‘And what do you think might happen in such an event?’
He pursed his professional lips, a move which seemed to take considerably longer than the pursing of mere lay lips like Vanda’s. ‘I really couldn’t say. It would have the makings of a most interesting exploration by industrial lawyers. There are only two partners, and although you are much the junior one, I feel that in the event of either partner’s death, the other one would have a strong case for taking over the direction of the business, probably in conjunction with the heirs of the deceased.’
‘That is an interesting thought.’
James Dolby gave her his most genuine smile of the morning. ‘It is indeed. And in view of that, Ms North, I would urge you most strongly not to repeat publicly your sentiments about putting a gun to the gentleman’s head.’
SEVEN
Eleanor Hook put the official-looking envelope beside the box of cereal and waited patiently for her husband’s reaction. Bert slit the envelope with his knife, studied the single sheet of contents with an impassive face, then cast it aside. He said decisively, ‘Well, I shan’t be attending that.’
Eleanor picked up the discarded sheet and quickly digested its contents. She said with ominous, wifely certainty, ‘I think you should.’
‘It’s not my kind of thing. You know I don’t like being on show.’
‘This is one occasion when you should be. It’s a recognition of your achievement. A chance for your family to share in your triumph.’
‘You’re getting this out of proportion. It’s an Open University BA. That’s not a triumph. It’s a decent achievement, alongside hundreds of other people.’
‘It is a triumph,’ said Eleanor firmly. ‘Considering how you’ve had to study, fitting it in around a variable load of CID work, never being certain when you’d have time to work at this and when you wouldn’t, it’s a terrific achievement. I know that. The boys know that, for all their joking. We want to see the formal recognition of what you’ve achieved.’
As if responding to a cue, Jack and Luke made a robust entry at this point, sounding as usual like a regiment descending the stairs. ‘It’s all right for you to read that!’ said Eleanor, as her elder son seized on the letter, which had drifted to the floor.
‘Open University Graduation Ceremony, May the thirteenth,’ Jack announced to his brother.
‘Oh, great, Dad!’ said Luke enthusiastically. ‘Will we be able to photograph you wearing one of those daft hats?’
‘If you’re thinking of that comedian receiving an honorary doctorate at the University of Northampton,’ said his father testily, ‘I’m afraid I don’t qualify for anything so lofty or so freakish. I’m merely a Bachelor of Arts, not a doctor.’
‘A distinction which you have thoroughly earned, rather than one awarded for no academic achievement whatsoever,’ said Eleanor stoutly.
‘No daft hat?’ said Luke in undisguised disappointment.
‘No daft hat,’ said his father firmly.
‘Most of the graduates I’ve seen in pictures seem to have mortar boards,’ said Jack thoughtfully. ‘I think a mortar board on you might look quite daft enough for us.’
‘Not as good as bright green with a big tassel, though.’ Luke refused to be consoled. ‘Any chance of you going on to become a doctor, do you think, Dad?’
‘None whatsoever. The next graduates in this family will be you and Jack.’
‘Don’t rely on it, Dad. I fancy being an interesting drop-out,’ said Jack provocatively. ‘Stripped to the waist with a guitar, I should think. Driven to new heights of performance by banned substances.’ He eyed his mother surreptitiously, but for once she refused to be drawn by his lurid provocation.
‘If you want any breakfast, you’d better cease these ridiculous imaginings and get on with real life,’ Eleanor said firmly.
‘The local press will be interested in this,’ said young Luke with relish. ‘Sort of “Dull copper reveals hidden depths of scholarship” line.’
Jack’s eyes lit up. ‘You’re right, Luke. “Sherlock lurks within the village bobby” stuff. I’m sure you and I will get together some interesting copy for the media if we give our minds to it tonight. You got any plans to retire to the south coast and keep bees, Dad?’
‘None whatsoever. I’m going in to the station now to continue the task of keeping crime off our streets. Of making them safe for cheeky young scoundrels like you two!’
Jack nodded his fifteen-year-old approval. ‘Good on yer, Dad! You’d better think what you’re going to say to local radio, though. They’re sure to want an interview, after Luke and I have finished as your PR men. I should think television and the national press will be on to it pretty quickly, after we’ve made our first releases.’
‘If I hear that you’ve said a word to anyone, there’ll be trouble!’ said Bert, with as much menace as he could muster.
Eleanor followed him out to his car. ‘You’ve got to go to the graduation ceremony,’ she said firmly. ‘I know they like ribbing you, but those two lads will be as proud as Punch to see you get your degree.’
Gerry Davies was happy to see the Abbey Vineyards shop crowded with people on a Saturday morning. Weekends were usually their busiest time, as you would expect, but it was good to see that there was as yet little sign that the recession was affecting either the number of visitors or their rate of spending.
There had been almost from the start a pleasing mutual support between the shop and the restaurant, which now carried two AA Rosettes. People who bought wines and other offerings in the shop became aware of the restaurant, with its pleasantly spacious rooms and its splendid outlook over the slopes of vines and the wilder and more dramatic outlines of the Malvern Hills in the distance. It was difficult to imagine dining anywhere in the area with a better view, a point emphasized by the colour postcards they displayed and sold in the shop.
Equally, there was now substantial evidence that those who enjoyed their meal and its accompanying wines in the restaurant often returned to the shop in the weeks which followed, keen to buy the wines they had sampled and enjoyed with their excellent food. Gerry Davies had no culinary skills himself, but that made him only more appreciative of those of Jason Knight. They were two very different men, but they had worked well together from the outset. And, to Gerry’s secret surprise, they not only respected each other but enjoyed each other’s company.
Gerry’s father had been a Welsh miner in the Rhondda Valley in the years before Thatcher’s government had decided that Britain no longer needed its pits. Gerry had enjoyed the mixed benefits of a comprehensive education, then left school at sixteen to work in a steel works which had closed down when he was thirty-two. The closure had proved a blessing in disguise. After six weeks of the misery of unemployment and supporting a wife and two children on social security, he had obtained employment in a supermarket.
Initially he earned little more than he had been paid ‘on the social’. But Gerry had not only recovered his self-respect but revealed a talent for the retail trade hitherto unsuspected by himself as well as the world at large. Tesco had recognized this swiftly, and he had enjoyed three promotions before becoming manager of one of its new smaller outlets on a garage site. When thirteen years ago Martin Beaumont had been looking for a manager to expand the sales and the range of activities at the shop at Abbey Vineyards, he had shrewdly recognized in Davies a man of forty-four who had both achievement and further potential.
The entrepreneur who was the driving force behind Abbey Vineyards and the man who felt he still had something to prove had struck up an immediate, instinctive and productive relationship. Each was anxious to prove to a sceptical world that English wine had a bright and exciting future. In their different ways, both men were proving themselves. Both were therefore prepared not to count the hours they spent in pursuit of the development of the company into a more profitable enterprise.