Trentbridge Tales Box Set

by Lee Wood

  “You mean the place on Downing Street? I’ll go over there now and see if he’s available.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  THE OFFER

  “Hello, would it be possible to speak with Mr January, please.”

  “Do you have an appointment?” asks the very smart and stunning-looking blonde from behind her reception desk.

  “No, I don’t, but I’m here to see him about The Albion Hotel. It is rather urgent.”

  “Please take a seat and I’ll see if he is available.”

  I don’t have to wait long. The stunning blonde walks round from behind the large reception desk which has been concealing the lower half of her body. Now I can see her full length and the view certainly doesn’t disappoint.

  “Mr Sheldon, if you’d like to follow me, Mr January says he can spare you a few minutes.”

  I follow her as she wiggles her shapely rear across the reception area. Even Marilyn Monroe would be envious. All too soon we reach a row of glass-fronted offices stretching across the rear area of the ground floor. Suddenly I’m feeling rather hot for some reason!

  Blondie knocks on the door, opens it and announces me. She stands to one side of the doorway as I squeeze past her and catch the fragrance she is wearing.

  “Thank you, Julia,” says Mr January.

  She smiles and closes the door. Much as I’d enjoy watching her walk back to reception I turn my attention to the man behind the desk.

  “Hello, Mr January, it’s extremely good of you to see me at short notice and without an appointment.”

  “I do have a few minutes and Julia said you mentioned The Albion Hotel.”

  “Yes. I understand it’s for sale and I might be interested in buying it.” I notice a grin spread across the estate agent’s face.

  “I see. It’s at a rather advanced stage and the price is rather steep. It’s a prime site, you understand.”

  “Yes. I understand. Could you indulge me and tell me the price?”

  “It would be rather unethical to reveal that to you,” he states, but after a few seconds he then adds, “Let’s just say it’s is somewhere between seventeen and nineteen million pounds. Would that give you an idea?”

  “Yes, it would. That’s most helpful. What if I said I’d offer you twenty million pounds? Oh, and I’m a cash buyer.”

  Robert January’s face remains constant, as if someone telling him they have this amount of cash available is an everyday event.

  “If that’s the case and you are serious I can make a call to my clients. No disrespect, but I would need proof such funds are available.”

  “I can give you the name of the person at Lloyds Bank who deals with my account: Nigel Pym.”

  “Oh yes, I know Nigel. We play golf together. I’ve got a game with him this afternoon, as a matter of fact. Mr Sheldon, I see no reason not to put your offer to my clients, although the other party might come back with a better offer. Would you be prepared to increase yours if that’s the case?”

  “Let’s wait and see what happens, but I am serious. Here’s my card.”

  “This has been a pleasant surprise, Mr Sheldon. I’m sure my clients will let me know quickly and then I’ll be in touch. Can I ask why you want to buy The Albion? Are you planning to redevelop it?”

  “You may have recently read in the newspaper about a homeless man winning the Lotto. That was me. When I was homeless I slept behind the hotel. The night porter looked after me and a few of the staff were extremely kind to me. I hate the thought of all those people losing their jobs so I’m buying the hotel and will continue to run it as it is. With some refurbishment and modernisation I think it could be a good investment and it will secure a lot of jobs that would otherwise be lost.”

  “That’s nice to know. It’s a lovely hotel and it could be even better. The only reason it’s being sold, between you and me, is because of a family squabble, so I hope it turns out to be in your favour.”

  “Thank you, Mr January. It was good to meet and I look forward to hearing from you.”

  I walk out of the office and across the reception area towards the front door. As I do so I notice the receptionist looking my way. “Thank you, Julia. Have a lovely afternoon,” I say with a big smile.

  She looks at me and smiles back, showing me her luscious lips and pure white teeth. It makes me feel warm inside.

  Since I lost my sweetheart I’ve come into contact with a lot of women. I know Miriam would want me to get on with my life but as attractive as many of these women are, I don’t think I’m ready. I’m not sure I ever will be. Miriam, Jack and Abi fill my thoughts every day. Somehow it just wouldn’t feel right, like I was being unfaithful.

  As I walk out, I try to put any thoughts of Julia out of my mind. It’s not easy.

  The following day I receive a phone call from Robert January.

  “Good morning, Mr Sheldon. I’ve spoken with my clients and they in turn have spoken to the other party. If you were to offer twenty-one million pounds, my clients have confirmed such an offer would be acceptable and the other party involved would step aside at that level.

  “Based on what you’ve said I’ll offer the twenty-one million pounds.”

  “I think you’ve got a good deal. In my opinion, with some extra investment to update the hotel, you could see a very handsome return.”

  “To be honest, Mr January, it’s more to do with saving the jobs of those who helped me when I needed it. As long as it doesn’t lose money I’m not really bothered. Otherwise, the money will just sit in a bank somewhere and not do anything worthy. This way the people at The Albion benefit.”

  After arranging the finer details with Mr January, I find the phone number for The Albion Hotel and ask to speak with Jonathan Atkins.

