The Holiday Home (2 page)

He hadn’t gone far before he lost count, the number falling from his memory as soon as he saw the old fortified wooden door in the side of the house. Natural curiosity and the desire to faithfully record every room led him to descend the four stone steps to the door. Half hoping to find it locked, he was surprised when it opened easily, releasing an aroma of sea damp and age that seemed to envelop him. The interior was pitch-dark and he could hear the distant sound of the sea coming up from below. In the light of the setting sun he struggled to make out the odd-shaped room, which seemed almost cave-like. As he stepped over the threshold, he felt a prickling at the base of his spine. Not fear, quite, but a warning not to go any further. After his unnerving experience on the balcony, Trevor decided it might be wise to let the surveyor check this one out. Closing the door behind him, he scampered up the steps away from the gloom and into the daylight.

On the drive back to the office he rehearsed the story he would tell Trish. Best to leave out the brush with death and the dark forebodings, he decided. As far as Trish was concerned, the house was a gem. In need of renovation, but a unique opportunity to acquire a charming period home with stunning aspects. Yes, that should do nicely on the particulars.

1

A
s the wind whipped at her silk scarf, Dorothy struggled to tighten the knot that secured it under her chin. Although it was a sunny day with clear blue skies, it was bitterly cold. Not the ideal weather for motoring in an open-topped car.

Henry took his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at her. ‘Not too cold?’

‘A little.’ She shrugged herself further down into her sheepskin coat.

He smiled, not hearing her. ‘Jolly good.’

They had set off from their house in the Home Counties that morning, en route for Cornwall and a property described in the
Country Life
advertisement as:

An unmissable and rare opportunity to purchase this perfect Cornish Holiday/Family house. Accommodation comprises six bedrooms, two bathrooms, drawing room, dining room, morning room and study. Spacious original Victorian family kitchen. The master bedroom, with dressing room and en-suite bathroom, has its own balcony offering panoramic ocean views. All rooms on the ocean-facing side of the house boast equally stunning aspects. Set in half an acre of mature cliff-top gardens with private access to the public beach of Treviscum Bay. The property is in need of some modernisation. Despite its age (built circa 1720) it is currently unlisted.

‘Take the next left,’ Dorothy, fighting with the turning pages of her road map, shouted above the wind as her husband sat grinning at the wheel of his new Aston Martin Virage Volante.

‘What?’

‘Next left. To Bodmin.’

‘Left here?’

She nodded vigorously and pointed with her gloved hand at the signpost.

He smiled. ‘Righto, Number One.’ He slowed the V8 engine to a throaty rumble and took the exit.

Henry couldn’t believe how wonderfully his life had turned out. Who’d have thought he’d rise to this, given the dire straits he’d found himself in a decade ago.

On the death of his father, Henry had inherited Carew Family Board Games. Unfortunately the firm that had been his father’s pride and joy was by this time a dinosaur in a shrinking market. Nobody wanted to play board games any more, even if they did have beautifully hand-crafted pieces and block-printed boards. Henry had been left an albatross, complete with a mountain of debt, a loyal workforce he couldn’t afford, and a factory with outdated machinery making parlour-game staples such as Ludo, Snakes and Ladders and Draughts. Settling the death duties on his father’s estate had left him with no means to pay his own mortgage, let alone bail out the firm. In despair, he invited his bank manager out to lunch, hoping that a sumptuous five-course meal would secure him an extension to his business loan. It took the manager less than fifteen minutes to turn down the request. Indeed, if the current overdraft wasn’t reduced forthwith, Henry’s factory and machines would be repossessed by the bank.

‘But my father was with your bank for more than forty years. Please, if you just bear with me a while longer, I won’t let you down,’ pleaded Henry.

The bank manager, a fat man who enjoyed golf and making his customers squirm, shook his head sadly.

‘Henry, your father was a close friend and a good man, but he didn’t move with the times. Unless you can give me a sound business plan, some reason why the bank should reinvest, my answer has to be no.’

Henry took a deep breath and looked the smug slug in the eye. ‘I have an idea for a game that will knock Trivial Pursuit, Cluedo and Monopoly into a cocked hat. I can’t say more because our competitors must not get wind of it.’

