Neville was fuming when he left the Station Inn after the meeting with Albert and John. He could not believe how someone could be so dismissive of the progress he had made trying to trace Albert’s family. He had spent his own money and his own time travelling to people and places that might offer some clues to Albert’s past. He had parked his car nearby, and by the time he reached it, he had calmed down somewhat by reminding himself it was John that had been so rude and not Albert. John had obviously been drinking and it was likely there were some ulterior motives, unknown to Neville, why he had reacted in the way he had.
When he arrived home, he called Marie to tell her about the call with A.J. Waterson and the fruitless meeting with Albert and John. Marie was very understanding when he explained how upset he was that Albert had not appreciated his efforts. She reminded him it was John who had been antagonistic, and that Albert was probably appreciative of what he had done. After all, he now had the name and phone number of someone who knew Albert’s brother and probably would be able to help him with some other questions about his past. Neville felt comforted by her reassurance and recalled how comfortable he had been in her company during their time together in Barnshead. It had felt so natural talking together and planning how they would meet with Jane Wheatley and how they laughed and joked afterwards when they recalled her eccentric manner. He asked if they could meet again. Marie explained she would be working at the library on Saturday, but her day off in the week was Wednesday and if he could arrange for some free time they could spend the day together. Neville hesitated for a moment considering his availability for the coming Wednesday. He told Marie he was due some holiday and would be glad to meet her that day.
They arranged to meet outside the library, as this would be easy for Neville to find and close to where he could park his car. Although he had started his journey early, assuming he would arrive in plenty of time, there were a number of hold ups on route so he was about twenty minutes late when he arrived in Barnshead. Neville was concerned if Marie would still be waiting however, he need not have been worried as he found her sitting on the steps of the library.
“Do you fancy a walk,” she asked even before Neville could apologies for being late. “We can go and feed the ducks down by the river,” she suggested holding up a plastic carrier bag containing some dry loaves of bread.
“That would be great,” answered Neville. He had not really planned anything for the day and was grateful Marie had made a suggestion.
A deep gorge, through which flowed the river Barns, separated the two halves of the town. There were a number of bridges crossing the gorge, providing road and rail connections to each half of the town. Marie and Neville walked across one of the road bridges and then at the side of the bridge descended a steep set of mossy steps to the bottom of the gorge and the riverside. Ducks of various shapes, colours and sizes, immediately surrounded them as Marie took out the dry bread from the plastic bag, the sounds of their ducks calls echoing from the stone sides of the gorge.
“I should have brought more bread,” Marie said as she shook out the crumbs from the bottom of the bag, “they made short work of that. We often came here on a Sunday afternoon to feed the ducks, before the cafe opened in the evening.”
“Who’s we?” enquired Neville.
“Oh, me and my parents and sometimes my brother. He’s older than me and sometimes he would say he was too old for that sort of thing and found excuses not to come.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“Yes he’s married with two children. They live in France so we do not see them very often.”
Marie coughed and took up the pose of an old time music hall artist about to present a monologue.
“All along the backwater, through the rushes tall, ducks are a-dabbling, up tails all!”
“Was that Keats or someone?” enquired Neville mischievously.
“No, it was Wind in the Willows, haven't you heard it?”
“If I had I would certainly be making a doctor’s appointment!”
Marie and Neville laughed and giggled like innocent schoolchildren hearing a rude joke at a pantomime.
It was April and the weather forecast suggested it would be a sunny day with clear skies and gentle breezes. The forecaster’s promise had so far been correct, however, there was very little sunshine in the gorge and it was cold and damp. Marie started to shiver.
“We had better climb back up to the road,” Neville suggested noticing Marie’s reaction to the cold.
“No, that’s OK, if we walk farther downstream the gorge opens out and we’ll find ourselves back in the sunlight. There’s a place down there where you can hire a rowing boat. The family would take a boat sometimes and my brother never missed those days.”
After about fifteen minutes walk the sides of the gorge started to recede and become less high, and further walking brought them to an area where little more than a high grass bank bounded the river. Rounding a bend in the river they saw a wooden boathouse and landing.
“There are usually rowing boats tied to that landing,” Marie remarked, “It’s such a long time since I was here, perhaps they do not hire the boats anymore.”
A notice pinned to the side of the boathouse gave details of the boat hire and confirmed the season was May to September.
“That’s a pity,” remarked Marie, “I thought perhaps we could take a boat, it would remind me of the old times.”
They turned around to walk away when Neville noticed someone moving inside the boathouse.
“There’s someone in there,” he said, perhaps I could persuade him to let us have a boat even if it is out of season. “I’ll use my sales charm.”
He went back to the boathouse and tapped on the window. A man dressed in paint covered overalls opened the side door and asked if he could help.
“My girlfriend and I have driven so far today just to see this stretch of the river, it was recommended to us you see, and she is so disappointed to find the boathouse closed, she was really looking forward to being rowed down the river whilst she recited poetry. She’s such a romantic you see and apparently this part of the river was made famous by some poet or other. Is there any chance we could take out one of your boats it would mean the world to her, and me?”
