetables and brassica. The poly tunnels were producing continuous crops of lettuces, tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers and other crops. Sandra being a former farmer’s wife, was not to be outdone, converted the orchard into a chicken pen, filled with ex-battery hens laying seemingly hundreds of eggs. These we bartered for tinned foodstuffs and flour from our friends and neighbours. We couldn’t sell things because that would affect benefits but we could barter. We exchanged the rent from our paddocks and show field for regular supply of milk, groceries and pool cleaning materials. Fortunately, the solar panels generated a healthy power credit, so we were never cold nor facing crippling fuel bills. As in the Good Life we were largely self sufficient with Sandra baking all the bread, freezing gallons of fruit juice from our trees and looking after the hens and rabbits which ended up in the pot. Zoë arranged lodgings for a couple of Agricultural students in our static van, once used by the builders and hidden nicely behind the pool building. I hadn’t even noticed it until pointed out by Owen and that the van had been plumbed into the mains. The student worked on the land and gardens in exchange for rent. They spent most of their time driving the tractor and a JCB which was a hang over from Old Joseph.
All the kids would talk about was the forthcoming holiday to Brittany and this time I invited Lilly who was amused by Sandra’s and my planned sleeping arrangements in a hammock under the awning with my baby Emily in a cot at the side. Other families invited themselves along for a week or two and Pipa decided to join us for the full five weeks with her two. The pleasure of anticipation and planning was going to be more enjoyable than the holiday I feared but that didn’t prove to be the case. We had so many tents in the ground that we had problems with sanitation and had to hire a couple of Portaloos. Harold an aging, wheelchair bound, Scandinavian neighbour allowed us to spread over into his vast garden and pool as long as he was allowed to sit next to Pipa in the evenings and away from the smell of the sardines. The children called him Father Christmas when they heard he came from the far North of Norway. He always had sweets for them.
Apart from a mishap on the motorway home with two flat tyres that nearly broke the bank and delayed us by a day, we arrived tired and in good spirits ready to fall back into the old routine but a shock hit us when we saw the headlines in the local papers. ‘Millionaire Banker on the Dole,’ ‘Banker abuses the system,’ ‘Scrounger Banker, a Benefit Fraud.’ There were others, all not very complementary and the columns were even more vitriolic, hurtful and largely misconstrued. The papers were obviously short of news so a day after our return the headline was, ‘Banker holidays in the South of France’ and below the rather good picture of a bronzed fellow. Below the comments were questioning who was paying for these six weeks of holiday in a luxurious Gite with swimming pool when the man in the picture was on all kinds of State Benefits. Lots more tripe was printed in other papers. I wanted to sue but Sandra who had experienced this before wanted to batten down the hatches and just weather the storm. Our friends wrote letters in our defence but they were printed out of context or not at all. The School Governors of the two Boards suggested I should quietly resign to avoid attracting further bad press their way.
I was quietly raking the gravel along the front drive when a car drew up and a smart young man jumped out holding a dangerous notebook. My first intention was to order him back in the car and be on his way but on second thoughts there was no need to antagonise the press any further. At least it was the first reporter to actually come for a face-to-face interview.
“Mr. Granger, I’m Mark Alister from the Telegraph, London. You seem to have caused a stir in Ludlow. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“As long as you print the correct facts and not continue with misconstructions and misinterpretations. At least you have had the decency of coming in person.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll switch on my recorder and give you a copy of the tape. Now it appears you are a rich man looking at the surroundings, a millionaire?”
“You can check with the London estate agents so you will find that this pile is for sale for offers over four million so I must be worthy of a multi millionaire status, asset rich but cash poor at this moment in time.”
“It seems you have been a spendthrift Mr. Granger in rapidly disposing of your savings?”
“Big family, big pile here to look after and money doesn’t go far these days.”
“Enough for a luxurious holidays in the South of France for family and friends I hear.”
“If camping in Brittany counts as being luxurious in your book. Living costs were cheaper in France and you can’t beat the weather over there.”
