Hitler's Sock

Will Collins

Description

The Coate-Duffel family dynasty had been founded on the wealth generated by their button factory over the last three hundred years.Now, owing to the cheap import of buttons from the East, the family business is in jeopardy, and Frederick Coate-Duffel has to find an urgent solution.With the help of Reginald Pratt, an architect of questionable ability who has nevertheless managed to acquire an international reputation, they pursue a plan to convert the button factory into a museum of extraordinary curios.The Superior People's Alliance, a political party, are desperate to obtain the factory, believing it would provide an ideal platform for their social engineering experiments. They also will go to any lengths to obtain one of the key exhibits that is ear-marked for the museum, a sock that supposedly belonged to Adolf Hitler.As the situation descends into chaos, nobody, is aware of the part that Clarence, the goat, will play in events.

Sujets

• Humour

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 24 février 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781782349112
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page
Hitler’s Sock
A novella in the Pratt International series

Will Collins



Publisher Information
Published in 2013 by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
The right of Will Collins to be identified as the Authors of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998
Copyright © 2013 Will Collins
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated 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. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.



Dedication
To the Guv and SJC for their continuing support and encouragement on this and all my projects.



PART ONE
The Button Factory
Chapter 1
Until recently, Frederick Coate-Duffel had always been secure in the knowledge that the wealth generated by the business established by his ancestors would continue to provide a comfortable income for him, his family, and subsequent generations of Coate-Duffels.
The question of there being future generations of Coate-Duffels was however a delicate one. In spite of a series of spectacularly unsuccessful personal relationships, Frederick had no offspring of his own, and he knew that this subject was a major bee in the queen bee bonnet of Cecilia, his mother. As the undisputed matriarch of the Coate-Duffel dynasty, Cecilia was very much at odds with Primrose, Frederick’s current fiancee, over the question of lineage. Primrose’s philosophy was essentially that of an alternative lifestyle, green politics, eating vegetables and saving the planet. Family fortunes, bloodlines, and overpopulating the world with messy children who only contributed to carbon emissions and poisoning the environment, were certainly not on Primrose’s agenda.
Nor did the question of lineage appear to be high on the priority list for Frederick’s siblings. Their priorities consisted of ensuring that the income from the old family money was sufficient to ensure financial comfort while they pursued their various hedonistic and oddball activities.
His younger sister, Fenella, was obsessed with social status, a neurosis exacerbated by the fact that she was married to a particularly obnoxious politician, Sebastian Salt. Sebastian was the deputy leader of a shadowy extreme political group, striving to achieve a higher profile, with ambitions of forming a coalition at the next general election. The general direction of the Superior People’s Alliance , known by the acronym SUPA was unfortunately all too clear, but policy details had yet to be defined in their manifesto, shortly to be announced.
Then there was the youngest sibling, Archie. Archie had dropped out of university to pursue his passions of smoking dope, and collecting music festival programmes, old bus tickets and cigarette cards.
Try as he might, Frederick could not find a single valid reason why his mother’s obsession with perpetuating the Coate-Duffel line should be given the time of day. Apart from himself, tasked with keeping the family business going, none of the others had done a day’s work in their lives.
As he drove his shiny new black Range Rover through the suburbs of Grimston, Frederick could not suppress a smirk. The Coate-Duffel family were about to experience a shock. Mind you, he knew that it meant things would be changing for him as well. Just as well he be bought the Range Rover when he did.
He was now on the outer edge of the Grimston industrial estate, and turned the into a leafy country lane. It was a cul-de sac, at the end of which was an early Victorian red brick two storey factory building.
The sign at the entrance announced the building as being The Grimston Button Factory. Prop. Fred’k. K. Coate-Duffel.
Frederick turned into the car park, which was almost empty. Five years earlier, he would have had to rely on his reserved plot to guarantee a parking space. Now, the vehicles in the car park were limited to two other cars, both of them old bangers, an ancient moped and a couple of bicycles.
Frederick climbed out of the Range Rover, crossed the car park and entered the reception. Not so long ago this would have been a busy area with people milling around and a receptionist in attendance. Now there was no one except for Ernie the security guard, Grimston Button s longest serving employee.