“Well as you can see we are all closed up, I’m in the middle of repairing and painting the boats before the season starts.”
“How much do you normally charge?”
“It’s five pounds for the hour.”
“I’ll double that and give you ten.”
The man in the overalls scratched his head and looked around.
“Well there is that one over there; I finished painting it a couple of weeks ago. It shouldn’t be too difficult to get her out on the water. It will have to be one hour maximum, not a minute over, I need to close up.”
“One hour it is,” agreed Neville feeling rather pleased with himself.
The two men launched the rowing boat and whilst the boatman went for the oars Neville called Marie over to show her the results of his persuasive skills.
“Hello Marie,” the boatman said when he returned with the oars.
“Hello Jim,” replied Marie, “will you be there on Tuesday?”
“Yes I’ll be there, Ashley wouldn’t miss it for the world; she really looks forward to it after school.”
Marie and Neville climbed into the boat with Neville in the middle preparing to row. Jim, the boatman gave the boat a push and tapped his watch as he looked at Neville.
“Who is that?” Neville asked rather sheepishly.
“His name’s Jim, he brings his daughter to my reading club at the library.”
“I’ve just told him the most ridiculous story to try to persuade him to rent us the boat. I feel such a fool.”
“You seem to making a habit of telling stories to get what you want,” Marie giggled, “I hope you didn’t pay him any money, he would probably have let us have it for free.”
The weather forecast had only remained true during the morning and by the time they returned with the rowing boat black clouds had already started to drift across a previously blue sky. With the threat of rain, they decided to walk back towards the town, which proved to be a good decision, as they were able to shelter in a cafe as it started to rain. The walk and the rowing had built up an appetite so they were grateful for the chance of some food as well as the shelter.
Neville asked about Marie’s background as her surname of Giroux suggested she had French connections. She explained that her father had been an Onion Johnny in the 1950’s. He brought onions over the channel from Brittany and sold them in the English towns and villages. His career, dressed in a striped jumper, riding a bicycle draped in strings of onions and wearing a beret, did not last long as he had met Marie’s mother on one of his visits. The marriage soon followed and after working together in a number of hotels and restaurants, they were finally able to open one of their own.
“Tell me about your job in the library?” Neville asked whilst he waited for his soup to be served.
“It’s just a library, what is there to tell,” replied Marie.
“I can imagine it gets quite boring.”
“Oh no it’s not boring, and don’t get me wrong I really enjoy the work I do. It’s a privilege to be able to provide a service to people, to help them, offer advice and of course there is the children’s reading club twice week. Children between the ages of about three and seven come into the library after school and I read them a story. The look on their faces and the excitement in their eyes, well it’s worth more than my salary.”
“Yes I can see that, there are some things that money just can’t buy,” Neville commented in rather a reflective mood.
“What about your job, it must be very exciting working in sales?” Marie enquired.
“I once thought so, but now things seem to have changed. I suppose it’s obvious to say it, but the job is all about money. Just the opposite of yours I guess. I deal with businesses whose only aim in life is to make money, and the ones that are not doing so well I walk in there and try to persuade them that advertising will solve all their problems. If it works they make more money and whether it works or not the newspaper still makes money.”
“That seems a rather cynical view of the world, there must be some businesses that are providing services or at least creating jobs for local people.”
“Yes, but these seem to be secondary aims behind that of making money. A company will only hire people if they are making money or in an effort to make more. They do not employ people simply to give them work, and as soon as the business takes a downturn the first to suffer are the employees who are laid off.”
The soup arrived, which interrupted Neville who felt he was in danger of making a speech.
“You sound like a priest who has lost his faith,” Marie observed.
“That’s just the way I feel. I’m a salesman that no longer believes in making money, how crazy is that.”
The meal continued in silence, both thinking about what Neville had just said.
He had already stopped attending his business studies course. He convinced himself it was the inadequacies of the course material but in reality he knew he no longer believed in the principals being presented to the course participants.
They both felt comfortable with the silence, but as often happened in these cases; they both eventually broke the silence trying to talk at once. Neville insisted that Marie spoke first.
“As the weather no longer looks very settled I was going to suggest that we spend the rest of the day indoors. There is a country club a short drive from here where I am a member. Well it’s actually a family membership. There is a swimming pool, tennis and squash courts, but before you say that sounds far too energetic after we’ve just finished our lunch, they also have a games room where we can play snooker, pool, or bar billiards. We could even play cards if you really insist. How does that sound?”
“That sounds like a great idea. I’m not going to insist we play cards, I assume from the way you said it it’s not your favourite past time.”
“OK, we can set off when we’ve finished our coffee. What were you going to say?”
“I was going to say, wouldn’t it be great if we could find somewhere to play bar billiards. You must have read my mind.”
Neville decided against saying what he was really thinking. He had recently received a phone call from Sarah his ex-girlfriend. Her work in the US was not going well and she had decided to return to England. She had asked Neville if they could meet when she returned. Although there had been no further explanation he felt sure she was planning to ask him if they could get back together. As he looked across the table at Marie, could he truthfully tell Sarah that while she had been away he had met someone else?
