Garstein's Legacy

  Chapter 5. Transmogrification

  Despite the greatly increased comfort on the homeward flight, Mike found the subsequent jet lag worse than after the outward journey and took a day or two to recover. It was almost a relief to be unemployed.

  Once he felt capable of more than routine mental activity, he followed a suggestion from his bank manager that he ought to discuss the disposition of his now very substantial resources. The change in the man's attitude over the past few months had been remarkable, but the reason was obvious, and although Mike would readily listen to a reasonable amount of advice and consider it very carefully, he did not expect to follow it uncritically. Told, for instance, that what he had recently come to think of as "real estate" was the best possible investment, he looked carefully at several superficially attractive properties, but decided that as he had no appearances to keep up and had made himself quite comfortable enough in his present quarters, he would need more substantial reasons before changing them. Rightly or wrongly he was more inclined to trust Dodgson and his associates, and took their advice on employing an investment manager.

  After that, he spent a few weeks visiting places he had always wanted to see but could never afford before. By that time he was beginning to long for more constructive activity, and said so to Terry Haskins when they met in the pub one evening. Terry was still a driver for Turnbull Coaches, the company where Mike had been a service engineer; he had always tended to be rather lugubrious and on that occasion seemed particularly down in the dumps. "A fair number of other people look like having time on their hands, too," he grumbled.

  "How's that?"

  "Haven't you heard? The firm's going bust."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Well, nothing's definite yet, but it looks about as black as it can be."

  Mike was not particularly surprised, as he had realised that his own redundancy was only one symptom of the company's long, slow decline. Nevertheless this was very bad news for the community. Although Turnbulls was not really a key component of the local economy, its closure would be a serious loss. Besides putting people out of work directly, it would cause a good deal of general inconvenience, even if competitors took up some of the services it ran, and Mike had read in the local press of probable knock-on effects if it failed. Before going to bed, he did some serious thinking, and the next morning phoned first of all his financial adviser, then Colin Turnbull who now ran the firm in question, to ask if he could come to see him.

  Turnbull was a decent enough character, not much older than Mike as it happened, but rather ineffectual; that was no doubt one reason for the company's problems and probably the most significant of them. He had always been more interested in the arts than in business, and might well have been much happier as an antiquarian bookseller though no more successful, but was forced into another direction altogether. Seven years earlier Horace Turnbull had at long last retired on his wife's insistence after a minor but alarming stroke, and Colin's much more capable elder brother Edgar had been expected to take over. However, he had longed for wider horizons, and against all precedent disregarding his mother's pleas and arguments, emigrated to Australia. Colin was reluctantly dragooned into taking his place.

  He naturally jumped to the wrong conclusion on receiving Mike's call and promptly launched into an embarrassed explanation that he was very sorry, but if Mike was looking to get his job back there was not a hope, since the financial position had become worse than ever in the past month. Mike took the first opportunity to break into the stream of excuses and assure him that he wished to talk about something else altogether. "It's a suggestion that I'm sure will interest you, and I hope you'll find it constructive, but I don't want to discuss it on the phone." After some havering, he got an appointment for the following afternoon.

  Mike knew he was in a strong position but still though it best to approach the subject gently. "I was sorry to hear about the firm's difficulties."

  Turnbull nodded gloomily. "Bad news travels fast, doesn't it? We've got enormous debts, and we're scarcely breaking even on operating costs. We may be able to stagger on for a week or two, but after that I'm afraid it's curtains. I can't see any alternative to bankruptcy."

  "A sad state of things, and I do sympathise, but as it happens I do see a possible alternative. Maybe I can help."

  "Oh? With all due respect, I don't see how." A more callous man would have bluntly ridiculed such a suggestion from a sacked blue-collar employee, and Mike appreciated the courtesy, but Turnbull went on: "Nothing but an enormous dollop of cash could save the firm now. You don't happen to have a couple of hundred thousand in your back pocket, do you?"

  "Not in my back pocket, no, but I could have it next week."

  "Come off it, this is no joking matter."

  "No, I'm perfectly serious. That money can be available."

  "What? Have you won the lottery or something?"

