‘My farm isn’t under threat. Only by you, and you sound like you want to lend a hand, so I should be able to sit comfortably, shouldn’t I?’
‘You’re the second-biggest potato grower in this county, but your capacity is a fraction of mine. I employ the latest technology, the best minds and the biggest workforce. I am at the cutting edge of this industry and still it is tough for me to make economic sense out of the business. I struggle. So it must be a whole lot more precarious for you.’
‘It’s not precarious. My business is sound.’
‘But your yields must have been devastated last year – we had the worst conditions since records began. I’ve got the benefit of big commercial partners who rely on our crop, so they’ll take everything I produce, and the contracts I have are enough to paper over the cracks. But you can’t possibly produce enough on a good year, so how on earth do you manage in a bad one? You must have creditors banging down your door.’
Doubler was conflicted. The syrupy tone conveyed concern, sympathy even, but he could detect the challenge, and still Peele’s eyes were devoid of light. There was defiance there, undoubtedly, and Doubler felt compelled to defend his honour. He was, after all, a hugely successful potato grower on the verge of such groundbreaking innovation that he might be propelled into the ranks of the potato greats. He also made money: his pursuit was not academic alone. His commercial enterprise was not conventional, and some of it was potentially not even legal, but he had no debt, no mortgage and endless resource with which to maintain his lifestyle. All of this rattled around in his head, desperate to take shape into boastful words, to prove to the interloper that he was superior in every way.
Doubler met Peele in his dark, cold eyes.
‘I get by,’ he said, swallowing the crowing claims that clamoured to be heard.
‘My offer could be your salvation. No more sleepless nights, no more early starts. You could start to take things a bit easier, relax.’
‘For what? Why would I want to relax? To die, do you mean?’
‘To enjoy your retirement,’ said Peele, exasperated. ‘You will achieve more success through a sale to me than anything you can accomplish as a farmer. That’s the truth. Sell up, slow down and enjoy some time with your children and grandchildren.’
Doubler laughed at this as a notion and wondered what Mrs Millwood would have to say on the matter when he shared the conversation with her later. He could already imagine her praising his courage.
‘My mind’s made up, Mr Peele. I’m very happy to see my days out here, thank you very much. Shall I see you out?’ Doubler, with uncharacteristic assertiveness, removed Peele’s half-full cup of tea and sloshed it into the sink in a symbolic purging.
Peele stood up and shook his head slowly to demonstrate his pronounced disappointment. Together they left the kitchen.
Chapter 34
The golf club had recently undergone a major refurbishment, with the aim of achieving a reassuring balance of modern, clean lines while still appealing to its traditional clientele, who found comfort in the familiarity of a gentlemen’s-club aesthetic. The net effect, a marriage of red velvet and brass-rimmed peepholes, had resulted in an unintentionally burlesque, nautical motif that was quite incongruous with the countryside that surrounded it. Fortunately, the tight-clipped greens and surprisingly sandy hollows that pockmarked the golf course provided a buffer that allowed visitors to acclimatize as they approached the clubhouse, leaving the memory of the flinty downs long behind them.
Julian felt very much at home at the golf club. He wasn’t quite as comfortable as in any one of his favoured haunts in London, but his presence in the country, his ‘retreat from the madness’, as he liked to refer to it to his banking colleagues, was an important accessory. It wasn’t unusual for men of Julian’s type to hover close to the region they grew up in while simultaneously detesting the things that reminded them of their humble beginnings and Julian had fallen into this habit. He was spending an increasing amount of his free time circling the potato farm, like a shark trapped in shallow water.
Julian was an ambitious man whose desires could only be sated by wealth and whose contentment could only be expressed through the pursuit of yet further wealth. The golf club was a haven for Julian. While ambivalent about the benefit of the sport itself, he got a unique pleasure from bumping into old friends, a measure through which he could assess his own progress by noting the inferiority of their coats or postcodes.
