Jane Forxworthy

Paul Kelly

Description

This fantastic new eBook from well-known author Paul Kelly will make an excellent addition to any fiction-lover's digital shelf. Featuring strong characters and plots which draws you into Kelly's worlds, reviewers have been recommending his titles for years. This latest addition to his catalogue of successes is sure to be another winner.

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 12 mars 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781781661536
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page

JANE FOXWORTHY




By
Paul Kelly




Publisher Information

Jane Foxworthy published in 2011 by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

Copyright © Paul Kelly

The right of Paul Kelly to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.



Chapter One

WILLS LOOKED AT THE SCRIBBLED NOTE, attached to his drawing board and adjusted his reading glasses as he unwrapped his sandwiches from the plastic container that Evie had packed for him that morning. He blinked nervously and looked away for a few seconds, wondering what on earth J.D. would want from him . . and on a Monday morning too . . ’Get to God’s office A.S.A.P . . Urgentius,’
The note was unsigned but he recognised Graham’s scrawl. Was it another one of his practical jokes or should he proceed as the note instructed? He looked again at his sandwiches and his stomach rumbled. He loved mozzarella cheese but he shoved them hastily back into the plastic container, before throwing it casually into the bottom drawer of his desk.
The rain peppered the windows lightly with rhythmic tapping as the wind blew in spasms across the panes and along the low flat roof, so clear in his vision from where he was standing. He used to sit out on that roof when the sun was shining and eat his sandwiches there . . He shuddered, took another look at the bottom drawer and shrugged his shoulders.
“Just the sort of weather for bad news,” he concluded and kicked the drawer closed with his knee as he left the office and headed along the narrow, yellow corridor to The office of God. . . . He stood pensively at the door before he knocked, adjusting his tie and rubbing each of his shoes against his trouser legs.
“Come!” the stern voice commanded.
“You wanted to see me Sir?”
John Deacon looked up from his large, impressive mahogany desk with the portrait of his father glowering down at him from the wall behind, making sure that everything was just hunky-dory as the old man would have said, had he been alive. The atmosphere was always very formal when you were in the Chamber of God . . but to Will’s surprise, he was offered a chair and what was even more surprising, a Havana cigar from the boss’s own silver cigarette casket. The one with his father’s initials proudly engraved on the lid.
He took the seat but declined the cheroot and J.D. smiled his approval warmly.
“Wise man . . Wise man indeed,” he emphasized, “These things can only injure your health is what I always say. Only keep them here, because . . well,” He shrugged his shoulders and stuck his thumb in the air, pointing over his head at the venerable portrait on the wall. “The old boy liked a cigar now and again, you know and the silver box there . . well that was presented to him when he was made Chairman of the Company.”
J.D. chuckled a little, before he coughed nervously and resumed his status of dignity, but Wills was astonished at the manner in which he had conducted the interview, so far. It didn’t seem as though he was on the carpet for anything after all. Quite to the contrary . . but he was puzzled as to what to expect next and his curiosity was biting harder by the moment.
“Well Willson . . I’ll get straight to the point. I don’t like beating about the bush and anyway, I’m sure your wondering why I’ve sent for you, eh?” Before Wills could answer J.D. lowered his fat chin into his cupped hands and with his elbows rooted to the desk, he closed his eyes as he continued to explain. “We’ve had a meeting recently . . last night to be precise, a Board Meeting and we have a problem we feel you may be able to rectify.” He raised his hands in the air at this juncture and waved then casually. “Now I know what your going to say to that Willson and it was expected at the meeting that you would view our proposals with a certain . . well, reservation.”
Wills raised his eyes to the portrait of J.D’s father and wondered what the hell was to come next as he tried to smile and give the impression that he was absolutely aut faite with the situation, whatever the hell it was, but even his greatest or wildest guess was soon to dispel that smile when J.D. came out with his next statement.