  Mike wryly commented that that seemed to be the usual automatic assumption, but explained the actual source of his unexpected wealth and that on certain conditions he was prepared to put a substantial amount of it into the company. "I'm afraid you may find my main condition unpalatable, but I must insist on it."

  "What is it?"

  "That I have unfettered managerial control. You're probably aware that things have been allowed to slide over the past few years, but I doubt whether you realise just how seriously."

  "You mean I'm a useless manager?"

  "I didn't say that, or mean to imply it, and I'm sorry if you took it that way. I'd put it rather differently: you're too good-natured. A lot more firmness is needed."

  "And you can supply it?"

  "I'm ready to try. More to the immediate point, I've got the cash you need and I'm ready to put it where my mouth is."

  "Hmm. That's a pretty strong argument. You said your suggestion would interest me, and it certainly does. But you've stated your main condition; what are the others?"

  "Just one; that you stay on in your present position."

  "So you're not proposing to turf me out, then?"

  "The idea never occurred to me. You're the head of the firm, and will be for many more years to come, I hope. I'll be the Joseph to your Pharaoh - assuming you're willing to work it that way. But I'll need your help on legal and administrative constraints that have to be observed, and that sort of thing."

  Turnbull was looking, and feeling, a great deal happier than at the start of the interview. Vanity was not one of his failings, and he was mightily relieved at the prospect of being freed from a responsibility that for months he had realised was too much for him. "That seems fair enough. For yourself, what precisely is the position you expect?"

  "It's the substance I want; I don't much care what you call it."

  "Operations Manager?"

  "Sounds OK."

  "Salary?"

  "The going rate, for a firm of this size. You'll know better than I do."

  "You trust me on that?"

  "I've never heard anyone question your honesty."

  They shook hands on the deal, and Turnbull promised to have the necessary documents drawn up for signature in the following week.

  Mike promptly got in touch with Terry Haskins to tell him of the new situation and ask him to be his second-in-command. Terry was first astonished, then greatly relieved that the business had been saved against all his expectations, but doubtful about taking on the responsibilities that Mike seemed to be suggesting. "I'm a driver, and that's what I like doing. I can't get my head round all this damned admin nonsense."

  "Turnbull's still taking care of that, thank goodness. I'm concerned with operational matters. What I have chiefly in mind is that you should help in any difficulties with the staff and keep the show running any time I'm away." Terry said he would think about it, and after a couple of days called Mike with his agreement.

  From his own experience Mike was well aware of things going on at ground level that would have escaped
Turnbull's attention. By cracking down on various fiddles, suggesting to one individual that it would be in his own interest to go quietly rather than face an almost certainly successful prosecution, hinting more vaguely at something similar to several others where charges were possible but the outcome more doubtful, and overhauling the system for purchasing and controlling supplies, he quickly improved the cash flow position. That enabled him to undercut the existing holders of the school run contract when it came up for renewal at the beginning of the following year, an auspicious start to the new millennium. It was a bit of a risk but it came off.

  As for Turnbull, despite his relief at the turn of events, he was still initially apprehensive about the way they might develop. He could imagine nothing worse than the situation before Mike's intervention, but there was a real risk that bankruptcy might simply have been delayed by a few months rather than avoided altogether. He got surly looks on chance meetings with the most aggressive victim of Mike's purge, and for a while took care to avoid dark corners when out at night, but looks themselves can't kill and fortunately nothing more serious developed. The man with the shakiest case against him threatened Mike with an industrial tribunal but was surprisingly ready to drop the idea in favour of a modest ex gratia payment. Among the remaining staff Turnbull sensed a new briskness now that the long-standing threat of redundancy had been lifted, at least for the time being, and time-keeping improved markedly.

  Although the older Turnbulls no longer took any active part in the firm and had not been told of the new arrangement until it was found to be working satisfactorily, they quickly realised that something had substantially changed. The first indication was in their son's demeanour. Instead of the false cheerfulness with which he had failed to disguise from them the gravity of the situation, he allowed himself to show some anxiety but now tinged with a hope that gradually developed into something approaching confidence. The extent of his reliance on Mike's intervention was embarrassing but in time had to be admitted, and the old couple immediately insisted on meeting this newcomer to form their own opinion of him. More correctly Lavinia insisted and Horace knew better than to argue, not that he had any real objection anyway.