And yet, since a seed had been sown for Julian to own his very own piece of the county, he somehow couldn’t shake the idea that without it he wasn’t quite successful enough, and, further, he had come to believe that a second home in the countryside might make him feel less resentful of the many hurts and betrayals he’d been exposed to, not least of all the degrading knowledge that he could never escape the fact his father grew potatoes for a living.
He had met with Peele twice to strike a deal around Mirth Farm. That morning, they had taken their negotiations one step further, out onto the golf course itself.
They had played an even-handed eighteen holes and had each allowed the other to believe they could have played better if they’d chosen to. Now, they were walking slowly back to the clubhouse, punctuating their walk with conversation, hoping to settle the matter before sharing a polite drink in the plush bar.
Julian got quickly to the point. ‘I understand you’ve been up to see the old man. How did you find him?’
Peele’s face lit up, much to Julian’s surprise. ‘It’s an incredible place, Mirth Farm. What a view! And your dad’s an interesting chap. I rather liked him. From what you told me, I’d assumed he might be a bit of a dullard, but there’s much more to him than I expected. He’s bright, isn’t he?’
Julian shrugged non-committally. ‘But was he acting strangely, do you think? A bit unhinged?’
‘Well, he’s certainly something of an oddball, just as you warned. But on reflection I’d describe him as resolute, determined and of sound mind.’
‘You got the right address, did you?’ Julian laughed loudly, but the sound was hollow and barely masked his irritation. He pursued the conversation. ‘But you did make an offer?’
‘I reiterated the offer I’d made in writing, but I’m sorry to report he was determined not to sell at any price. I don’t believe he can be budged from that position either – he just didn’t seem very interested in the money.’
‘And you think that’s the action of a rational man, do you?’
‘No. His refusal to negotiate is the act of a fool – he’ll never get another offer like it.’
‘Exactly. He’s almost incapable of making a clear-headed decision. He doesn’t really know what’s good for him. And he must have seemed a bit odd to you, surely. I mean, the two of you might both be in the same line of work, but you couldn’t be more different, could you? You, one of the best business minds in the county, and him, still running the farm like it was the 1930s.’
‘He is curiously old-fashioned, agreed. And I suppose his mind can’t be as sharp as it was. He’s a proud man, that’s for sure, and I expect it is pride that keeps him going. But his age is showing. He was easily distracted, and during our conversation he became vague, drifting off on a tangent. It almost felt like he was listening to other voices – either in his head or in the room. It was alarming at times. It felt like there were more than the two of us in the conversation.’
Julian was immediately bolstered by the criticism of his father. ‘You’re right he’s not all there. It’s a terrible shame. But he’s been through a lot over the years and I suppose it’s taken its toll.’
‘Your mother?’ Peele ventured, keen to get the official verdict on this source of much local gossip and speculation.
‘Quite,’ said Julian, closing the door on the trail with a definitive slam. ‘But you definitely mentioned an actual sum?’
‘Yes, I put it all in writing. But I am not sure you can do anything more about it. I’ve reasoned
with him. I’ve been generous. Money isn’t going to talk, so we might have to wait it out. Though, like you, I’m not a fan of that. What’s his health like?’
‘Strong as an ox. No, no, waiting isn’t an option.’ Julian shook his head slowly, refusing to believe he couldn’t outwit his father. ‘Tell me, Legion, just how badly do you want the farm?’
‘I need it. You know that. I’ve been very straight with you. Mirth Farm sits right in the middle of my land and I can’t do a blasted thing. I can’t change the access road, and moving traffic around, particularly the heavy vehicles, adds a cost I can’t afford in today’s market. This is a commercial conversation we’re having. I want to extract greater efficiencies and I’m scuppered unless your old man plays ball.’
‘And you’re still prepared to honour my cut as agreed?’
‘Yes, I’m a man of my word. But a cut of nothing is nothing, Julian. You’ll need to make this happen yourself. I’m afraid I’ve tried and failed.’
Julian looked beyond Peele and squinted his eyes almost shut for greater focus. ‘I’ve got another plan, a bolder plan, but it’s going to take considerable sacrifice on my part. Carve me out a couple of acres on top of the bonus we agreed and I’ll make it happen.’
