The Money Makers (77 page)

‘There’s nothing written. You can’t prove anything.’ That was true. Zack had told Banderman enough of the story to persuade him to come up with the cash.

Zack had said that there had to be nothing in writing, nothing at all to document the fact that the money was a loan not a gift. Banderman had agreed. But even as he picked up the phone to authorise the transfer, he said, ‘We won’t put this into writing, but you and I both understand that this is a loan. If you don’t pay it back, then I will personally come and murder you. Got that, scum-face?’ Zack had agreed, of course. He hadn’t imagined any possible comeback. But what if Banderman were dragged on to the witness stand? What would he say? Weinstein Lukes prided itself on the integrity of its employees, and Banderman would no more lie under oath than he would commit burglary. Josephine resumed, dreamily.

‘No. I doubt if I’ll be able to prove anything. Perhaps I can. Perhaps Dixon Banderman will tell the full story. But to get the money, you would have to demonstrate to the satisfaction of the court that the money was not borrowed. And that would be pretty tough, wouldn’t it? Be pretty tough to get a jury to swallow that one.’

She trailed off. Zack’s face was white and his lips moved in silence. She was right. Even if Dixon were to pretend the money was a gift, who on earth would believe him? Banderman was a wealthy man, but no man, no matter how wealthy, just gives away quarter of a million pounds to an all-but-new employee. One inch - no more - separated Zack from his father’s fortune, but try as he might, he couldn’t find a way to cross that last tiny distance. His lips worked in silence. He was beaten. The inch was wide as the Pacific, high as the Himalayas.

‘I can still make you give back my million even if I don’t try to claim the estate.’ Even in defeat, Zack couldn’t concede. His voice was petulant now, spiteful and bitter.

Josephine watched him for a moment impassively, then answered him.

‘Of course, you could make me give your million back. After all, you’ll need to find at least two hundred and fifty grand with which to pay back Banderman. But before you try, just consider this. If you sue me, then I swear that you will never see a penny of Dad’s money. If you don’t sue, if you leave me with the million I stole from you, then I might decide to give you some of it. I’m not saying I will. I’m just saying you have a chance, depending on how I feel. It’s up to you.’

Zack was unable to speak, and Matthew spoke the question uppermost in his mind.

‘What are you going to do with the estate, Josie?’

She looked at him sharply. She was in complete control of the room now, all the cards in her hand.

‘Well, I haven’t quite decided on everything,’ she said. ‘But whatever happens, I’m not going to sell Gradley Plant Hire. I’m going to run that as a business and I have every expectation of doing extremely well with it. I’ve already found myself an excellent managing director.’

‘Eh? Who?’

Josephine indicated George with a tiny wave of her hand. George received Matthew’s glance and nodded in confirmation.

‘You? What’s going to happen to Gissings, then?’

‘Oh, I shan’t sell Gissings. I’ll just ask somebody else to run it, and as a matter of fact I’ve already found myself an excellent managing director too.’

George indicated Val with a tiny wave of his hand, and Val smiled at Matthew in embarrassed acknowledgement. Matthew stared at Josephine, George and Val. So they’d all been in on this, had they? George got to keep his precious little factory, while simultaneously stepping up to the big time with Dad’s old company.

‘Congratulations,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you’ll do a good job - both do a good job, I mean,’ nodding to include Val. ‘And what about - I mean, Josie ... are you going to keep all the shares to yourself or will you share them out?’

Josie shrugged. ‘Oh, no. I shan’t keep them all. George will get a quarter. After all, I want my managing director to have some incentives.’

‘And us, Josie, what about us?’

Matthew indicated himself and Zack. Josie stared at them like they were zoo animals. She shrugged.