  Hearing what was known of his history, she was especially anxious to know how a man so recently made redundant from not particularly well-paid employment in her son's company was now able to rescue it from bankruptcy. "It was through a very substantial legacy."

  "I shouldn't have thought that anyone with such wealthy family connections would have been working as a mere mechanic."

  At that Horace interrupted with "There's no such thing as a mere mechanic. A good one's worth his weight in gold."

  "I don't remember that showing in my pay packet! But the legacy didn't come from anyone in the family. It was someone my parents helped many years ago."

  To Lavinia this seemed much too far-fetched to be taken at face value, and Mike understood her concern but could only refer her to Dodgson. That, however, evidently relieved her doubts enough for her to give him the benefit of any that remained.

  Over the next few months she became quite friendly, and learning that Mike had neither parents nor wife, almost maternal; in fact rather too much like his own mother in some ways. Every time she invited him to dinner, he found there was also some presentable woman of about his own age and apparently without any current attachment.

  He found it a little annoying and after the fourth occasion diffidently mentioned it to Horace, who of course knew exactly what was going on and regarded it with tolerant amusement. "Don't you fancy any of them, lad?"

  "In a way, sometimes, but I don't like feeling pressurised."

  "Yes, I suppose it could seem something like a slave market. Now I don't want to pry if it's a touchy subject, but do you mind my asking if you have a regular girl friend?"

  "No, I haven't. Well, not what you could call a girl-friend. There is a woman I'm interested in - very interested, in fact - but I can't see anything coming of it." Horace raised his eyebrows and cocked his head interrogatively. "The main problem is that she's about five thousand miles away."

  "Yes, that is a bit of a difficulty, I agree, though I've known worse ones to be overcome. In one instance it turned out to be pretty disastrous, but that's beside the point. It needn't affect your social life here. No one's going to frog-march you to the altar, so why not indulge Lavinia in her little hobby, treat it as a game and simply enjoy it?"

  Mike considered this advice and saw the sense in it. Afterwards, looking less suspiciously at the various partners wished on him, he generally found them quite pleasant company for an evening. The most agreeable of them seemed quite content for the time being with their lot and regarded Lavinia's machinations in much the same way as Horace had suggested. However, one of them was rather less light-hearted about it, and Mike ventured to suggest a one-to-one evening. It was going quite well, he thought, but just when it seemed to be coming to the point, he got cold feet and hastily backed off, to her evident disgust. Afterwards he was rather ashamed of the experiment and never repeated it. For one thing, he kept thinking about Josie Lake. Horace's comment on the conquest of worse obstacles than distance rang in his mind, and if ever he dreamed of being with a woman, she had Josie's face.

  On more mundane matters, the business continued to respond to treatment. A year after taking over, Mike was feeling decidedly pleased with himself and seriously contemplated going up-market with coach tours to historic towns and the like. Before so substantial a move he thought it essential to discuss it with Colin Turnbull, who had no objections if Mike was reasonably confident that it would be a good one, but suggested that it might be unwise to jump straight into a firm commitment without more careful investigation. It might be a good idea, as well, to ask for Horace's views.

  That seemed a sensible suggestion, and Horace was indeed interested, though cautious. "It's a big step. The right sort of coach is pretty expensive, and tourism may be booming at the moment, but that doesn't mean it'll go on like that. It's the first thing people can give up if times are difficult. Even as it is, I hear that Hutchinsons is going into administration."

  Colin knew about that: "Yes, but that was as much through Tom Hutchinson's personal problems as anything else. 'Fast women and slow horses,' he said, and if he'd kept off the bottle he might have been able to cope even with those."

  Mike mulled it over for a few more days, but then Colin came in with some interesting news. "I've just had a call from Jack Beaumont."

  "Oh yes, who's he?"

  "Of course, I was forgetting, you haven't met him. He runs a coach-building outfit over in Worcester. Apparently Hutchinsons ordered a touring coach for delivery in May, but when it came to the point didn't seem too keen on the idea of paying. Jack hadn't completed the livery beyond the ground, so he took it no further until he got a reliable assurance that the sale would go through. It never did, and it obviously never will. Now he has a cash-flow problem, it's the wrong time of year to be selling, but if we'd take it straight away he'd knock 20% of the price we were considering the other evening."