Peele looked appalled. ‘I can’t do that, Julian.’
‘Of course you can. You said it yourself – a cut of nothing is nothing. Look, Legion, I’m your only route to securing this land. If I’m unsuccessful, then you lose absolutely nothing; the status quo remains the same. But if I’m successful, you gain Mirth Farm and get the access routes you want and there are no further obstacles in your way.’
‘Two acres, you say?’
‘Yes. I don’t particularly mind where. Somewhere near the main road to town will be fine. I fancy a project in this neck of the woods, and once Dad’s gone from the farm, I’d like to keep a bit of my home for the sake of my mum’s memory.’ Julian fell silent and looked at the ground, pausing for long enough to allow his words to sink in.
Peele put a hand on Julian’s shoulder. ‘Of course. I understand completely. You’ve got it. Two acres plus your bonus. You know I’m a man of my word, but nevertheless, I’ll get my lawyer to draft a simple agreement to make sure we all know where we stand and then it’s all down to you. As you say, I lose nothing if you’re not successful.’
Julian looked back up at Peele and nodded. Unable to conceal his smile entirely, he allowed a little of it to escape as a lopsided smirk. ‘Very good. Let’s go and seal it with a glass of something, shall we?’
The two men walked companionably towards the bar.
Chapter 35
Doubler had a lot of catching up to do with Mrs Millwood and he launched into their conversation, eager to share his news.
‘Peele had the audacity to turn up in person at Mirth Farm – and in a Range Rover of all things. There was a time that a visit like that might have sent me hurtling back into the chasm, but I feel much more confident now I have your Midge on my team.’
‘I’m so glad. She told me she was helping you out.’ Mrs Millwood’s response was quiet, but Doubler could hear the pride in her voice.
‘Your daughter is an angel. I gather she’s been incredibly busy with this Peele business and I rather think she’s got her teeth into it. She seems to think she’s onto something.’
‘I doubt Mr Peele is Midge’s type. She’ll enjoy taking him on,’ said Mrs Millwood, relishing the idea.
‘And Midge isn’t the only one going into battle. The Colonel has taken on Maddie’s family and social services. They’ve come up with something called a care plan apparently.’
‘Ooh, a care plan sounds useful. We should all have one of those, shouldn’t we?’
‘As far as I can understand, Olive is Maddie’s care plan, which certainly lets everyone else off the hook. I’m not sure how the Colonel negotiated that one. But at least they didn’t put Percy in charge.’
‘The Colonel can be surprising. If I know him, he’ll have offered his own services to keep an eye on them both. He’s not all bad,’ said Mrs Millwood, the affection evident.
Doubler murmured his agreement as he thought of the many long conversations he’d had with Maxwell. ‘You’re right. I owe him a favour. Perhaps I owe him a whole case of favours. I’ll make sure he’s looked after at the next bottling.’
Mrs Millwood laughed happily. ‘My sources tell me you’ll be owing a few people some favours. I hear Olive is now helping Midge with her Peele investigations.’
‘Goodness me. Is she, now?’ Doubler dwelt for a moment on the consequence of kindness. ‘I was always quite proud of not having to depend on anyone, but asking for help isn’t as awful as I’d imagined.’
Doubler went on to bring Mrs Millwood up to speed with his conversation with Camilla.
‘That sounds extremely healthy, Mr Doubler. Her memories are very different to yours – perhaps you’ve been a better father to her than you’ve given yourself credit for.’
‘I don’t know about that, but there is probably still time left to be a better father now.’
‘And how are you going to do that, do you suppose?’
‘I shall try my hardest to ask the right questions.’
‘That sounds very sensible, Mr Doubler. And what about your son? Do you think there is scope for you to be a better father to him, too?’
‘He is on his way here to talk to me. He says he has something on his mind. But I have something on my mind, too, so I shall try to get that off my chest first.’
