Wings of a Sparrow

  As the taxi sped off, he crossed the road to where Mick was standing lighting one of his roll-ups. After taking a long drag, the old man smiled wryly and pointed to the car parked on the short drive leading up to the garage.

  At first Rob couldn’t take it in, but after walking around it a couple of times, the full realisation hit. He shook his head and after fumbling with the key, walked inside his house.

  ‘Why the bloody hell is what looks like fifty grand’s worth of brand new Jaguar parked outside?’ he asked, desperately trying to inject a note of panic into his voice but failing badly on account of the slurring.

  Jane walked in from the kitchen, her face the very picture of excitement.

  ‘They lent me it to try out. Oh my God Rob, it’s incredible.’

  ‘Garages don’t just hand motors like that to people who walk in off the bloody street,’ he said in response.

  ‘They do when you get your solicitor to confirm that you've just inherited six million pounds,’ smiled Jane. ‘Anyway, where the bloody hell have you two been? I texted you two hours ago.’

  ‘Oh sorry,’ spluttered Rob. ‘We were with the lads. Talking about- well you know. What’s up?’

  Jane made a mental note to quiz her husband on exactly what you know actually meant later on and instead nodded toward Charlie who was sitting on the sofa. He didn’t look pleased.

  ‘You OK son?’ asked Rob although even in his slight stupor could see that he most certainly wasn’t, a fact reinforced by the stony glare thrown in his direction.

  ‘So I guess your mum told you then. Must have come as a bit of a shock,’ slurred Rob.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re even thinking about doing it,’ came the curt retort.

  ‘Come on Charlie,’ said Jane, her voice containing a hint of irritation. ‘Finding out your parents are suddenly loaded can’t exactly be the worst news you’ve ever had.’

  ‘It's not that,’ said Charlie. ‘But finding out my dad is now the sole owner of the scum is. I mean it… it’s… it sucks.’

  ‘I know how you feel son,’ said Rob trying to feign sadness and understanding. ‘I really do, but-’

  ‘Dad, it's the scum. It's like, you're a traitor.’

  ‘I wish people would stop calling me that,’ said Rob irritably.

  ‘Why?’ butted in Mick. ‘It's what you'll be.’

  ‘Can we focus on the matter in hand please?’ interrupted Jane, who was growing increasingly tired of her father-in-law’s pettiness.

  ‘Look, Charlie I know what you must think, I really do. But I have a plan. It’ll be for one season, tops,’ said Rob desperately.

  Mention of a plan did not pass Jane by and although she didn’t acknowledge it, she let out a silent yelp at the thought of not having to convince her husband to do the right thing. Not that it would have been a problem, but it wouldn’t have been pretty.

  ‘Well I'm not moving,’ said Charlie abruptly before settling back in his chair and folding his arms in defiance.

  Jane raised an eyebrow in admonishment but bit her lip as the room fell silent. She could see the anger on her son’s face and knew him well enough to know that her best course of action at the moment was to say nothing and let him sulk for a while. Besides, this had clearly been as big a shock to him as it had to her - and on top of everything, he was faced with the prospect of moving away from all his friends, albeit into a life of luxury.

  Rob, however, was crushed. He hadn’t considered the impact this might have on his son and he struggled to think of anything he could say which might make a difference, but there was nothing.

  ‘He can stay with me.’

  The words cut through the silence like a knife. Jane looked at Mick with an expression which was a mixture of horror and hatred.

  ‘What?’ she gasped.

  ‘What?’ added Rob anxiously.

  ‘He can stay with me,’ repeated Mick. ‘He’s got school to think of. D’you really want to drive him fifty odd miles to and from school twice every day?

  Jane and Rob looked at each other, each one struggling to work out what to say.

  ‘No, there’s no way we’re splitting this family up,’ said Rob, inwardly thrilled at potentially having found at least one way of showing his late uncle a modicum of defiance. ‘We’ll just have to stay here.’