A wrought iron gate and a long gravel drive provided the entrance to the Country Club. Neville assumed the building would look like an old stately home after such a grand approach but was surprised to see it was a very modern structure with large areas of glass. Attached to the side of the glass building was an old stone cottage that was all that remained of the original house. There were only few cars parked at the side of the building and Marie explained that the club was very busy at the weekends and in the evenings, but Wednesday afternoon was one of the quieter times and they should not have any difficulty using any of the facilities in the games room.
The entrance was through the cottage and after Marie signed the visitor’s book, she suggested that Neville wait for her in the reading room at the side of the reception while she “powdered her nose”. Neville’s wait seemed longer than he anticipated, but he reminded himself that women could take an inordinate amount of time at the toilet. Marie finally appeared. She practically skipped across the room towards him clapping her hands and looking like a child presented with a special birthday present.
“You will never guess who I’ve just seen?” Marie was so excited her mouth could barely form the words quickly enough. “You’ll never guess, so I’ll tell you. A.J. Waterson, the man Miss Wheatley told us about, the one who knows Albert’s brother.
“How do you know it’s him,” replied Neville, not quite believing what she had just said.
“If you remember I said before that I had seen his picture in the newspaper. I wasn’t certain it was him so I asked the bartender and he confirmed it was Mr Waterson. He’s sat in the lounge bar at a table with some other people. What are you going to do?”
Neville’s first instinct was to do nothing. The last meeting with Albert was still clear in his mind and his emotions were still raw after the reaction of John Turner to the efforts he had made on Albert’s behalf. He reminded himself that John had caused him to be upset; nonetheless, he was also disappointed that Albert had not supported him or seemingly expressed any gratitude for what he had achieved. However, he also felt he should take any opportunity to help Albert and if A.J. Waterson was able to do that, he felt obliged at least to try to speak to him, despite A.J.’s previous assertion that he would not discuss Albert with anyone except Albert himself.
“Mr Waterson is it possible I could speak to you for a moment?” Neville had interrupted the conversation of four men sat around a table in the lounge bar. He felt uncomfortable doing this, particularly as he remembered the voice of A.J. Waterson when he spoke previously on the phone and suspected he was not a man who would appreciate an interruption.
“Yes young man what is it?”
“My name is Conrad, Neville Conrad, I called you a couple of weeks ago about Albert Hughes.”
“Mr Conrad, this is a surprise. Please excuse me gentlemen it seems I have some business to discuss with this young man.”
A.J. and Neville walked over to the end of the bar. A.J. straightened himself to his fullest height and in a slow deliberate considered voice said, “This is a surprise, but not I assume a coincidence. I presume you travelled here this morning with Albert?”
“No I didn’t travel with Albert; in fact I have not seen him for a few weeks. The last time I saw him I gave him your name and telephone number. We did not part on the best of terms.”
“Curiously, I had a meeting with Albert this lunchtime and, as you say, WE also did not part on the best of terms. Unfortunately, he now considers you to be in my employ and probably destroyed any friendship you might have had. If, as you say, this meeting is a coincidence, how did you find yourself here?”
“I was spending the day with a friend of mine.” Neville waved to Marie, who was standing at the end of the room observing the two men at the bar, and gestured that she should join them.
“This is my friend Marie Giroux. She lives in the town, and she suggested that we spend the afternoon at the club.”
“Giroux, are you related to Jean-Paul Giroux” enquired A.J.
“Yes he’s my father,” replied Marie feeling rather intimidated by this foreboding man.
“I know of Jean-Paul Giroux, one of my companies supplies products to his restaurant, I forget the name of it.”
“The Wishing Well,” replied Marie.
“Oh yes,” A.J. responded, but obviously he had never heard of it.
“Well Mr Conrad,” continued A.J. “I suggest it would be a good idea if you tell me all you know about Albert Hughes. Why don’t we, and you Miss Giroux, use my manager’s office where we can have some privacy. Yes, this is my club, or at least one of my companies owns the club, but perhaps not for much longer. The men I was talking to are keen to buy the business.”
“So we really are interrupting you,” Neville interjected, seriously concerned.
“Don’t worry about that, they are keener to buy than I am to sell. The wait will do them good.”
The manager’s office was functional rather than comfortable. It only had three chairs. A.J. sat on the one usually positioned behind the desk and used by the manager; however, he maneuvered it to the side of the desk to look less formal.
“If you don’t mind Mr Conrad I would like you to tell me how you know Albert, and more importantly how you managed to find my name and phone number?”
The atmosphere felt like a police interrogation but Neville realised he needed to tell A.J. the whole story and starting from the very first meeting with Albert in the Station Inn he related the events and meetings that had taken place resulting in the conversation they were now having at the country club. Neville was grateful that A.J. only interrupted on a couple of occasions, just to clarify a point or make sure he understood, as he needed to concentrate to make sure he did not miss any of the important facts. At the conclusion A.J. said,
“Thank you Mr Conrad, I believe you have been very open and honest, and I would also like to thank you for your efforts that resulted in my meeting Albert earlier today. It has been something I have hoped and longed for a very long time and, for reasons I cannot explain, I was not able to bring about this meeting myself and you have done me a tremendous service. I think I owe you my part of the story, I’ll be as honest as I can but unfortunately not as open as I would like or prefer. I’ll try to explain the reason for this.”