‘It will do you good, Mr Doubler, to speak your mind. Just remember, our children are not a product of ourselves. Sometimes they’re just the way they are.’
‘They are just a sequence of DNA, Mrs M.’ Doubler pronounced this as if he were reciting it without fully believing the sentiment.
‘You sound very thoughtful this morning, Mr Doubler. Is there anything else on your mind?’ Mrs Millwood probed gently.
Doubler did have something else on his mind. A letter had arrived, addressed to him in bold, loopy handwriting and decorated with a cascade of Indian stamps. The letter was now sitting in the very same dresser drawer that housed much of his unfinished business. It was not a lack of courage that prevented Doubler from opening the envelope, of that he was sure, but, rather, a growing certainty that the contents of the envelope might inform Mrs Millwood’s legacy as well as his own. And Doubler wasn’t yet certain that the confirmation of Mrs Millwood’s legacy would provide the motivation she required to get her out of that place and back among the hale and hearty.
‘No, Mrs M. I’m right as rain. I need to have it out with Julian, but once I’ve done that, I shall be able to think more clearly. Perhaps we can speak later? He’s due any moment.’
‘Off you go, and don’t forget – I may be incapacitated, but I’m with you every step of the way.’ Mrs Millwood’s voice was quieter than usual and there was a solemnity there that Doubler hadn’t noticed before.
‘Thank you, Mrs M. I’m counting on that,’ he said, resolving to be strong enough for the two of them.
Julian arrived shortly after Doubler had hung up the phone and, unusually for Doubler, he wasted absolutely no time making his guest comfortable or offering refreshments. He led the way to the sitting room, avoiding the kitchen altogether, and his son followed, stooping under the door lintel, unaware yet that this conversation was not going to be the one he’d expected to have.
‘Julian, sit down. Let’s talk about money.’
Julian smiled broadly and produced an exaggerated exhalation, delighted that his father had pre-empted what might have been a difficult conversation. ‘Excellent, Dad. About time we had this chat. What’s he offered?’ His eyes darted around the room as if he could assess the sum from the lay of the furniture.
‘Who? Peele? No, Julian, I’m not talking about selling the farm. I’m talking about money problems.’ Doubler batted Julian away impatiently as he sat down in his chair. He pulled the telephone an inch or
two closer to him, as if to settle Mrs Millwood comfortably too.
Julian looked at his father and ran a hand through his hair, the incredulity etched on his face. ‘Dad. You don’t have money problems. You’re sitting on an absolute pile here. A goldmine. Sell up and you’ll never have to worry again. This is exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you.’ Julian smiled in an attempt to offer reassurance and Doubler learnt in that moment what a snake might look like if it chose to smile just before it struck you.
‘I’m not talking about my money problems; I’m talking about yours.’ Doubler wriggled more comfortably into his chair and glanced pointedly at the other seat beside the empty fireplace, hoping Julian might follow suit. The fact that his son was so much taller than his father put Doubler at a considerable disadvantage when it came to this quite carefully planned confrontation, and the fact that his son had chosen to accentuate this height difference by remaining on his feet meant that Doubler felt entirely wrong-footed. He was pleased, therefore, to see from the colour rising in Julian’s cheeks that he had rattled him.
‘Me? You’re joking! I don’t have money problems. Life’s pretty good. My bonus last year was a record for the department. I’m certainly not the one with money problems.’ Julian’s face sneered quite naturally, so now, as he tried to arrange it into a look that conveyed an extra measure of contempt, it twisted grotesquely.
‘Then why on earth,’ said Doubler, with a deliberate pause for effect, ‘would you use deceit to try to extract my car from me?’
‘Deceit? To extract your car?’ For a moment Julian was genuinely puzzled, but quickly his eyes narrowed as he realized what his father was alluding to. ‘Careful, Dad – you sound unhinged. I was just trying to help. Look, I don’t like the idea of you being stuck out here on your own. I thought I’d try to make life a little easier for you. Can’t a son help his dad these days without being accused of deceit?’
Mr Doubler Begins Again Page 31