  Jane looked at him in horror. Much as she loved her own house and didn’t want to disrupt Charlie’s schooling, the prospect of leaving a million pound mansion sitting empty did not register at all.

  ‘What do you think?’ continued Rob who was increasingly warming to this new development. ‘It makes sense. We could go to the big house at weekends. Plus, you could continue working if you want. You know you love your job.’

  It was all Jane could do to stop herself from laughing. Sometimes she wondered if Rob took any notice of her at all - because if he did, he’d know full well that she hated her job with a passion matched only by her hatred of football. Indeed, handing her notice in was high on her list of things she was looking forward to doing.

  ‘We can’t do that,’ she said.

  ‘Why not?’ asked Rob. ‘It’s the obvious thing to do.’

  ‘Because’, replied Jane as she struggled for something to say which didn’t make her sound like a mercenary bitch, ‘it just erm… wouldn’t be right. Besides, can you imagine?’

  ‘Imagine what?’ asked Rob.

  ‘Even I know that when this comes out it’s going to be a massive story. We’ll have the press camping on the garden,’ she said, thrilled that she had actually come up with what seemed to her to be a perfectly plausible response. ‘It’ll be a nightmare.’

  Rob looked at her and frowned. The media interest was another thing he hadn’t considered, but he’d had enough dealings with them over the years to know that she was right. And it would come out, fairly quickly he was guessing.

  ‘Shit,’ he said. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘And what about the City fans?’ Jane continued excitedly. ‘D’you want them round here giving you grief? At least the big house has a wall to keep them away. And gates.’

  Rob looked at her and then at Charlie. Whatever the state of their own relationship, their son was the most important thing in his life and he had only ever wanted the very best for him. ‘I suppose. It’s not like it’s forever. I’ll think about it OK?’

  ‘It would only be during the week though,’ said Jane trying hard not to sound too relieved. ‘You’d have to come up to stay with us at weekends.’

  ‘Not on match days,’ said Charlie defiantly. ‘I'm not missing any United games. I'll go with granddad.’

  The comment hit Rob like a punch in the face but he shrugged his shoulders in acceptance.

  ‘Great,’ he sighed. ‘Just great.’

  Wings of a Sparrow

  Part Two

  Chapter Eleven

  Rob stared bleakly at the A4 sized buff folder which lay open on the desk in front of him.

  ‘So once I sign this, that’s it?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ replied Lee England who increasingly reminded Rob of an eager vulture desperate to secure his prey. Then again, Rob thought that about most lawyers.

  He glanced up at Jane sitting to his right, her face a picture of happiness. She nodded in the direction of the folder, willing him to sign. But still he resisted.

  ‘Then what happens?’

  ‘The signature will confirm that you have agreed to the terms of the will and will have until the final day of the current football season to complete the task as outlined. In the meantime, all monies and assets will be placed in trust until the task has been completed.’

  ‘Or failed,’ added Rob. ‘Let’s not forget that.’

  ‘You won’t fail,’ said Jane in a tone which contained little by way of support and much by way of an instruction. ‘I won’t let you.’

  Rob sighed in response.

  ‘And I will need your bank details at some point,’ continued the solicitor.

/>   ‘What for?’

  ‘Your salary of course.’

  Jane leant forward. This was totally new information.

  ‘Salary?’

  ‘Of course,’ smiled Lee. ‘As chairman of the club your husband will obviously be paid. As executor of the trust I am also authorised to put a sum at Rob’s disposal to cover short term expenses. I assume you are moving into the house?’

  Jane looked at him aghast. This had all happened so fast she hadn’t even considered anything about a salary although she did recall something being said about an allowance. Truth to tell, she hadn’t even thought about how she would pay for the Jaguar she’d borrowed, although she had noted that when she’d requested the solicitors guarantee, he’d given it without hesitation.

  ‘How much is his salary?’

  ‘Your uncle never drew anything from the club so based on the current chairman’s salary, we have allocated fifty-thousand a year. Would that be acceptable?’ He paused for a second then added ‘there is also income from the distribution company. ‘I think that’s an additional fifty thousand or so.’

