The room instantly fell into a stunned silence. For Rob, life slowed to something like one third of its normal speed, like the opening scene in Saving Private Ryan or when you suddenly realise that the idiot in the blue Nissan Micra really has pulled out in front of you and you are going to crash into him. He could see Lee England talking, but all he could hear was a series of incoherent groans. And he couldn’t move a muscle.
Jane, meanwhile, was simply stunned. Speechless for the first time in years, she was actively trying to work out not what to say, but how to say it. She was desperate to register some kind of vocal response to what quite possibly was the most momentous thing ever to have happened to her but her brain simply wouldn’t react.
‘Bollocks,’ said Mick.
England gave them a moment or two for it to sink in. Mick was the first to speak.
‘How?’
‘Your brother was actually quite a successful businessman. He established a number of companies during his life but at the time of his death, had sold all but one; a magazine distribution company. It’s actually based about a mile or so down the road. You can’t miss it. It’s- well that’s not important for now. What is important is that it forms a part of the estate.’
Rob nervously held up a finger. As if he were a naughty schoolboy who wanted to go to the toilet. ‘Did you say six and a quarter million? Pounds?’
‘Yes Rob,’ said England, ‘but it’s not all in cash. There’s the distribution company and the house-’
‘House? What house?’ choked Jane who suddenly realised that her throat was totally dry.
England reached into his folder and handed Jane a photograph. ‘We took the liberty of having these taken. It’s a six-bedroomed home with over four acres of land, so is quite a substantial property.’
Jane looked at the picture. This simply couldn’t be happening.
‘And this is mine?’
Her tone caused England to raise an eyebrow in admonishment. He wasn’t warming to this woman at all.
‘Technically it’s Rob’s but yes, that’s one of the assets he stands to inherit. The property your uncle owned in France, which is where he spent most of his time, has been donated to a local children’s charity. He was quite a popular chap actually. They-’ Finally noticing that nobody was listening to him, the solicitor stopped talking, settled back in his chair and waited. And waited.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Jane eventually. ‘Stands to inherit?’
Lee England leaned forward and grinned. Not a nice grin, but a smug grin. Bingo! Red button time, bombshell number two.
‘Well there is a condition of inheritance. A task, if you like.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said a frowning Jane. ‘Task? What does that mean? Is this house mine, I mean his, or not?’
‘Again, technically it’s not. Not yet anyway. Oh, you can live in it. You can move in now, I have the keys here. But ownership of the house and everything else will only pass to Rob if he successfully completes a task. One laid down by Arthur Cooper.’
Jane turned and looked at Rob who was still staring into space with a crazed look on his face.
‘Are you listening to this?’ she said as she thumped him on the arm.
Rob turned to her and broke into a broad grin.
‘Listening to what?’ he laughed. ‘I’m fucking loaded. I don’t have to listen to anything.’
‘Yes you do,’ said England calmly. ‘You have to listen very carefully.’
Sensing that something odd was going on, Mick shuffled himself back into his chair and took out his cigarette tin.
‘Go on Mr. England,’ he said as he nervously fiddled with the contents. ‘We’re all ears.’
‘Well,’ began England after taking a sip of coffee and placing one eye firmly on Mick’s tobacco just in case he made any move to light up. ‘As I told Robert earlier, Arthur and his wife were a childless couple so when she died in 1983, he was left without a direct heir. So, he dedicated his time toward building up various businesses, which he did with great success. About 10 years ago, he was approached by a local football club and asked if he could help them overcome some financial difficulties. To cut a long story short, he ended up buying the club to save it from bankruptcy. However, rather than play an active role in the day-to-day running, he installed a puppet chairman to keep the place ticking over until a proper buyer could be found. Unfortunately, no buyer had ever come forward, so Arthur found himself stuck with it.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Jane. ‘But if he was such a successful businessman, why-’
‘If I may continue,’ responded England sharply. ‘Mr. Cooper was a long-time fan of the club concerned and about two or three years ago he decided to invest a substantial amount of capital, which he raised by selling off two of his remaining three companies.’
As England talked, Rob found himself paying closer and closer attention. He didn’t like the way this was going. - and a quick glance at his father showed that he wasn’t alone.
‘Could I ask-’ he said nervously. ‘Are we talking about…City?’
Red button time. Bombshell number three.
‘Yes Rob. We are talking about City. Your uncle was the majority shareholder.’
Rob swallowed, then took a deep breath, then swallowed again.
‘So let me get this straight. Does that mean that I now actually own City?’
‘Yes. Well 90% of it anyway.’
‘The ground, the pitch, players, everything?’
‘As part of the estate?’ asked Jane, who was becoming increasingly confused as to how, and why, a football club that had become such a source of anger and hatred in her house over the years was being discussed at all. Never mind less than two minutes after she’d been told she was now worth six and a quarter million pounds. Approximately.
‘Yes and no.’