‘My dear boy, what is it?’

‘I told you, I can’t say. But if I were to offer you my house as collateral, would you let me have the money I need?’

The slug stirred an extra spoonful of sugar into his coffee, thinking.

‘OK, I’ll authorise the loan – but only for six months. After that …’ he continued stirring, his lips curving upward in a smirk, ‘… the bank moves in.’

The relief Henry had felt at securing the loan evaporated at the prospect of this odious man and his bank getting their hands on his home and Carew Family Board Games. Unfortunately there was a major flaw in his new business plan. The top secret game that was going to take the world by storm didn’t exist.

Henry drove back to the factory and locked himself into his father’s old office. How could he have been so rash and stupid? How the hell was he going to invent a blockbuster of a game in a year, let alone six months?

He pulled out the bottom drawer of his father’s desk and found the bottle of Scotch Dad had always kept there. He opened it and put it to his lips with a silent prayer:
Dad, I need your help. I’m in the shit and some of it’s your fault. Give me an idea, a way out of this mess.

He sat back in the tilting revolving wooden chair and put his feet up on the desk.

What am I going to do, Dad? I’m going to lose the factory and my home. A hundred people will be out of a job. People who loved you and trusted you. They are expecting me to make everything all right, but I’m afraid I’ve cocked it up.
He took another swig of Scotch.

It was some time later when Old Reg, the foreman and longest-serving member of staff, came to say good night. He found Henry, his eyes red from tears, sitting in his father’s chair, the bottle of Scotch half-empty. Reg saw it all and knew without asking that it was only a matter of time before Carew Family Board Games became a footnote in history. Murmuring, ‘Good night, Mr Henry,’ he closed the office door gently behind him.

*

Henry’s brain was in turmoil. Had he committed fraud? Could making a false promise be construed as extorting money from the bank? Would he be arrested? Could he afford a lawyer? What would happen to Dorothy and the girls? Lawyers were expensive. He was only trying to do the best for his workforce, his family. Oh God, he’d go to jail. He’d better get a lawyer.

In a panic, he dug out his father’s old address book and flipped to the ‘L’ tab. His finger traced down the pages.

‘Lawyer, lawyer,’ he muttered under his breath. He stopped for a moment and said the words again: ‘Lawyer, lawyer.’ Feverishly he picked up a pencil and began writing the words, followed by
DEFENDANT. JUDGE. JURY.
Then he drew two boxes and wrote
GUILTY
in one and
NOT GUILTY
in the other.

He phoned home and told Dorothy not to expect him back for supper.

*

The next morning he called a meeting on the shop floor for every member of staff. He hadn’t slept all night, he reeked of body odour and alcohol. They expected the worst.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for giving me your time today. Carew Family Board Games was my father’s proudest achievement. Many of you worked with him and loved him as I did. You miss him as I miss him. I am very grateful that you have remained so loyal to me as I try to fill his shoes. But the truth is, the world is changing and this company is struggling. When arcade games and the Rubik’s Cube came on to the market, my father thought they would be a flash in the pan. “Nothing can beat the fun of a family sitting round the table playing Ludo,” was his mantra.’ Some of the older employees laughed in remembrance of this. ‘He was wrong, though. We are on the brink of insolvency.’

There was a subdued murmur from the group, and then Reg spoke up: ‘Are you shutting us down, Mr Carew?’

Henry swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. ‘I hope not, Reg. I have an idea for a new game. A board game that I think could beat even Monopoly for world sales. The World Toy Fair is four months away: if we can have the new game ready by then, we’ll secure the orders we need to turn this company round – but I need your help and your faith to pull it off. This is the promise I make to you: if I can’t turn this company round in the next six months, I will sell everything I have – bar my house, which is promised to the bank …’ He paused, gulping back the tears that threatened. ‘And I will split the proceeds between you. However, if we make this game a success, you will all become partners, sharing in the profit.’

His workforce stood, incredulous. Some of the older women who remembered the boom years were sniffing into screwed-up tissues. The younger workers looked dumbstruck. In the end it was Reg who stepped forward and asked, ‘What do we have to do?’