  Jane took a deep breath and stared at her husband who was starting to look pale. One hundred thousand a year! That was more money than they had ever dreamed of.

  ‘Have you not signed that yet?’ she said in excited approval., a little too anxiously for Rob and Lee England’s liking.

  With yet another sigh, Rob lowered the pen he’d held tightly in his hand and scrawled across the bottom of the paper. Almost instantly, Lee England witnessed the signature, dotted the ink with a small blotter and lifted the folder, leaving Rob staring at the empty desk.

  So there it was, done. He felt sick to his stomach. What on earth had he taken on?

  His train of thought was interrupted by the door opening as Julie entered carrying a tray holding glasses and a bottle of champagne, the loud pop bringing a giggle of delight from his wife.

  ‘Congratulations to you both,’ gushed Lee as he handed them both a drink. ‘This is quite an occasion.’

  Rob took a mouthful of champagne and tried to calm himself down a little as Jane and Lee England babbled excitedly about the forthcoming year.

  ‘So when do I start work then?’ he asked cautiously.

  They both turned to face him.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘When do I start?’ repeated Rob. ‘At-’ the words almost choked him. ‘At City.’

  Lee England laughed. A hearty, relieved laugh.

  ‘Whenever you like. You are in effect, now the boss. However, I have taken the liberty of arranging a meeting with the current board for 10.30 tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Tomorrow!’ gasped Rob almost dropping his glass.

  ‘Best get the ball rolling, don't you think? There’s a lot of work to do. Don’t worry, I’ll be in attendance to introduce you. Oh, there is one last thing I need to tell you.’

  Rob looked at him desperately as the solicitor paused for effect. Clearly there was another bombshell coming.

  ‘No one at the club actually knows anything about this yet. I thought it best that you tell them yourself.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Rob stared at himself in the mirror and sighed. He would have sworn on oath that he’d lost weight recently but his suit was providing an entirely different testimony.

  It wasn’t just the suit either. Thanks to a sleepless and stressful night, his face looked like it needed ironing and even what hair he did have looked greyer. He looked, and felt, like a sack of shit.

  The events of the previous twenty-four hours had left him both physically and emotionally drained and he would have given anything to be able to sit down and at least try and get his head around the fact that potentially, he was minted beyond his wildest dreams. Yet thanks to that bloody brief and his sodding letters, he’d had barely a second to think and his mind had been firmly fixed upon the horrific task he had been handed. Most specifically, the question of how was he actually going to pull it off. After all, he worked for the council, not as head of some multi-national conglomerate, and while he had a rudimentary grasp of management, he certainly wasn't a high flyer.

  He had even begun to consider the possibility that this was actually part of his uncle’s grand plan. After all, if it was revenge the old duffer was after, what could be better than to stress him out and make him suffer for a full season, safe in the knowledge that he would fail anyway. It made sense - and truth to tell, was almost certainly what he’d have done if he’d been in his uncle’s position.

  Yet as if all that hadn’t been enough, he’d had to contend with an evening of Jane talking excitedly about everything from houses to holidays. Even though he had at least managed to persuade her not to tell a soul until he’d got his first day of the way, he had become increasingly irritated by the fact that she had shown not an iota of interest in his plight. Never mind the ten months of hard graft and pressure he faced, to her it was already a done deal. Unbelievable.

  For the fifth time in as many minutes Rob sighed, and tore the tie from his neck and retied it. It made not a jot of difference. The sack of shit continued to stare back at him.

  ‘Are you bloody serious?’ asked Jane as she placed a cup of tea on the dressing table and sat on the bed. ‘A United tie. Really?’

  ‘Bloody right,’ he said in response. ‘Start as you mean to go on.’

  Jane stood up, pulled open the wardrobe door and within a few seconds was holding a plain purple tie in her outstretched hand, the look on her face far more effective than any words.

