And thus Gerald Haskins made his second visit to Multavia, this time accompanied by a site manager, three draftsmen and eleven engineers. Gerald had a private audience with the King and assured him the job would be completed on time and for the price specified. He also told the King how much he was enjoying his second visit to Multavia. However, when he returned to England he assured his wife that there was still little in Multavia that could be described as entertainment before or after the hour of seven.
A few years later and after some considerable haggling over the increase in the cost of materials, Teske ended up with one of the finest sewerage systems in Central Europe. The King was delighted — although he continued to grumble about how Haskins & Co. had overrun the original contract price. The words ‘contingency payment’ had to be explained to the monarch several times, who realized that the extra two hundred and forty thousand pounds would have to be in turn explained to the East and ‘borrowed’ from the West. After many veiled threats and ‘without prejudice’ solicitors’ letters, Haskins & Co. received the final payment but not until the King had been given a further grant from the British government, a payment which involved the Midland Bank, Sloane Street, London, transferring a sum of money to the Midland Bank, High Street, Hull, without Multavia ever getting their hands on it. This was, after all, Gerald explained to his wife, how most overseas aid was distributed.
Thus the story of Gerald Haskins and the drainage problems of Teske might have ended, had not the British Foreign Secretary decided to pay a visit to the kingdom of Multavia.
The original purpose of the Foreign Secretary’s European trip was to take in Warsaw and Prague, in order to see how glasnost and perestroika were working in those countries. But when the Foreign Office discovered how much aid had been allocated to Multavia and they also explained to their minister its role as a buffer state, the Foreign Secretary decided to accept King Alfons’ longstanding invitation to visit the tiny kingdom. Such excursions to smaller countries by British Foreign Secretaries usually take place in airport lounges, a habit the British picked up from Henry Kissinger, and later Comrade Gorbachev; but not on this occasion. It was felt Multavia warranted a full day.
As the hotels had improved only slightly since the days of Gerald’s honeymoon, the Foreign Secretary was invited to lodge at the palace. He was asked by the King to undertake only two official engagements during his brief stay: the opening of the capital’s new sewerage system, followed by a formal banquet.
Once the Foreign Secretary had agreed to these requests the King invited Gerald and his wife to be present at the opening ceremony — at their own expense. When the day of the opening came the Foreign Secretary delivered the appropriate speech for the occasion. He first praised Gerald Hawkins on a remarkable piece of work in the great tradition of British engineering, then commended Multavia for her shrewd common sense in awarding the contract to a British company in the first place. The Foreign Secretary omitted to mention the fact that the British government had ended up underwriting the entire project. Gerald, however, was touched by the minister’s words and said as much to the Foreign Secretary after the latter had pulled the lever that opened the first sluice gate.
That evening in the palace there was a banquet for over three hundred guests, including the ambassadorial corps and several leading British businessmen. There followed the usual interminable speeches about ‘historic links,’ Multavia’s role in Anglo-Soviet affairs and the ‘special relationship’ with Britain’s own royal family.
The highlight of the evening, however, came after the speeches when the King made two investitures. The first was the award of the Order of the Peacock (Second Class) to the Foreign Secretary. ‘The highest award a commoner can receive,’ the King explained to the assembled audience, ‘as the Order of the Peacock (First Class) is reserved only for royalty and heads of state.’
The King then announced a second investiture. The Order of the Peacock (Third Class) was to be awarded to Gerald Haskins, CBE, for his work on the drainage system of Teske. Gerald was surprised and delighted as he was conducted from his place on the top table to join the King, who leaned forward to put a large gold chain encrusted with gems of various colors and sizes over his visitor’s head. Gerald took two respectful paces backward and bowed low, as the Foreign Secretary looked up from his seat and smiled encouragingly at him.
Gerald was the last foreign guest to leave the banquet that night. Angela, who had left on her own over two hours before, had already fallen asleep by the time Gerald returned to their hotel room. He placed the chain on the bed, undressed, put on his pajamas, checked his wife was still asleep and then placed the chain back over his head to rest on his shoulders.
Gerald stood and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror for several minutes. He could not wait to return home.
The moment Gerald got back to Hull he dictated a letter to the Foreign Office. He requested permission to be allowed to wear his new award on those occasions when it stipulated on the bottom right-hand corner of invitation cards that decorations and medals should be worn. The Foreign Office duly referred the matter to the Palace where the Queen, a distant cousin of King Alfons IV, agreed to the request.
The next official occasion at which Gerald was given the opportunity to sport the Order of the Peacock was the Mayor-making ceremony held in the chamber of Hull’s City Hall, which was to be preceded by dinner at the Guildhall.
Gerald returned especially from Lagos for the occasion and even before changing into his dinner jacket couldn’t resist a glance at the Order of the Peacock (Third Class). He opened the box that held his prize possession and stared down in disbelief: the gold had become tarnished and one of the stones looked as if it were coming loose. Mrs. Haskins stopped dressing in order to steal a glance at the order. ‘It’s not gold,’ she declared with a simplicity that would have stopped the IMF in their tracks.
Gerald offered no comment and quickly fixed the loose stone back in place with araldite but he had to admit to himself that the craftsmanship didn’t bear careful scrutiny. Neither of them mentioned the subject again on their journey to Hull’s City Hall.
Some of the guests during the Mayor’s dinner that night at the Guildhall inquired after the lineage of the Order of the Peacock (Third Class), and although it gave Gerald some considerable satisfaction to explain how he had come by the distinction and indeed the Queen’s permission to wear it on official occasions, he felt one or two of his colleagues had been less than awed by the tarnished peacock. Gerald also considered it was somewhat unfortunate that they had ended up on the same table as Walter Ramsbottom, now the Deputy Mayor.
‘I suppose it would be hard to put a true value on your peacock,’ said Walter, staring disdainfully at the chain.
‘It certainly would,’ said Gerald firmly.
‘I didn’t mean a monetary value,’ said the jeweler with a smirk. ‘That would be only too easy to ascertain. I meant a sentimental value, of course.’
‘Of course,’ said Gerald. ‘And are you expecting to be the Mayor next year?’ he asked, trying to change the subject.
‘It is the tradition,’ said Walter, ‘that the Deputy succeeds the Mayor if he doesn’t do a second year. And be assured, Gerald, that I shall see to it that you are placed on the top table for that occasion.’ Walter paused. ‘The Mayor’s chain, you know, is fourteen-carat gold.’
Gerald left the banquet early that evening determined to do something about the Order of the Peacock before it was Walter’s turn to be Mayor.