  “Hello, Mr Atkins? It’s James Sheldon. We met yesterday when I came in to see George. I just wanted you to know, and perhaps you can tell the staff, I expect to be the new owner of the hotel in the near future. My plans will ensure that no jobs are lost and in fact I intend to invest and refurbish all parts of the hotel. I trust you will stay on to help and advise me. I don’t intend to interfere with the running of things.”

  “Mr Sheldon. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear this. I, and many of the staff, have been extremely upset by what has been going on. With your permission I’ll organise a staff meeting and tell everyone. Thank you so much. I know you won’t regret the decision. We all want to make a go of it. The staff are a good bunch of people and they work hard. I’m sure they will appreciate what you are offering to do.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  STEVIE

  It’s been a busy morning dealing with all the last-minute paperwork which will enable us to put in a bid to the council for Asbury Park. However, I keep wondering whether Stevie will show up. Little Tony said he would pass my message onto him, and so did George. That was yesterday, so I’m hoping he’ll turn up at my office this morning. If not, I’m going looking for him. I’m sure he will approve of what I’m planning to do and I hope he wants to get involved.

  Lunchtime arrives, but Stevie doesn’t. Maybe George and Little Tony forgot to pass on my message?

  Stevie is my best mate and I want to share my good fortune with him as he’s the reason I’m still alive. If I had to make a choice between the £168 million and spending a single day with Stevie, I’d hand you the cheque without a moment’s thought or hesitation. Finding him is the main thing on my mind.

  I walk down Sidney Street and up towards the Market Square, passing the store where I bought my winning ticket. It just goes to show, one small decision can change your entire life. As I approach the market I can see Little Tony. He’s talking to Young Ned, who has his dog, Buddy, with him. I go over and say hello. Young Ned looks at me in a strange way as people dressed like me don’t normally go up and chat. Most people try to ignore homeless people and don’t look them in the eye.

  “Sorry to bother you,” I say. “Have either of you seen Stevie from Swans
ea?”

  Tony’s first response is, “You couldn’t spare any change, could you?”

  I give them a fiver each. I don’t receive any thanks, but don’t expect any. Young Ned chirps up. “I saw him about an hour back. He was over at Mitcham’s.”

  I thank him for the info and see they are both already leaving. I guess they are heading for the nearest off licence.

  I walk back to the Sidney Street office and grab my bike from the rack at the rear of the building.

  Five minutes later, I reach my destination but I can’t see Stevie.

  I rest my bike against the wall near the two benches where the group I’m looking for are sitting and standing around. Most of them have a can of beer in their hands.

  “Hi, has anyone seen Stevie from Swansea?” I enquire.

  “He’s just gone to the offy,” I’m informed by one of the guys standing near the benches. I don’t recognise him. “He’ll be back sooon,” he slurs.

  I turn around and look across to the opposite side of the road. About a hundred yards down is a small shop run by Mr & Mrs Miah. Years ago it was also a post office but the Royal Mail closed it down. All that’s left of that side of the business is the bright red post box directly outside. Letter collections are once a day at five thirty pm, but there’s nowhere to buy a stamp.

  As I look over, I see Stevie coming out of the shop door. He stops and opens his can of beer and then staggers back in my direction. I can see he’s a little worse for drink as he approaches. He hasn’t seen me since the Lotto win. He looks the same but I look a lot different.

  “Hi, Stevie. It’s me, James.”

  It takes a few seconds to register and he’s staring at me with his face leaning forward. Then he recognises me. “Hey, James,” he cries, rushing forward to give me a hug while keeping his can in his right hand.

  I’m happy to see him and hug him back, even at the risk of his beer spilling all over my nice new clothes. This is my best buddy. “Didn’t you get my messages from Little Tony and George yesterday?”

  “Yeah, I did, but I wasn’t really sure what to do. I read the newspapers – you’re a big shot now. I didn’t think you’d really want me around.”

  “Stevie, that’s so wrong. Without you I wouldn’t be here. The money doesn’t change a thing. You’re my best friend. We’ve been through a lot together and I wouldn’t have made it on my own. Mates stick together. My good fortune means I can repay my debt and help a friend. You’re someone I trust. Someone to help with the big plans I’ve got. I really need you, mate.”

  He seems shocked but even in his current state, I can see the sincerity of my words and the passion in my voice is getting across to him. Even I’m choking up a little. “I’m so sorry to hear about your mum. If there’s anything I can do,” I continue, “I’ve rented a two-bedroom flat on Hills Road while I’m waiting for a house purchase to go through. I want you to move in with me. I need your help and advice. I’m setting up a housing charity.”

  “You don’t need me in your place, cramping your style with the ladies.”

  “There are no ladies in my life since my wife, and there’s not likely to be. This could be a good thing for both of us. Working side-by-side, helping a lot of people to get off the streets and a lot of families to have a decent place to start a family. Think what we can achieve together – what do you say?”

  “Okay, matey. A nice warm bed would be good. I’ll need to collect my things from The Albion. George said he’d keep an eye on them.”

  “Yeah, he’s a great lad is George. So, let’s go grab your stuff and I’ll take you to our flat. Me and You.”