Before he continued A.J. took a moment to reflect on what he was about to say and how much he would allow himself to reveal.
“It was a few weeks, after you gave my details to Albert, before he called to make an appointment to see me. At the meeting today, I was able to give him some details about his brother James together with some information about his family and early life. Most of this conflicted with his current beliefs and understanding and obviously he found that upsetting. The meeting broke up before I could explain things further and for that, I must take full responsibility. I misread the situation. I expected that he would have been grateful for the information I was able to provide, but I played it all wrong. I’ve never been known for my tact and this was one occasion I should have shown more feeling and understanding of the situation.”
Both Marie and Neville were taken aback by A.J.’s account of his meeting with Albert. They had expected something more akin to a formal presentation by the chairman at a board meeting, but here was a man effectively baring his soul and apologising for something they weren't exactly sure he had done.
“As a result of what I was able to tell Albert he now has some decisions to make and until he has made those decisions I will not be able to tell you more of our conversation. How this progresses from here has to be his, and only his, choice. So you see I cannot reveal more without Albert’s explicit consent.”
“Thank you for explaining that,” interrupted Neville, I can fully appreciate there might be something you would not wish to make public if Albert would rather it kept private.” Neville’s thoughts went back some weeks when he envisaged two brothers with skeletons in the cupboard.
“Do you have any questions and I’ll try to answer them if I can?” asked A.J.
Marie was the first to speak.
“Do you know where Albert is now?”
“No, not exactly. When he left my office he was heading back towards town, apparently looking for a taxi to take him to the station. Presumably he is intending to return to Eastbridge. It was the intention he stayed overnight in one of my hotels, but it seems he is heading straight back home. I have left instructions at the hotel they should ring me if he appears but I am not very hopeful.”
Marie asked a second question with some concern in her voice.
“You say he was very upset. Is there any possibility he might do, you know, something silly?”
“Well, of the three people here, probably Neville has had the most contact with Albert recently. Maybe that’s a question for him.”
Neville sighed and then stroked his brow. He remembered the sight of Albert entering the Station Inn after the fateful meetings with Ann and her husband. He had certainly taken that situation hard and probably gone without food or sleep for a couple of days. Did that constitute something silly? But he knew Marie was thinking of something rather more serious.
“Of course I do not know what information you gave him so it is difficult to answer that question. However, from my brief time with Albert I would say he is more likely to withdraw within himself on hearing bad news, rather than want to do himself harm. I suspect he will lock away those bad thoughts in a cupboard in his brain and throw away the key. Pretend that nothing has happened and continue with his old life.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you,” said A.J. nodding his head, “unfortunately I would rather he had decided upon a new life.”
A.J. stood up and started to reposition his chair behind the desk.
“There is one more thing I need to tell you and again I blame myself for the situation I have put you in.”
Neville looked puzzled and curious to know what situation warranted a further apology from A.J.
“I told Albert that I had wanted to meet with him for some time, years in fact, and that I had not been able to arrange that meeting myself. He therefore jumped to the conclusion that I had used you, Mr Conrad, to facilitate today’s meeting. He assumed that I had employed you, perhaps even paid you, to arrange the meeting and that all the things you had said about reading articles in old newspapers and the like were just a smokescreen to hide the truth about our business arrangement.”
“But didn’t you explain to him?” protested Neville.
“There are so many things that I wanted to say to him, so many explanations. Unfortunately, he left before I had the opportunity. Therefore, you see he went away thinking we’re in cahoots and not a very high opinion of either of us. It is unlikely that he will want to see you or me again. I wanted to speak to you to explain about Albert’s misconception and called your office at the Eastbridge Gazette. You will find a message there requesting you give me a call. Our chance meeting today has provided the opportunity to explain the position in person.”
The meeting finished in a very somber mood and as they moved towards the door, A.J., perhaps trying to lighten the atmosphere, asked,
“So you are a hot shot salesman with a newspaper Mr Conrad?”
Both Marie and Neville giggled as Neville replied,
“I thought I was. Don’t get me wrong, for some reason I seem to be quite good at it, but now my heart suddenly doesn’t seem to be in it anymore.”
“Suddenly you say?” enquired A.J.
“Well, maybe not suddenly. I suspect it’s been there for some time, just below the surface, but something has happened, maybe it’s this business with Albert, or meeting Marie,” he reached over to hold her hand, “it’s made me realise that my future lies somewhere else; where money isn’t everything.”
“Interesting, interesting,” muttered A.J. more to himself than the two young people stood next to him at the open office door. “I wish we had time to talk longer, but I need to get back to my guests. I hope that whilst we have been talking they have decided to improve their offer for this place. Here Neville take my card, there are some things I would like to discuss with you, if you would like to give me a call sometime. Nice meeting you, and of course Marie.”