“We want you to go to Scotland as General Manager of the offices there. We know you can do it . . We feel you are the best man for the job.” J.D. rattled off his demand in a parrot fashion and sat back in his chair, resting his arms on his belly and twiddling his thumbs as Wills sat motionless. He felt a lightness come over him as if his body was in some kind of levitation. It certainly wasn’t steadfast on the ground as J.D. continued to stare at him with his round gray eyes and where perspiration was already forming around the puffy folds of his smooth skin. He blinked. “Well . . Will you do it?” he asked. Wills looked towards the window. Everything outside was just as it was before he came into J.D’s office, except that the rain had subsided and the sun was making a feeble attempt to break through the clouds that still hung heavy with laboured darkness. “Well, will you?” came the second and impatient demand as the boss mopped his perspiring brow with an immaculate handkerchief that he produced from the pocket of his equally immaculate pin-stripped jacket.
“Well . . Sir . . I’m stunned . er, flattered of course, but there are others. Others above me in seniority here who are far more qualified. I mean . . some of them are Managers already and I’m only an architect in the General Office, Wills stuttered, but God had descended into the character of J.D. at that moment and his resolute and adamant appeal began to wither.
“I know only too well what staff we have . . I’m not asking you to tell me that, or their qualifications. . We don’t make decisions lightly, man . . and this matter is of the greatest urgency. You’ll be paid for the task . . We’re not running a Charity, you know.”
Wills shuffled uncomfortably where he sat and wished the ground would open up and swallow him . . without fuss, but that was not to be.
“No Sir, “ he said, “I am not the person you should choose. I’m not the man for the job,” he concluded with an inner conviction that he had made the right decision in the time he had been given in which to do it, but God banged his fist down hard on his desk and the silver cigarette box flew into the air with cigars dropping everywhere around the desk and down onto the floor. Wills tried to search for those that landed near him, but J.D. snorted and banged his fist down again.
“Never mind those bloody things and don’t tell me you’re not the man for the job. You’re a splendid architect with a wealth of knowledge below your belt. .” J.D. stopped talking at this point and wondered if he had made the correct metaphor of his employees qualifications. “Well, you know what I mean, Slade. How long have you been with us? Nearly twenty years, I would say, yes?” he barked.

Wills replaced the silver casket on the desk, but he left the cigars on the floor and stood on one as he moved his chair. He smiled weakly and kicked the cheroot under the desk where he hoped it wouldn’t be noticed.
“Seventeen years, Sir, I came her from Grafton’s in 1961,” he answered and J.D. sighed as his manner softened.
“Willson . . Listen to me please. You’ll never get a chance like this again, you know that, don’t you? I’m offering you . . that is WE are offering you a position that most employees would give their right arm for.” If you twisted it enough, thought Wills . . Where’s the catch? “Your records show that you are one of the best architects we have had in this firm for many a year and you are experienced in administration and in Personnel . . Why, Miss Williams says you carried things off wonderfully well when she was pregnant last year.”
Wills interrupted respectfully,
“ Mrs . Williams, Sir,” he said quietly.
“What? Oh! Mrs Williams or Miss Williams, what the hell does it matter. She said it didn’t she?”
It might make a difference to her, thought Wills but J.D. stormed on.
“And your design craft. That’s the envy of many, I’m sure.”
Wills had another little thought at this juncture . . Why haven’t you thought of this before when Managers had been appointed in the past and I was overlooked . . . but J.D. went on, waving his hands in the air.
“We need a very particular type of person for this consignment and whatever you say, you are the right person for the job.”
The rain had started again when Willson looked out of the window.
“But Sir . . I am a married man. I have my home here in London, with a mortgage up to my ears and it has taken me a long time to get this far, so how could I start again, in another country and with a different job?”
J.D continued to wave his hands in the air.
“You won’t be starting again . . This post is for one year only. That’s how long the contract would last and your home will be safe here until you return, with your mortgage paid whilst your up there . . and . .” Wills stared wide-eyes at his boss and waited for what was to come next. “In Scotland, you’ll have a three bedroom house . . detached of course . . completely self-contained with