  "He wants an answer more or less immediately, I suppose."

  "Yes, or he'll have to try elsewhere."

  Mike checked the diary, and there was nothing particular booked for the next day. "Hmm. Shall we take a look at it tomorrow?"

  "We?"

  "Yes, I'd like your opinion, and I'd want Terry to come along and give it a trial run. Better ask Beaumont if it's convenient, I suppose."

  Colin called him back and made the arrangement. "That seemed to cheer him up," he commented. "I don't think he expected us to bite so readily."

  Traffic was heavy, with more than usual delays at road works, so they arrived later than intended. The driver detailed to give a demonstration run had gone to lunch, and Terry was quite willing to take over without more ado, but Beaumont wanted his own lunch and suggested the others should join him at a nearby pub. Over the meal, Mike formed the impression of a
character he would be happy to do business with.

  Afterwards the demonstration went well, Terry was satisfied with his trial drive, and Beaumont asked Mike's opinion. "I'm definitely interested. If you make the discount 25% you'll have a deal on the spot, otherwise I'll have to think a bit more about it."

  Beaumont took very little time to agree and they shook hands on it. On the way back Mike queried Colin's Cheshire cat expression. "You're learning. Six months ago you'd have jumped at the 20%."

  His gratification was short-lived, as a week later he was brought up sharp by a mishap due entirely to his own carelessness. A rather late millennium choral festival was being held some twenty miles away, and St. Cyprian's church choir had booked with Turnbull Coaches to take them there. One of his drivers knew the church and some of the people involved, so was an obvious choice for the job, but on the actual day he called in sick so that another had to be found in a hurry. He asked for directions, but Mike was busy sorting out consequential changes to the roster and his hastily-scribbled note was barely legible. The driver had trouble in following it, but finding a crowd awaiting transport at St. Cyril's assumed that he had come to the right place and took them on board. It afterwards turned out that the coach actually booked by St. Cyril's from a much cheaper but less reputable outfit arrived later, was redirected to St. Cyprian's by someone who realised what must have happened, but broke down in the middle of nowhere half way to the destination and never reached it.

  St. Cyprians' choir-mistress was justifiably furious, and to make matters even worse Mike's instruction for the cashier to cancel the hire invoice went astray. Fortunately, although with some difficulty, she was appeased by a large helping of humble pie together with a fair-sized contribution to the choir's expenses, but he took the whole episode as a serious warning.

  Stepping back to look at himself, he realised that he was tired and making other mistakes as well. He had been overdoing things, not heavily but consistently, and needed a break. Terry's good sense had been an increasingly valuable support to him and could be trusted to keep the show running if Mike himself took a week off. One snag was that the new coach was due for delivery the following Monday, and as that was a slack period he had asked Terry to put it more thoroughly through its paces and report, but it was not an urgent requirement and anything more than a quick run around could wait until the following week. Getting away for a few days would be an opportunity to reconnoitre hotels and other features on possible tour routes - a busman's holiday if ever there was one, he thought wryly, but a complete change from his usual activities and something that could be taken in a fairly leisurely fashion.

  The hotel where he stayed on Monday night on the basis of a rather doubtful recommendation immediately proved a poor choice, but there were others nearby. After a quick check he tried a meal at the most promising, was well satisfied and asked to look at one of the rooms. Only then did he ask to see the manager.

  The receptionist naturally jumped to the wrong conclusion. "I'm terribly sorry if something's not to your satisfaction, Sir. I'm sure we can sort it out without troubling him."

  Mike assured her that he wasn't making a complaint, quite the opposite, but had a matter of business to propose. Mr. Ferguson was fetched and introduced, they discussed availability and discounts, and although reaching no firm conclusion they left it with a promise of further negotiation when the overall pattern of the pilot tour was clearer.

  The drive to the next destination was a long one, and Mike felt decidedly stiff on arrival. After checking in and being well satisfied with his room, he decided to take a walk to loosen up before dinner. A side road from the main street led unexpectedly to a gate into a large park, and away to the left he was astonished to see a massive building that looked somehow familiar. After racking his rather reluctant brains he recognised it as Blenheim Palace, which he had last seen on a trip with his parents over twenty years before. He had had not realised that he was so close, but it was an obvious point of interest for his intended pilot tour. It seemed a good omen.