*

It took Henry and the team just two weeks to produce the cardboard prototype of Lawyer, Lawyer. Four sets were made and taken home in turn by the Carew workers. Each day they would come in with suggestions, refinements and clearer rules. Finally everyone was in agreement that they had the definitive version. A game of cat and mouse between the law and the citizen. Reg oversaw the first factory-made prototype as it came off the production line.

It was beautiful. The box lid depicted Number One Court of the Old Bailey. In the dock stood a decent but anxious-looking man. On the bench sat a hideous gargoyle of a judge bearing an uncanny resemblance to Henry’s bank manager. And taking the floor was a smart lawyer, thumbs in his lapels and smiling wolfishly at the jury.

Reg carried it with pride to the boardroom and placed it on the elliptical table. The workers came and filed past it as it lay in state.

That afternoon, Dorothy dialled the local Chinese takeaway and ordered a supper for everyone. It was a party not one of them would forget.

On the eve of the World Toy Fair, Henry carefully packed the newly manufactured boxes of Lawyer, Lawyer into the back of his rented Rascal van. Dorothy was already settled in the passenger seat. The entire workforce gathered in the car park to wave them off.

Old Reg leaned in and put his hand on Henry’s shoulder. ‘Good luck, Mr Henry. Your father would be proud of you.’

Henry put the car in gear and drove carefully out of the factory car park, Dorothy waving from the window while he tooted the horn until they were all out of sight.

The World Toy Fair at Olympia was very familiar to Henry. He’d worked a stand there with his father from the time he was a boy. Only when his father fell ill did they stop attending. His death had left Henry without the cash or wherewithal to organise a stand. Now, he found himself looking forward to it. But at the same time he was consumed with nerves.

He glanced at Dorothy and said, ‘What if this doesn’t work?’

She smiled back at him. ‘It’ll work.’

‘We could lose every—’

‘We could, but we won’t.’

Most exhibitors had booked a year in advance. When Dorothy had called to make a reservation four months previously, there were few slots remaining. They were allocated a stand on an outside corner.

‘You wouldn’t put a hen in a space as small as this,’ complained Henry when he saw it.

Dorothy, who was staggering under several boxes of order forms and fliers, ignored his pessimism. ‘Help me with these, will you?’ she said, thrusting the surprisingly heavy boxes towards him. Then she looked around, hands resting on her slender hips. ‘Small but perfect. We’re handy for the loo and the café – think of the footfall we’ll have. Couldn’t be better.’

He grudgingly nodded. ‘Suppose so.’

‘Come on, Prince Charming – two more trips and the van will be unloaded.’

Dorothy was a good organiser. By midnight, their little stall looked inviting and ready for the official opening in the morning. Several other exhibitors broke off setting up their own stands and dropped by to chat and reminisce about Henry’s father. One or two were desperate to get a look inside the Lawyer, Lawyer boxes, but Dorothy was having none of it. ‘The premiere is tomorrow, boys! No peeking till then.’

The four days that followed were the busiest they’d ever known. The opening morning was slow, but that afternoon the buyer for Hamleys came by. After Henry talked him through the rules, he couldn’t resist playing a round. Henry let him win, obviously, and the buyer put an order in for such a large amount that Dorothy thought she’d misheard and left a zero off the end. When the buyer leaned over and corrected her, she couldn’t stop herself from kissing him. After that, word of mouth spread quickly. Every toyshop chain and department store was clamouring to place an order for the exciting new game.

As soon as they returned to the factory, the production line got into gear. For the first time in the history of the company, the machines were rolling twenty-four hours a day, five days a week. Extra night-shift staff were taken on to meet the orders, which were coming in from as far afield as Australia and Japan.

Within months Lawyer, Lawyer was the game on every family’s Christmas list. The fat bank manager invited Henry out for lunch. Henry accepted the invitation and was delighted when he heard the name of the restaurant: very expensive and excellent reviews. Henry selected the most extravagantly priced dishes and wine, enjoying the wincing expression of the slug sitting opposite.