‘I don’t know, Matthew.’ For the first time, a tremble entered her voice and the dazzle of sunlight on her face told of emotion in her eyes. ‘What I do know is that while I struggled for three years to look after Mum, George was the only one of you who did right by her. When I was really struggling, he emptied out his wallet to give me literally his last money in the world, even though he’d been living in a van, and even though he hadn’t drawn so much as one penny in salary. I know that he visited when he could, that he phoned every week at least, that he sent cards and presents and money, that he and Val treated me and Mum as welcome guests not as embarrassing intruders. I know that he deserves every bit of good fortune now. And as for you two, I honestly don’t know. You, Matthew, tried to be nice, but in the end the thought that Zack might beat you to the million stopped you every time. And as for you, Zack, your performance just now shows where your heart really lies. Right now, I haven’t made any decisions. I’m off on holiday. With Mum, to the Caribbean. George and Val are coming too. We’ll be there for two weeks. Maybe when I come back, I’ll have simmered down a bit, but then again, maybe I won’t. You’ll just have to wait and see.’

Nobody answered her. There was nothing much to say. Augustus Earle, who had vanished off into a world of his own amongst the papers on his desk, suddenly sprang back to life.

‘Zack, Matthew. I have a question to ask each of you. Do either of you dispute Josephine’s right to the money she - er - transferred from your accounts last night?’

‘She hadn’t any right,’ muttered Zack.

‘That’s not what I mean. I mean do either of you now contest that the money is hers? Will you seek to reclaim it?’

The two brothers shook their heads.

‘Good. Now, Josephine, I’ve been rereading the will, and this legal opinion you’ve given me. I believe you’re right. I believe we can justify an interpretation along the lines you’ve talked about. Frankly, it’s a stretch. It’s not what Bernard intended and you know that as well as I do. But
I don’t want to stand in the way of justice, and I’m sure my fellow executors won’t want to either. So far as I can see, the only major stumbling block would be if any of your brothers chose to contest your entitlement in court. But
I take it that none of them will do that. Am I right?’

The two brothers nodded in silence. George sat motionless. His opinion was already fairly clear.

‘Excellent. And you will be willing to confirm all this in writing?’

They nodded again. Earle noticed that at some point, he hadn’t noticed when, the old grandfather clock had found new life in its springs and was beating out time across the carpet as before.

‘Then, Josephine, I shall call a meeting of my fellow executors immediately. I am confident that we shall be able to release the estate into your hands within a matter of days. May I be the first to wish you my heartiest congratulations and to wish you an extremely pleasant holiday.’

‘Thank you,’ said Josephine, making ready to leave.

And as she did so, the old clock paused for breath, began to whirr, then rang out the noonday chimes, an hour or so late, but sweet and clear as ever.

Epilogue

1

And so it was. Bernard Gradley’s estate passed in its entirety to his only daughter. Her first act on taking possession of the company was to call a meeting of the board, at which she installed herself as chairwoman and her brother George as managing director. George was to receive a salary of eighty thousand pounds, modest by the standards of a large company, and he was entitled to no bonus, no share options, nor any other perks. But Josephine also transferred into his name a parcel of shares which, as promised, gave him one quarter of the whole company. That was incentive enough.

George spent his first three weeks buried in the company records. He read the accounts, he tried to understand the business, he went on site tours and interviewed his principal managers. At the end of it he was breathless with excitement. ‘There’s no stopping us, Val,’ he confided to his fiancée. ‘This company’s got bags of potential, and for once it hasn’t mortgaged away its future. The sky’s the limit here.’ Val was pleased for him, of course. She knew that George’s ambitions wanted a bigger arena than Gissings could now provide, and she saw his excitement and encouraged him. But she was pleased for other reasons too. They were soon to be married and there was joy for Val in every detail of the wedding preparations. They were looking round for a new home and had already seen a number of gorgeous houses with room for kids and dogs aplenty. George wanted a big dog: a Labrador perhaps, or a collie. Val wanted something smaller: a spaniel probably or maybe even a terrier. But there was no hurry. They’d choose in their own good time and Val knew she’d get her way.