“I understand you are claiming all the State benefits that one can. Do you think that is fair in your palatial circumstances? You have even been labelled a ‘Scrounger.’ Any comments?”
“I wondered when you would turn the interview to that topic. At this moment I am destitute and a pauper. If it wasn’t the help from the State my family would be split up and the costs to the Public Purse would be twice as high. Is that wise in the current financial state of the Country and we have a self-confessed compassionate Chancellor in charge of affairs.”
“Couldn’t you just sell this place?”
“That’s what I’m currently trying to do. Firstly, I don’t want to give it away and secondly the state of the market isn’t helpful, plus the fifty ‘P’ tax and mansion tax being banded about, the punters are sitting on their hands until the Government gets some order and confidence into the financial affairs of the Country.”
“You wife is still claiming housing allowances I hear Mr. Granger.”
“Ah, you’re touching on the juicy fraud angle. Let me assure you that I have consulted a professional Benefits expert on this whole matter and you won’t find a penny out of place.”
“What about the red agricultural fuel with no duty that you are using in your vehicles?”
“Ah, that red herring. This property is classified as a farm or small holding and I hold a legal licence and the right to store the ‘Red’ fuel in question and I use it in my tractor, mowing machines and other machinery; definitely not in the minibus or the old car over there which is petrol driven anyway. The police keep stopping us and going away red faced.”
“So, what do you say to your detractors Mr. Granger? You haven’t taken any legal action against them. Doesn’t that suggest you’re hiding something under the carpet?”
“If you have done your research, you will have found that my wife suffered a severe dose of character assassination at your hands previously. She just wants a quiet life and our real friends in the community are most supportive. I’m sorry that you have come on a wild goose chase with no juicy copy.”
“As you probably realise Mr. Granger, the press are under the cosh at the present. An article criticising the rogue side of our family demonstrates that we have elements of self regulation.”
“Isn’t this more of an own goal scenario? Will we see any of this correct information in your paper?”
“I doubt if it makes headline news but you can expect a few filler columns in our paper and I’ll put it out on the web and some publications may bite with the correct version even local TV. Here is a copy tape which you can use to compare what’s in print. Thanks for your time Mr. Granger. It wasn’t all a wasted journey. I wish you luck in your life. Bye.”
A year later a pompous Birmingham businessman bought Grange House for near the asking price but only wanted the shell and the immediate grounds. He had plans to massively extend the place for whatever unknown reason, so I rented the Show Field and Gravel pit to Owen for a peppercorn rent. The paddocks including the lane I rented to the current pony tenants. Edna was allocated the wood for a pepper corn rent so that her grandchildren could continue to visit. The Rights of Way issue and planned pathways were never resolved. I got a lucrative job with a Private Equity firm in London and we all moved to Richmond. Owen took away all the farm vehicles and machinery and Lilly sold off much of the furniture and unwanted nick-knacks plus the dozen or so noisy grandfather clocks. A neighbour down the road wanted my container styled garden house and again this provided the students at the Technical Department at the college with a project to deconstruct and move the whole thing half a mile down the road.
With the proceeds of the sale of Grange House we were able to buy two tired Victorian houses in terraces of four and ours, luckily, were the adjoining end ones, with a broad garden area between. We had to renovate throughout and took the opportunity to link them across into an elongated terrace to house our growing family. Underground garages accessed by a car lift and basement swimming pools with gyms and saunas were high on our priority list to continue the good life we had in Ludlow. Apart from Emily all the children were now in private schools using up the trust funds we had set up earlier. I also sold my substantial holding in my first wife’s business which was still doing well, to fund the schooling and building works. A Polish chef joined us plus a Philippino nanny and a Russian girl to do the cleaning and household chores. They were housed in the substantial attics. Sandra found a part time job in a Lawyer’s firm in Richmond which helped with the daily expenses. My greatest joy was that Sandra now displayed the happy demeanour that she had in Brittany.
‘Ain’t life grand!’