  Rob hesitated for a second before reluctantly taking it from her and putting it on.

  `I don't know what you're so worried about,’ she said as she stood and tied it properly. ‘It's not like they have much of a choice, is it?’

  ‘Do the words lion’s den not mean anything to you?’

  Jane moved in front of him before grasping the knot and pushing it up, a little too violently, he noted. Then, having smoothed him down a bit, she stepped back and looked him up and down, her face cloaked in a look of resigned dismay which did little to soothe his own bodily issues let alone the bats doing cartwheels in his stomach.

  ‘We have to take you shopping. You desperately need a new suit. Or liposuction.’

  ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence. It means a lot.’

  Jane smiled and patted him on the cheek.

  ‘You’ll be fine, just be yourself,’ she said. ‘On second thoughts, be someone else. That bloke off Dragon’s Den. The smug one.’

  ‘They’re all bloody smug,’ said Rob. ‘And again, not helping.’

  ‘Look Rob, I know this is all new to you but you’re going to be the boss. You need to, well, man up a bit.’‘You don’t get it do you?’ he pleaded. ‘I have no idea what I’m walking into, let alone what I’m going to be doing.’

  For a second Jane felt a pang of guilt. She’d barely given a second thought to how nervous her husband must be feeling.

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ she said almost tenderly. ‘All you have to remember is one simple thing.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Whatever they say or do will be nothing compared to what I'll say and do if you cock this up.’

  ‘Thanks. That’s no help.’

  ‘It wasn’t mean to be a help,’ she smiled. ‘It was meant to be an incentive. Now, bugger off. I have a million things to do today.’

  Rob stared at her blankly for a second before lowering his head almost onto his chest and walking from the room. Jane watched him leave and smiled to herself as she listened to the heavy thuds of him trudging down the stairs.

  ‘Have a nice day,’ she called, stifling a giggle.

  The slamming of the front door all the reply she needed or expected.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rob sat in his car, eyes fixed firmly on the home of the football club he hated with a passion but which fate had decreed he was now ultimately responsible for; City FC.

  If there was a top ten of places he d
idn’t want to be, number two was where he was sitting right now. Number one lay a hundred yards directly in front of him.

  Despite it being only shortly after ten o’clock, the area around the entrance to George Park was reasonably busy but it was all, he noted with some satisfaction, slightly decrepit. The faded signage and tatty fencing reminded him of a dodgy scrap yard, and the various people wandering in and out looked like refugees from a Jeremy Kyle audience. Scruffy was the word which sprang most easily and readily to Rob’s mind.

  In stark contrast, the succession of flash motors Rob had watched pass through the gates in the past fifteen minutes had caused more than a raised eyebrow or two. Some had obviously contained unsuspecting directors heading for the nuclear device which would drop on them at shortly after 10.30 but others had been driven by young men in training gear. Players, he had guessed, heading for either training, treatment or simply to collect their hugely inflated pay packets.

  Given that he was sitting in a eight-year-old Ford Mondeo which was unlikely to see another MOT, none of the irony of this was lost on him and Rob made a mental note to address his own transport situation as soon as he could.

  However, before he could give it any more thought, the ping of a text arriving broke his chain of thought and he glanced at his phone to see Jane on the screen. Yet even as he was reading the belated good luck message she had sent him it began to ring.

  ‘Yes?’ he sighed into it. ‘I have to dad… Don’t be so bloody stupid. Yes, I know- well at the moment not being a son of yours wouldn’t be such a bad thing, because I wouldn’t be in this bloody position would I?’

  Without listening to another word he closed the call, stuffed the phone into his jacket pocket and started the car.

  It took just a few short seconds to reach the gates and Rob slowed the car to a crawl as he looked for somewhere to park. But even as he was scanning the car park for an empty slot, a horn sounded behind him and he looked in his mirror to see yet another BMW containing yet another youth. In response, Rob came to a halt, keeping both eyes on the car behind. Then the horn sounded again, this time for longer.