  Returning to his hotel, as he was heading for the stairs, a woman waiting at the reception desk caught his eye. She was facing away from him, but something about her seemed familiar, and he paused in his tracks for a moment. She happened to turn slightly towards him, and then he recognised her. "Josie Lake!" he almost shouted, returning to the desk practically at a trot.

  She was startled, looked doubtful for a moment then exclaimed "Mike! What a lovely surprise!"

  "Yes, for me too. What are you doing here?"

  "Escorting a coach party around England - or rather that's what I'm supposed to be doing."

  "What do you mean, supposed to be?"

  "Just let me settle something here and I'll be with you."

  "Right, I'll wait in the sitting room"

  He asked coffee for two to be sent there, and found a suitable pair of seats, wondering what Josie had meant. Well, he should soon find out. She arrived just after the coffee and thanked him for ordering it; she needed it after the day she'd had.

  "Why, what on earth's gone wrong?"

  "Practically a disaster. I told you that I'm taking a party round England. We arrived at Heathrow on Saturday morning - and you know what you feel like after coming from the other side of the Rockies."

  "Pretty well smashed."

  "Yes, so we had an easy first day - a quick run round some of the sights of London. I'll skip the next couple of days, then we arrived here about four o'clock. We'd got the passengers checked in and had just finished unloading the luggage when we heard a police siren approaching, fast. Most people around got well out of the way, but one old guy kept on ambling across the road. Perhaps he was deaf. Then some maniac came tearing along at about eighty miles an hour, swerved to avoid this character, and crashed into our coach. He was in a fair mess when they eventually cut him out of the wreckage, I don't know whether alive or dead, and I'm ashamed to say I'm not all that bothered. My problem is that the suspension of the coach is wrecked and there's no chance of a repair this side of next week."

  "You've tried to get a replacement, I suppose?"

  "Of course, but no one I've tried has one available, and I've come to the end of those in the directory. I got on to our agent in London, but he couldn't do any better. Goodness knows what I'm going to tell our party."

  "Damned awkward situation. Still, at least none of them were killed."

  "That's something. Always look on the bright side of life, eh?"

  "That's it. Now will you excuse me for a minute or two? There's something I need to check"

  "Yes, of course. I'll see if the coffee can stir my brain into thinking of some solution."

  Told it was about the tour party's problem, the receptionist was quite happy for him to make a call from the desk. "Terry? Mike Crampton here. Have you had a chance to try the new bus yet? ... Good. I didn't expect any problems, but it's always best to be sure. ... No, of course it isn't just curiosity; there could be a real job for it here; four days probably. I'm at the Feathers Hotel in Woodstock. Could you get it here by nine tomorrow morning? ... Ten, then? ... Yes, you're right, I do want you at your post. Is there another driver available? Overtime, if necessary ... Good, either of those should do fine ... Be sure to explain that it'll mean being away from home for the rest of the week ... Right, I'll call you again in a few minutes to confirm."

  He returned to Josie and asked how many there were in her party, something he should perhaps have checked before, although it would have given the game away prematurely and raised possibly false hopes. As it was, the number proved to be no problem. "Twenty-five, mostly here but a few in the Marlborough. I haven't told them the worst yet."

  "Then don't, not just now. You can have a brand new thirty-four seater here at ten o'clock tomorrow; any use?"

  "What? You're joking!" He assured her of being perfectly serious.

  "Mike, you're an angel!"

  He phoned Terry to confirm that the coac
h would indeed be needed, and asked if he had managed to find another driver willing to take on the job. "No trouble at all. Fred Willis has just had a row with his missus and he's only too glad of an excuse to get away for a few days while she cools off. It's nothing unusual for them, and they always end up lovey-dovey afterwards."

  "So it looks like satisfaction all round."

  With that settled and the good news delivered to the tourists, he was able to ask if Josie was free to dine with him that evening. She recalled a previous occasion: "Are you still not thinking of anything afterwards?"

  "Thinking, perhaps, but not planning."