  Using my mobile, I phone for a taxi and while waiting, I take my bike across the road to the front of Barclays Bank and lock it to the metal bike rack. I’ll collect it later today or tomorrow.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  JAMES

  Three minutes later, our taxi arrives. The driver says we’re not allowed cans of beer in the cab so Stevie gives it to one of the group. We both get in and I give him the address, The Meadowcroft Complex on Hills Road. It’s a small complex of only seven apartments close to the railway station. It’s set over four floors. Two flats per level with the penthouse occupying the entire top floor.

  I pay the taxi driver and Stevie and I take the stairs to the first floor to number three. We walk into the spacious lounge. On the far side are floor-to-ceiling windows with beech colour frames and a door leading out to a large patio, large enough for a table with four chairs and a dome topped BBQ in the corner. The lounge area has a long black leather sofa which curves round ninety degrees and can probably seat six people. In front of it is a black coffee table. There’s also a maple wood table complete with four high back leather dining chairs. The TV is on a black glass stand with silver legs adjacent to the windows and between that and the table is a black wall unit containing books and ornaments. The kitchen can best be described as compact with only one partition wall between it and the lounge area.

  At the front of the apartment are two good-sized bedrooms. Mine has a king-size bed. Stevie’s has a double bed. Both rooms have large floor to ceiling sliding door storage for clothes and both have en suite bathrooms with a shower bath.

  The flat, or apartment as the letting agents prefer to call it, came fully furnished right down to the kettle and built-in microwave, with both probably seeing the most action out of everything in the apartment.

  I show Stevie into his room.

  “Okay, here we are. This is your room. I can see you don’t have much in the way of clothes. Maybe we can go into town in the next couple of days and find you a few things.”

  “I don’t want to be any trouble,” he says in a more sober voice than earlier.

  “Stevie, let’s get things straight. I’ve had some good luck and I’d like to share some of it with my best mate in the whole world. If it was the other way round, I have no doubt you’d look after me.”

  “So who’s this best mate in the whole world, you mentioned,” he asks with a grin.

  It’s at that moment I know I’ve got the Stevie I know and love back. His sense of humour has returned.

  “It’s you, you muppet,” I say, leaving him in no doubt.

  We give each other a big man hug. No can of beer to get in the way this time.

  “Tell you what,” he says, “now I’ve sobered up, I’m feeling a bit peckish. Is there any food in the place?”

  “You must be joking. I can’t cook to save my life. There’s a range of restaurants just across the road. Let’s go and see what you fancy.”

  I put on the thick coat I purchased a couple of days ago. The nights are starting to get colder. Stevie puts on a coat from the bag he collected from The Albion. It’s seen better days and I make a note to remember to buy him a new one, but for now, food is our main concern.

  We walk across to Clifton Square with its large selection of restaurants and two supermarkets. Stevie likes the look of Nando’s so we opt for that. It will give me a chance to explain to him my plans for transforming Asbury Park.

  An hour and a quarter later, we are still chatting away. The idea seems like its grabbed Stevie’s imagination as he is full of suggestions. We are so engrossed in conversation that neither of us notices the blue BMW and its two occupants watching our every move as we cross the road and head back to the apartment.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  DAVE

  Dave’s anger is still at boiling point when he receives a phone call from his friend, Town Planning Officer, Peter Hogan.

  “Hi, Dave. I’ve just got word there’s another bid going to be made for the Asbury Park site in the next couple of days.”

  Dave erupts. “YAAAARH! Then put a spanner in its works! Come on, you owe me big time. Get moving and spike it!”

  “Yeah. Okay, Dave.”

  “Who’s behind the bid? Maybe I can have a word with them?”

  “It’s a woman by the name of Susan Heffer. She’s been talking to one or t
wo of the Planning Committee. I’m going to have a quiet word with them and hint that your bid is around thirty million pounds. That should put them off. There’s no way they’re going to bid that high. She’s part of some new charity and they’re looking for someone to do their PR. I’ve spoken to my niece, Alison. She’s going to apply for the position. If she gets it she can keep an eye on them for us.”

  “Susan Heffer? Never heard of her,” says Dave.

  “Yeah. She’s connected with some rich guy called James Sheldon.”

  “Sheldon!” Dave turns purple with rage and flings the phone across the room before rushing downstairs, jumping into his car and driving over to the Premier Inn on Newmarket Road.

  The fact the hotel doesn’t have a car park and he has to find a parking space two streets away does nothing to diminish his mood.

  Arriving at the hotel reception, Dave asks for James Sheldon’s room.

  “I’m sorry, but Mr Sheldon has left the hotel.”

  “I’ll wait till he gets back.”

  The girl looks nervous in front of this loud and furious man. “No, I’m sorry, sir. I mean he has booked out of the hotel. He’s not staying with us anymore.”

  Dave slams his fist down on the reception desk and shouts an expletive before hurtling out of the hotel, leaving the girl trembling. His determination to get his hands on the money and the man responsible for his ‘loss’ is his overriding desire.

  He walks back to his car, unsure of what to do to catch up with the man who stole his ticket. Where does Dave start? He gets into his Mercedes and drives off at speed.