‘Morning Ernie. How’s it going?’ asked Frederick as he passed the reception desk where Ernie was sat with a mug of tea reading The Sun.
‘Quiet,’ murmered Ernie glumly, laying the paper down. ‘No telephone calls. No visitors. There was a little post. I’ve left it on your desk.’
Frederick stuck his hands in his pockets, hunched his shoulders, and shuffled to his office, stopping briefly to look at a series of large museum type display cabinets, now gathering dust, in the centre of the reception area. These showcases, together with several more mounted on the walls, contained exhibits of more than three hundred years of Grimston Buttons production, the artifacts that had been responsible for producing the wealth of the Coate-Duffel dynasty. There were military buttons, navel and air force buttons, buttons for the police, buttons for fashion houses, and buttons for work clothes. There were large buttons, small buttons, buttons made made of brass, steel, plastic and pearl.
This collection of literally thousands of buttons, many with specific historic or artistic significance, was generally acclaimed to be the most extensive, and the most valuable button collection in the world. Much to Frederick’s irritation, the collection was no longer limited solely to buttons. Of necessity the company had recently had to diversify to satisfy market demand, and now also produced various types of fabric and zip fasteners which were displayed in one of the less conspicuous corners of one of the more remote showcases.
Frederick passed into the corridor, opened the door to his comfortable, wood panelled office, and let out an audible sigh as he slumped into his high backed leather chair. He looked at the silver letter opener, unable to summon the will to open the first of the envelopes that Ernie had placed neatly on the blotter.
He put his elbows on the desk, and rested his chin in his hands. He could not really see there was anything more he could do. There was a global recession. Nobody wanted British buttons any more. They were being produced in China and India at a fraction of the price, and he just could not compete. There were cash flow problems, and the business was in freefall. There was a banking crisis, and the banks were just not lending.
He knew instinctively what the contents of two of the letters would be. The first was from the Grimston Building Society . Unbeknown to the rest of the family, Frederick had secured a mortgage on the button factory at the beginning of the downturn. It was the only source of finance available. This letter was not only rejecting his request for further funds, but was threatening foreclosure if he did not settle his rapidly amounting arrears.
The second letter was from the bank. The business had exceeded its’ overdraft facility by a considerable amount, and again no more funds were to be made available. They also were threatening action for recovery of monies owed.
It was just as well, thought Frederick, that his parasitic family had modest trust fund incomes, as their milking of the traditional family business was about to come to an abrupt end. But there was one last chance.
He picked up the third envelope, a large formal communication, and checked the sender’s address on the back. He had been waiting for this.
The wave of recent governmental austerity cuts had been accompanied by official investigations into ways central and local government could raise more funds. One of these potential sources of increased income was parking fees. Instructions were to go out to parking enforcement authorities across the country that the revenue they collected had to be increased by at least fifty per cent. In effect, a stealth tax, rather than more obvious direct taxation. An increase in parking tariffs was considered to be politically unacceptable in a recession, so the parking enforcement officers were to be instructed to increase their output. That is, simply give out more tickets.
The original idea for the parking increases had come from SUPA , and Sebastian had carelessly let it slip. Frederick saw the potential for the button factory should the idea be implemented, but given his lack of confidence in the Superior People’s Alliance, had leaked the information in the hope that it would be taken up by the opposition.
This reason this could be very good business for Frederick was simple. The parking wardens uniforms had to be redesigned to allow for more rapid access to the tools of their trade to enable them to meet their targets, and the Health and Safety Executive had now become involved in the question of the redesign. It was felt that the wardens would be at considerably more risk than before from the general public, and therefore the HSE had decreed that fastenings around the neck should be rapid release to reduce the risk of injury to the wardens by throttling.
Tenders had been invited for the design and supply of the uniforms, and Frederick had succeeded in putting in quotations to all of the uniform designers for prices for supplying the buttons and fastenings. He had spent a considerable amount of time and energy formulating his options, and he had cut his prices to the bo