They shook hands and A.J. returned to the lounge bar.
Marie and Neville decided to play the game of bar billiards they had promised themselves, but the mood of the day had changed and the contest was short lived. They could not concentrate on the game as their thoughts were on the encounter with A.J. and on each other.
When he arrived home, he called Marie to tell her about the call with A.J. Waterson and the fruitless meeting with Albert and John. Marie was very understanding when he explained how upset he was that Albert had not appreciated his efforts. She reminded him it was John who had been antagonistic, and that Albert was probably appreciative of what he had done. After all, he now had the name and phone number of someone who knew Albert’s brother and probably would be able to help him with some other questions about his past. Neville felt comforted by her reassurance and recalled how comfortable he had been in her company during their time together in Barnshead. It had felt so natural talking together and planning how they would meet with Jane Wheatley and how they laughed and joked afterwards when they recalled her eccentric manner. He asked if they could meet again. Marie explained she would be working at the library on Saturday, but her day off in the week was Wednesday and if he could arrange for some free time they could spend the day together. Neville hesitated for a moment considering his availability for the coming Wednesday. He told Marie he was due some holiday and would be glad to meet her that day.
They arranged to meet outside the library, as this would be easy for Neville to find and close to where he could park his car. Although he had started his journey early, assuming he would arrive in plenty of time, there were a number of hold ups on route so he was about twenty minutes late when he arrived in Barnshead. Neville was concerned if Marie would still be waiting however, he need not have been worried as he found her sitting on the steps of the library.
“Do you fancy a walk,” she asked even before Neville could apologies for being late. “We can go and feed the ducks down by the river,” she suggested holding up a plastic carrier bag containing some dry loaves of bread.
“That would be great,” answered Neville. He had not really planned anything for the day and was grateful Marie had made a suggestion.
A deep gorge, through which flowed the river Barns, separated the two halves of the town. There were a number of bridges crossing the gorge, providing road and rail connections to each half of the town. Marie and Neville walked across one of the road bridges and then at the side of the bridge descended a steep set of mossy steps to the bottom of the gorge and the riverside. Ducks of various shapes, colours and sizes, immediately surrounded them as Marie took out the dry bread from the plastic bag, the sounds of their ducks calls echoing from the stone sides of the gorge.
“I should have brought more bread,” Marie said as she shook out the crumbs from the bottom of the bag, “they made short work of that. We often came here on a Sunday afternoon to feed the ducks, before the cafe opened in the evening.”
“Who’s we?” enquired Neville.
“Oh, me and my parents and sometimes my brother. He’s older than me and sometimes he would say he was too old for that sort of thing and found excuses not to come.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“Yes he’s married with two children. They live in France so we do not see them very often.”
Marie coughed and took up the pose of an old time music hall artist about to present a monologue.
“All along the backwater, through the rushes tall, ducks are a-dabbling, up tails all!”
“Was that Keats or someone?” enquired Neville mischievously.
“No, it was Wind in the Willows, haven't you heard it?”
“If I had I would certainly be making a doctor’s appointment!”
Marie and Neville laughed and giggled like innocent schoolchildren hearing a rude joke at a pantomime.
It was April and the weather forecast suggested it would be a sunny day with clear skies and gentle breezes. The forecaster’s promise had so far been correct, however, there was very little sunshine in the gorge and it was cold and damp. Marie started to shiver.
“We had better climb back up to the road,” Neville suggested noticing Marie’s reaction to the cold.
“No, that’s OK, if we walk farther downstream the gorge opens out and we’ll find ourselves back in the sunlight. There’s a place down there where you can hire a rowing boat. The family would take a boat sometimes and my brother never missed those days.”
After about fifteen minutes walk the sides of the gorge started to recede and become less high, and further walking brought them to an area where little more than a high grass bank bounded the river. Rounding a bend in the river they saw a wooden boathouse and landing.
“There are usually rowing boats tied to that landing,” Marie remarked, “It’s such a long time since I was here, perhaps they do not hire the boats anymore.”
A notice pinned to the side of the boathouse gave details of the boat hire and confirmed the season was May to September.
“That’s a pity,” remarked Marie, “I thought perhaps we could take a boat, it would remind me of the old times.”
They turned around to walk away when Neville noticed someone moving inside the boathouse.
“There’s someone in there,” he said, perhaps I could persuade him to let us have a boat even if it is out of season. “I’ll use my sales charm.”
He went back to the boathouse and tapped on the window. A man dressed in paint covered overalls opened the side door and asked if he could help.
“My girlfriend and I have driven so far today just to see this stretch of the river, it was recommended to us you see, and she is so disappointed to find the boathouse closed, she was really looking forward to being rowed down the river whilst she recited poetry. She’s such a romantic you see and apparently this part of the river was made famous by some poet or other. Is there any chance we could take out one of your boats it would mean the world to her, and me?”
“Well as you can see we are all closed up, I’m in the middle of repairing and painting the boats before the season starts.”
“How much do you normally charge?”
“It’s five pounds for the hour.”
“I’ll double that and give you ten.”
The man in the overalls scratched his head and looked around.