And then there was Gissings. They called a board meeting there too, at which George resigned as managing director and appointed Val in his place. Val would have to make do with the meagre salary that George had put up with, but she too was given an incentive. George transferred half of Gissings into her name and - most important of all - wrote out a cheque which completely cancelled Gissings’ debt to David Ballard.

‘Congratulations you two. Don’t you lose touch just because of this,’ said Ballard, waving the cheque. ‘I’m not going to retire happy until I’ve seen you, Val, buy out the Aspertons and you, George, notch up your first fifty million profit. I tell you, there’ll be no prouder man in heaven tonight than your late father, George, my lad.’

George wasn’t sure that Bernard would be too fussed. If he’d managed to barge through the pearly gates at all, he’d be too busy establishing his harp rental business to think about the family he’d left behind. If he had taken it into his head to look, though, he’d have liked George’s new desk ornament. In the centre of George’s impressive desk (a special order from Gissings, of course), there stood a black plastic pedestal bearing a die-cast model of a forklift truck. Like his father, George would sooner have died than sell his shares in the company he now managed.

Val normally didn’t go in for trifles, but she too had a memento she was reluctant to throw away. It was a fax from David Thurston and Kelly O’Shea. When George had rejected their first offer, they’d reported the news to their Strategy Committee, which was astonished by the rejection. The Committee approved a higher offer, contained in the fax, which valued Gissings at six million pounds exactly. George hadn’t responded despite a series of increasingly frantic phone calls from across the Atlantic, but Val had kept it. Up in heaven, there was another ex-businessman keeping a watchful eye on his former baby. Tom Gissing would have been astonished and proud to know that anybody valued his business as highly as that, and he’d have been equally astonished to see its new managing director. Val was determined to make it worth even more in the future and, free of debt, began to concoct plans for a major overhaul of the ailing plant. Andrew Walters had mentioned his intention to take early retirement and Val chose Darren to take the lead on the plant renovation.

2

Matthew was happy too. He’d come home from work one day to find Fiona radiant in one of her rarely seen evening gowns. No sooner had he come through the door than she grabbed him gently between the legs and drew him after her in to their living room. The room was filled with flowers: white ones, lilies, roses, gypsophila, carnations, anthemis, orchids, white lilac; flowers in every vase, jug and bowl the house contained; flowers on every table, every shelf, on the arms of the chairs, on the sofa, on the floor. The air was thick with perfume and Matthew’s nose tickled. On the living-room table was a small box, bearing the signature of Asprey & Garrard, the queen’s jewellers.

‘I’m ready, Matthew. I’m finally, genuinely ready,’ she said.

Matthew took her hand and dropped to his knee.

‘Dearest Fiona,’ he said, ‘will you marry me?’

She didn’t answer him directly, but by the time they were done kissing, a diamond ring had made its way out of the little box on the table and on to Fiona’s ring finger. They were engaged.

Matthew had lost his million and lost his claim on his father’s wealth. He regretted this, but not excessively. He was glad beyond words not to have to deal with Belial any more, glad too that he had no secrets from Fiona or from Madison, glad to have proved something in the process. He would earn more bonuses. He was a good trader and now that his attention was focused entirely on the bank’s business, he’d do better yet. In time, he hoped to become a managing director alongside Fiona and they’d have money enough to bathe in. In time, he expected Josephine to relent. She’d give him back his million and maybe even some of her shares, in which case they’d have enough to swim in. Time would tell. Matthew wasn’t in a hurry.

3

Then there was Zack. He didn’t travel back up to London after the final climactic scene at the solicitor’s. He got into his car and drove round the country trying to make sense of what had happened. He thought about Sarah and the calamitous state of Hatherleigh Pacific. He thought about Weinstein Lukes, about Dixon Banderman, and about the quarter of a million pounds which he owed and didn’t have. He thought about Robert Leighton and Hal Gillingham. He thought about his sister, brothers, father and mother. He drove randomly until nightfall, finding himself finally a short distance north of Oxford. He drove there, banging on his old tutor’s door at half-past ten.