‘Whoa, whoa! Hold on a minute!’ said Mick somewhat anxiously. ‘My son owns-’
‘Yes, yes. He owns it. He owns bloody City,’ barked Jane. ‘But Mr. England, what does that mean? Yes and no. If it’s an asset then surely-’
England laughed and reached for his imaginary red button. But before he could press it, both Rob and Mick burst into hysterical laughter before jumping up and hugging each other. The solicitor watched them with a bemused smile on his face. This was working out even better than he could have hoped.
‘Fuck me rigid! You do realise what this means?’ giggled Rob almost manically. ‘It means that I can wipe City off the map. Christ almighty, this is every football fan’s dream.’
‘Just think what the scummers will say,’ added Mick excitedly. ‘Pissed off or what?’
‘Give me a week, I’ll have the players down the job shop and the shit-hole of a ground sold for redevelopment,’ said Rob as he rubbed his hands together with unbridled glee. His words firing out like bullets from a machine gun. ‘Not that it’s worth much, the whole area’s a bloody toilet. Christ, I could actually give it away. Oh my God! Can you imagine the pleasure that watching that dump get levelled is going to give? I could sell tickets. I’d make a bloody fortune! Shit, I’ve got a fortune!’ He burst out laughing again.
‘Before you get too excited,’ said Lee England calmly as he picked up the white envelope he’d placed so carefully on his desk just minutes before and held it out, ‘you really should read this. It might change things somewhat.’
Having picked up on the tone of his voice, a slightly puzzled Jane took the envelope from him and pulled out the two white A4 sheets it contained. As she began to read, the solicitor leaned back in his chair and smiled to himself. The fourth, final and biggest bombshell of all was on its way.
After a minute or two, Jane looked up at England. Her brow deeply furrowed as she struggled to understand what the letter was telling her. The solicitor merely smiled knowingly back and so she lowered her gaze and read it again. When she had finished, she looked at Rob, then at Mick and then back to Rob. Then she smiled, handing the letter back to England a
s she did so.
‘Please read that out loud. I really want to see their faces when they hear that.’
‘What?’ asked a suddenly nervous Rob. ‘What’s going on?’
England gestured at Rob and Mick to sit down. Once they had done so, he began reading.
Dearest Robert,
Well, I guess that this has all come as a bit of a shock to you. It’s not every day a person discovers a new relation, particularly one who’s just died!
I must tell you that it has long been a source of some regret that we never got to meet but thanks to your father’s stubborn nature, there was nothing I could really do about that.
You should know, however, that I have kept abreast of what has gone on in your life over the years and have even read a few editions of Wings of a Sparrow. As a City fan, I can’t say I always found it particularly amusing – or accurate - but all power to you for your efforts.
It was actually the fanzine which gave me the idea for the task I am about to set you. If for no other reason than it should give you plenty to write about in the future!
By now, Lee will have given you details of the house, the business and the various bits and pieces that make up my estate and I hope and trust that they have come as a pleasant and welcome surprise.
However, while I always enjoyed the trappings of success, my real passion was always City, both as a fan and, more recently, as an owner. Well now, as my sole heir, that mantle has passed on to you. And while you might be jumping up and down at the idea of closing the club down and selling on the ground, the reality is that it isn’t going to happen. For here is the deal.
For the next twelve months, my entire estate is going to be put into a trust that Lee will administer. The business will continue to be run by the current management team while you and your family are free to live in the house and use the cars. You will also receive a generous monthly allowance. What happens at the end of those twelve months is entirely down to you. Because if you want to keep all of this, you’re going to have to earn it - and here’s how.
For the coming season, you will take the position of chairman at my beloved City and take charge of the day-to-day running of the club. If at the end of the season the team have improved on the points total of the previous season and the business side of things is in a better state than it is when you take control, then you will inherit my estate in its entirety to do with what you will. If they are not, you will forfeit everything. Control of City will be handed over to the fans and the estate will continue as a trust, with all proceeds going towards the club. Those same conditions will apply if you refuse this task or if at any time you decide to walk away.
So there you have it. It’s a simple choice, but one which is going to affect the rest of your life in one way or another.
Best wishes,
Your Uncle Arthur.
Rob was once again in Saving Private Ryan mode. The dream had become a nightmare.
City had been in freefall for the past few years and had almost fallen out of the league the previous season. Yet such was the rivalry between the two clubs that their weekly failures continued to be greeted with as much glee at Vicarage Lane as they ever had been. Furthermore, it was well known that financially, the team were in deep shit.
‘Read the PS,’ said Jane, a little too cheerfully even for Lee England’s liking. ‘Go on, read it!’
‘PS? You mean there’s more?’ asked a stunned Mick.
The solicitor nodded and returned his gaze to the letter.
PS: One last thing. In your capacity as chairman, you must attend every single City game, home and away. No exceptions.
England looked up and smiled. First at Jane, then at Mick and finally at Rob. Their expressions ranged from amusement (Jane) to horror (Mick) to bewilderment (Rob). Ka-boom!
‘It’s actually quite funny when you think about it,’ said Jane. Desperately trying to disguise the humour she felt in the situation and wishing that she would have met Arthur. They would have got on, she was certain.
Rob turned to face his wife, his face the very picture of dismay.
‘Well it is.’
‘You don’t get it do you? This is every football fan’s worst nightmare.’