“Well there is that one over there; I finished painting it a couple of weeks ago. It shouldn’t be too difficult to get her out on the water. It will have to be one hour maximum, not a minute over, I need to close up.”
“One hour it is,” agreed Neville feeling rather pleased with himself.
The two men launched the rowing boat and whilst the boatman went for the oars Neville called Marie over to show her the results of his persuasive skills.
“Hello Marie,” the boatman said when he returned with the oars.
“Hello Jim,” replied Marie, “will you be there on Tuesday?”
“Yes I’ll be there, Ashley wouldn’t miss it for the world; she really looks forward to it after school.”
Marie and Neville climbed into the boat with Neville in the middle preparing to row. Jim, the boatman gave the boat a push and tapped his watch as he looked at Neville.
“Who is that?” Neville asked rather sheepishly.
“His name’s Jim, he brings his daughter to my reading club at the library.”
“I’ve just told him the most ridiculous story to try to persuade him to rent us the boat. I feel such a fool.”
“You seem to making a habit of telling stories to get what you want,” Marie giggled, “I hope you didn’t pay him any money, he would probably have let us have it for free.”
The weather forecast had only remained true during the morning and by the time they returned with the rowing boat black clouds had already started to drift across a previously blue sky. With the threat of rain, they decided to walk back towards the town, which proved to be a good decision, as they were able to shelter in a cafe as it started to rain. The walk and the rowing had built up an appetite so they were grateful for the chance of some food as well as the shelter.
Neville asked about Marie’s background as her surname of Giroux suggested she had French connections. She explained that her father had been an Onion Johnny in the 1950’s. He brought onions over the channel from Brittany and sold them in the English towns and villages. His career, dressed in a striped jumper, riding a bicycle draped in strings of onions and wearing a beret, did not last long as he had met Marie’s mother on one of his visits. The marriage soon followed and after working together in a number of hotels and restaurants, they were finally able to open one of their own.
“Tell me about your job in the library?” Neville asked whilst he waited for his soup to be served.
“It’s just a library, what is there to tell,” replied Marie.
“I can imagine it gets quite boring.”
“Oh no it’s not boring, and don’t get me wrong I really enjoy the work I do. It’s a privilege to be able to provide a service to people, to help them, offer advice and of course there is the children’s reading club twice week. Children between the ages of about three and seven come into the library after school and I read them a story. The look on their faces and the excitement in their eyes, well it’s worth more than my salary.”
“Yes I can see that, there are some things that money just can’t buy,” Neville commented in rather a reflective mood.
“What about your job, it must be very exciting working in sales?” Marie enquired.
“I once thought so, but now things seem to have changed. I suppose it’s obvious to say it, but the job is all about money. Just the opposite of yours I guess. I deal with businesses whose only aim in life is to make money, and the ones that are not doing so well I walk in there and try to persuade them that advertising will solve all their problems. If it works they make more money and whether it works or not the newspaper still makes money.”
“That seems a rather cynical view of the world, there must be some businesses that are providing services or at least creating jobs for local people.”
“Yes, but these seem to be secondary aims behind that of making money. A company will only hire people if they are making money or in an effort to make more. They do not employ people simply to give them work, and as soon as the business takes a downturn the first to suffer are the employees who are laid off.”
The soup arrived, which interrupted Neville who felt he was in danger of making a speech.
“You sound like a priest who has lost his faith,” Marie observed.
“That’s just the way I feel. I’m a salesman that no longer believes in making money, how crazy is that.”
The meal continued in silence, both thinking about what Neville had just said.
He had already stopped attending his business studies course. He convinced himself it was the inadequacies of the course material but in reality he knew he no longer believed in the principals being presented to the course participants.
They both felt comfortable with the silence, but as often happened in these cases; they both eventually broke the silence trying to talk at once. Neville insisted that Marie spoke first.
“As the weather no longer looks very settled I was going to suggest that we spend the rest of the day indoors. There is a country club a short drive from here where I am a member. Well it’s actually a family membership. There is a swimming pool, tennis and squash courts, but before you say that sounds far too energetic after we’ve just finished our lunch, they also have a games room where we can play snooker, pool, or bar billiards. We could even play cards if you really insist. How does that sound?”
“That sounds like a great idea. I’m not going to insist we play cards, I assume from the way you said it it’s not your favourite past time.”
“OK, we can set off when we’ve finished our coffee. What were you going to say?”
“I was going to say, wouldn’t it be great if we could find somewhere to play bar billiards. You must have read my mind.”
Neville decided against saying what he was really thinking. He had recently received a phone call from Sarah his ex-girlfriend. Her work in the US was not going well and she had decided to return to England. She had asked Neville if they could meet when she returned. Although there had been no further explanation he felt sure she was planning to ask him if they could get back together. As he looked across the table at Marie, could he truthfully tell Sarah that while she had been away he had met someone else?