  She laughed, but maybe looked a shade wistful as she squeezed his hand - probably wishful thinking on his part. "Keep it that way. A nice thought, but I don't do it."

  It was not really a disappointment as he had expected nothing else. There was even a touch of relief; after the previous debacle, he was far from confident of making a good impression. With that possibility ruled out he had a clear mind to exchange news with her, and suggested a walk before dinner while they did so. She still found Europe cramped after the vast spaces of America, so he took her along the side road that led into the grounds of Blenheim. "We did the palace this afternoon," she said. "Oxford tomorrow."

  "A bit different from Yellowstone."

  "It could hardly be more so, I imagine."

  That reminded her; had he found the place he was supposed to inspect near Jenny Lake? Yes, and he now told her the rest of the story as related by Forster. "What a charming tale; quite romantic. So they were all laid to rest beside each other in the end?"

  "So it seems, although of course I can't be absolutely sure that the fourth burial really is Garstein's."

  "Not absolutely sure, of course, but it's overwhelmingly probable, isn't it? About ten million times more likely than any of the stories we're likely to be told about this or that ancient monument on our trip."

  "Well, perhaps a slight exaggeration, but in principle you're probably right."

  "I wonder, Mike. Perhaps it would be a point of interest for tour our guides."

  "I don't think that would be a very good idea. 'Please treat it with respect,' the plaque read. The odd visitor or two might be all right, but a bunch of thirty or forty mixed tourists milling around ... I'm not so sure."

  "No, you're right, of course, about taking them there, but there can't be any harm in just telling them about it."

  "No, I suppose not. Even given the opportunity, they wouldn't have much chance of finding the place without directions. For that matter, unless they were extraordinarily detailed, not much even with them, supposing my experience is anything to go by."

  It suddenly occurred to Josie that he hadn't told her on their previous meeting about his having a bus company. "I didn't then. I was just an unemployed mechanic, recently sacked from it as an economy measure, who happened since then to have come into funds. The firm was going bust, which seemed a pity for several reasons, so I bailed it out on condition that I should run it as I liked."

  "Luckily for me," she said, "and for my party."

  He in turn asked how she came to be on that tour, as he thought she dealt only with the Yellowstone area. "It's quite simple. A relation of my boss runs a travel firm in Idaho Falls. They had a party booked for a European tour in May but the intended escort fell sick too late for an experienced replacement to be brought in. I'm really too young to be picked for such a job in the normal run of things - they prefer the retired schoolteacher type - but Rick said I'd got a reputation for resourcefulness and keeping my head in difficult situations and that was the essence of it, so was I prepared to help his cousin out? I owed him a favour for allowing me time off to help the Hamiltons, it sounded interesting, so I accepted. Evidently they were satisfied with the way it went, and now there's a very unofficial agreement, probably quite illicit but that's not my problem, that the arrangement may be repeated whenever necessary. This time it wasn't quite so desperate but they asked me again anyway, and it was going well until the accident to the coach. And this is the second time you've got me out of a hole. Are you going to make a habit of it?"

  "If you'll let me."

  It was a flippant remark that had just slipped out, but he realised with a shock that he meant it. It was the nearest thing to an avowal that he had ever made to any woman, and he wondered if it had registered. Whether it had or not, she seemed very thoughtful as she took his arm and they headed back to the hotel.

  The coach duly turned up at a quarter to ten the following morning, and Fred gave a good report on its handling. "Let's hope it's as good when it's loaded," Mike cautioned.

  Josie emerged to see that all was well, but first handed him a slip of paper with the address of her firm's British agent, to send the hire invoice. "And don't undercharge them just because I'm involved!" He introduced her to Fred and asked her to give him any comments from the passengers about the coach; this was its first outing in earnest, and he would like to have some feedback.

  When all their luggage was loaded, Josie made a short speech explaining how Mr. Crampton had saved them from what had seemed an impossible situation and asking them to show their appreciation with the usual round of applause. He blushed and told them he was delighted to have been able to help, it would never have happened but for Josie, so it was her they should thank. She checked them all on and before herself boarding, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, which one or two of the passengers who noticed it cheered, and they were off. Then he checked out from the hotel and continued his survey.

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