‘Don’t be so dramatic. He’s given you over 6 million pounds! Anyway, it’s only a bloody game,’ she added, just for effect.
‘A game?’ Rob spluttered. ‘A fucking game?’ He turned to face his father. ‘This is your bloody fault. I’m living your bloody karma!’
Before Mick could respond, the solicitor interrupted.
‘Obviously you have things to discuss,’ he said. But I am going to need a decision within a few days.’
‘Decide?’ asked Jane. ‘What’s to decide? If you think for one minute I’m going to let him give up the chance of six and a quarter million pounds, you are deluding yourself. Of course he’ll do it.’
‘Son, you can’t,’ said Mick desperately. ‘I mean, it goes against everything I’ve brought you up to believe in.’
A stunned and dazed Rob looked at his wife and father as the enormity of the position Arthur had placed him in slowly began to hit home. In a perverse way, he had always enjoyed being a focal point for the scummers’ hatred. Primarily because it rarely, if ever, impacted on him directly. What abuse he did get came courtesy of his post office box or via the Internet. Now he would actually have to go there, walk into the lion’s den and not only confront them face-to-face but then actually begin to make their lives better! He felt emotionally drained and physically sick at the very idea of it. What kind of bloke must his uncle have been to come up with something so viciously cruel?
‘Just think of what the lads will say,’ said Mick. ‘The shame…’
‘The lads?’ said Jane. ‘What the bloody hell have they got to do with anything? Don’t you understand what this means? It’s the chance of a lifetime.’
England relaxed into his chair and smiled to himself as the squabbling continued. Not being a football fan, he didn’t really understand how people could become so obsessed with something that from the outside seemed so petty. But Arthur had told him on numerous occasions over the years that football rivalries did strange things to people and local rivalries were the worst of the lot. He had even warned him that Rob and his family might react in this way and while the solicitor had originally discounted the idea, clearly the old man had known his stuff, which was why England was now convinced that what was really at the heart of this whole exercise was simple revenge - six and a quarter million pounds worth of revenge. And ridiculous though he thought the whole thing was, he had to admit to a grudging respect for Rob Cooper for not simply rolling over and grabbing the money. Not that he had any doubt that he would eventually. I mean, who wouldn’t? Especially with that dragon of a wife calling the shots.
Still, none of that was his concern at the moment. He’d done his bit and was pleased with how it had gone. Four bombshells, four direct hits.
Whatever was going to happen next was entirely out of his hands.
Chapter Seven
Jane took a deep breath and, with barely a glance at Rob, pulled open the car door and stepped out. This was it, her future.
At first, as she stood motionless beside the car, she couldn’t take it all in. The photographs the solicitor had shown them didn’t even come close to doing justice to the building in front of her.
Then her brain began to catch up, registering the bright white pillars on either side of the beautiful dark wood door, the eight double windows spaced perfectly symmetrically across the front of the almost sparkling tan plastered walls and the grass so immaculate and well manicured that it seemed to Jane to be giving off a green glow. Even the crunching of the gravel underfoot seemed to be amplified as if screaming at her: This is yours, all yours.
Behind her, still in the car, Rob and Mick were also staring at the front of the house, each lost in his own specific and conflicting thoughts.
‘Why the bloody hell did he nee
d a place this big? Flash twat,’ muttered Mick.
Rob didn’t respond, preferring instead to continue pondering the horrific predicament fate had seen fit to place him in.
‘Shit,’ he muttered as he watched his wife gesturing at them to follow her. ‘Here we bloody go.’
‘I’m not going in there.’
‘Don’t be so bloody stupid,’ said Rob turning round to face his father.
‘I’m not. I ain’t setting foot in that place, not ever. It smells of scummer.’
Rob started to answer but stopped short and simply sighed, climbed out and followed his wife to the front door, which she was already busily unlocking. While he had some sympathy with his dad’s stance, he knew full well he didn’t have the same luxury of refusal.
By the time he arrived at the front step, Jane had vanished inside, leaving the door wide open. Rob paused briefly and then with a sigh followed her, his fear that the entire place would be a shrine to City being dispelled immediately by the immaculately decorated hallway he found himself standing in. It simply oozed wealth and, jaundiced though he was, Rob found himself becoming not a little excited at the prospect of living in such an obviously quality place. However, the baggage which went with it soon dragged him back to reality.
‘Where the bloody hell are you?’ he called.
‘I’m in the kitchen! Come and see. It’s amazing.’ came the excited response.
With a resigned sniff Rob strode toward the voice, although the fact that it sounded an awfully long way away did not go unnoticed.
By the time he arrived Jane was busily pulling open the cupboards in what was clearly an almost new and obviously expensive kitchen, the pristine white doors offset by splashes of chrome and black marble worktops.
‘Look at this,’ she said almost orgasmically. ‘This is my dream kitchen. It’s got everything. Where’s your dad?’
‘Outside. He won’t come in because it’s a scummer’s house.’
Jane shook her head without comment and returned to her exploration. He watched her for a second and wandered across to the large window. At first what he saw failed to register and then it hit him like a sledgehammer.
Wings of a Sparrow Page 4