A wrought iron gate and a long gravel drive provided the entrance to the Country Club. Neville assumed the building would look like an old stately home after such a grand approach but was surprised to see it was a very modern structure with large areas of glass. Attached to the side of the glass building was an old stone cottage that was all that remained of the original house. There were only few cars parked at the side of the building and Marie explained that the club was very busy at the weekends and in the evenings, but Wednesday afternoon was one of the quieter times and they should not have any difficulty using any of the facilities in the games room.
The entrance was through the cottage and after Marie signed the visitor’s book, she suggested that Neville wait for her in the reading room at the side of the reception while she “powdered her nose”. Neville’s wait seemed longer than he anticipated, but he reminded himself that women could take an inordinate amount of time at the toilet. Marie finally appeared. She practically skipped across the room towards him clapping her hands and looking like a child presented with a special birthday present.
“You will never guess who I’ve just seen?” Marie was so excited her mouth could barely form the words quickly enough. “You’ll never guess, so I’ll tell you. A.J. Waterson, the man Miss Wheatley told us about, the one who knows Albert’s brother.
“How do you know it’s him,” replied Neville, not quite believing what she had just said.
“If you remember I said before that I had seen his picture in the newspaper. I wasn’t certain it was him so I asked the bartender and he confirmed it was Mr Waterson. He’s sat in the lounge bar at a table with some other people. What are you going to do?”
Neville’s first instinct was to do nothing. The last meeting with Albert was still clear in his mind and his emotions were still raw after the reaction of John Turner to the efforts he had made on Albert’s behalf. He reminded himself that John had caused him to be upset; nonetheless, he was also disappointed that Albert had not supported him or seemingly expressed any gratitude for what he had achieved. However, he also felt he should take any opportunity to help Albert and if A.J. Waterson was able to do that, he felt obliged at least to try to speak to him, despite A.J.’s previous assertion that he would not discuss Albert with anyone except Albert himself.
“Mr Waterson is it possible I could speak to you for a moment?” Neville had interrupted the conversation of four men sat around a table in the lounge bar. He felt uncomfortable doing this, particularly as he remembered the voice of A.J. Waterson when he spoke previously on the phone and suspected he was not a man who would appreciate an interruption.
“Yes young man what is it?”
“My name is Conrad, Neville Conrad, I called you a couple of weeks ago about Albert Hughes.”
“Mr Conrad, this is a surprise. Please excuse me gentlemen it seems I have some business to discuss with this young man.”
A.J. and Neville walked over to the end of the bar. A.J. straightened himself to his fullest height and in a slow deliberate considered voice said, “This is a surprise, but not I assume a coincidence. I presume you travelled here this morning with Albert?”
“No I didn’t travel with Albert; in fact I have not seen him for a few weeks. The last time I saw him I gave him your name and telephone number. We did not part on the best of terms.”
“Curiously, I had a meeting with Albert this lunchtime and, as you say, WE also did not part on the best of terms. Unfortunately, he now considers you to be in my employ and probably destroyed any friendship you might have had. If, as you say, this meeting is a coincidence, how did you find yourself here?”
“I was spending the day with a friend of mine.” Neville waved to Marie, who was standing at the end of the room observing the two men at the bar, and gestured that she should join them.
“This is my friend Marie Giroux. She lives in the town, and she suggested that we spend the afternoon at the club.”
“Giroux, are you related to Jean-Paul Giroux” enquired A.J.
“Yes he’s my father,” replied Marie feeling rather intimidated by this foreboding man.
“I know of Jean-Paul Giroux, one of my companies supplies products to his restaurant, I forget the name of it.”
“The Wishing Well,” replied Marie.
“Oh yes,” A.J. responded, but obviously he had never heard of it.
“Well Mr Conrad,” continued A.J. “I suggest it would be a good idea if you tell me all you know about Albert Hughes. Why don’t we, and you Miss Giroux, use my manager’s office where we can have some privacy. Yes, this is my club, or at least one of my companies owns the club, but perhaps not for much longer. The men I was talking to are keen to buy the business.”
“So we really are interrupting you,” Neville interjected, seriously concerned.
“Don’t worry about that, they are keener to buy than I am to sell. The wait will do them good.”
The manager’s office was functional rather than comfortable. It only had three chairs. A.J. sat on the one usually positioned behind the desk and used by the manager; however, he maneuvered it to the side of the desk to look less formal.
“If you don’t mind Mr Conrad I would like you to tell me how you know Albert, and more importantly how you managed to find my name and phone number?”
The atmosphere felt like a police interrogation but Neville realised he needed to tell A.J. the whole story and starting from the very first meeting with Albert in the Station Inn he related the events and meetings that had taken place resulting in the conversation they were now having at the country club. Neville was grateful that A.J. only interrupted on a couple of occasions, just to clarify a point or make sure he understood, as he needed to concentrate to make sure he did not miss any of the important facts. At the conclusion A.J. said,
“Thank you Mr Conrad, I believe you have been very open and honest, and I would also like to thank you for your efforts that resulted in my meeting Albert earlier today. It has been something I have hoped and longed for a very long time and, for reasons I cannot explain, I was not able to bring about this meeting myself and you have done me a tremendous service. I think I owe you my part of the story, I’ll be as honest as I can but unfortunately not as open as I would like or prefer. I’ll try to explain the reason for this.”
Before he continued A.J. took a moment to reflect on what he was about to say and how much he would allow himself to reveal.
“It was a few weeks, after you gave my details to Albert, before he called to make an appointment to see me. At the meeting today, I was able to give him some details about his brother James together with some information about his family and early life. Most of this conflicted with his current beliefs and understanding and obviously he found that upsetting. The meeting broke up before I could explain things further and for that, I must take full responsibility. I misread the situation. I expected that he would have been grateful for the information I was able to provide, but I played it all wrong. I’ve never been known for my tact and this was one occasion I should have shown more feeling and understanding of the situation.”
Both Marie and Neville were taken aback by A.J.’s account of his meeting with Albert. They had expected something more akin to a formal presentation by the chairman at a board meeting, but here was a man effectively baring his soul and apologising for something they weren't exactly sure he had done.
“As a result of what I was able to tell Albert he now has some decisions to make and until he has made those decisions I will not be able to tell you more of our conversation. How this progresses from here has to be his, and only his, choice. So you see I cannot reveal more without Albert’s explicit consent.”
“Thank you for explaining that,” interrupted Neville, I can fully appreciate there might be something you would not wish to make public if Albert would rather it kept private.” Neville’s thoughts went back some weeks when he envisaged two brothers with skeletons in the cupboard.
“Do you have any questions and I’ll try to answer them if I can?” asked A.J.
Marie was the first to speak.
“Do you know where Albert is now?”
“No, not exactly. When he left my office he was heading back towards town, apparently looking for a taxi to take him to the station. Presumably he is intending to return to Eastbridge. It was the intention he stayed overnight in one of my hotels, but it seems he is heading straight back home. I have left instructions at the hotel they should ring me if he appears but I am not very hopeful.”
Marie asked a second question with some concern in her voice.
“You say he was very upset. Is there any possibility he might do, you know, something silly?”
“Well, of the three people here, probably Neville has had the most contact with Albert recently. Maybe that’s a question for him.”
Neville sighed and then stroked his brow. He remembered the sight of Albert entering the Station Inn after the fateful meetings with Ann and her husband. He had certainly taken that situation hard and probably gone without food or sleep for a couple of days. Did that constitute something silly? But he knew Marie was thinking of something rather more serious.
“Of course I do not know what information you gave him so it is difficult to answer that question. However, from my brief time with Albert I would say he is more likely to withdraw within himself on hearing bad news, rather than want to do himself harm. I suspect he will lock away those bad thoughts in a cupboard in his brain and throw away the key. Pretend that nothing has happened and continue with his old life.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you,” said A.J. nodding his head, “unfortunately I would rather he had decided upon a new life.”
A.J. stood up and started to reposition his chair behind the desk.
“There is one more thing I need to tell you and again I blame myself for the situation I have put you in.”
Neville looked puzzled and curious to know what situation warranted a further apology from A.J.
“I told Albert that I had wanted to meet with him for some time, years in fact, and that I had not been able to arrange that meeting myself. He therefore jumped to the conclusion that I had used you, Mr Conrad, to facilitate today’s meeting. He assumed that I had employed you, perhaps even paid you, to arrange the meeting and that all the things you had said about reading articles in old newspapers and the like were just a smokescreen to hide the truth about our business arrangement.”
“But didn’t you explain to him?” protested Neville.
“There are so many things that I wanted to say to him, so many explanations. Unfortunately, he left before I had the opportunity. Therefore, you see he went away thinking we’re in cahoots and not a very high opinion of either of us. It is unlikely that he will want to see you or me again. I wanted to speak to you to explain about Albert’s misconception and called your office at the Eastbridge Gazette. You will find a message there requesting you give me a call. Our chance meeting today has provided the opportunity to explain the position in person.”
The meeting finished in a very somber mood and as they moved towards the door, A.J., perhaps trying to lighten the atmosphere, asked,
“So you are a hot shot salesman with a newspaper Mr Conrad?”
Both Marie and Neville giggled as Neville replied,
“I thought I was. Don’t get me wrong, for some reason I seem to be quite good at it, but now my heart suddenly doesn’t seem to be in it anymore.”
“Suddenly you say?” enquired A.J.
“Well, maybe not suddenly. I suspect it’s been there for some time, just below the surface, but something has happened, maybe it’s this business with Albert, or meeting Marie,” he reached over to hold her hand, “it’s made me realise that my future lies somewhere else; where money isn’t everything.”
“Interesting, interesting,” muttered A.J. more to himself than the two young people stood next to him at the open office door. “I wish we had time to talk longer, but I need to get back to my guests. I hope that whilst we have been talking they have decided to improve their offer for this place. Here Neville take my card, there are some things I would like to discuss with you, if you would like to give me a call sometime. Nice meeting you, and of course Marie.”
They shook hands and A.J. returned to the lounge bar.
Marie and Neville decided to play the game of bar billiards they had promised themselves, but the mood of the day had changed and the contest was short lived. They could not concentrate on the game as their thoughts were on the encounter with A.J. and on each other.