Simon’S Return

By Ralph Hill

A story of a young man's return home to learn that he has not only inherited his father's genes but has found love with a long lost cousin.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477235508

Ralph Hill

Ralph Hill's life took him from a North London Council estate, around the world with the Royal Navy during the Second World War and into a long career as a teacher. With an enquiring mind and a philosophical bent, he turned many of his experiences and reflections on life into short stories, several of which have an underlying moral theme.

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© 2012 by Ralph Hill. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/08/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-3548-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-3549-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-3550-8 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

STATEMENT

Many places in this novel are real but no intention is ever intended to defame or in any way hurt their reputation: all actions are pure fiction.

All the characters in this novel are fictional with one exception and there is no intent to suggest or infer any bad actions by any living person. The sole exception is the MP Vince Cable, a politician admired by all parties and in my opinion the one most able to help cure our financially troubled country out of the current recession, a true and honourable man of whom I make one tiny mention.

Ralph Hill. September 2012

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CHARACTERS

Simon Deltray: Father Gerald; Mother Betty

Charlotte Simpson Cousin: Father Ben; Mother Gloria

Jacob : Simon’s Solicitor

Phoebe: Simon’s Sister

Peter: A cousin—Accountant

Sam Tenderton: Simon’s Accountant/Chief Assistant

Mrs. Stoke’s: Lady’s Outfitter

Henry Needham:Southgate Hotel Barman

Joe: Simon’s ship board friend

Jane Owen: Charlie’s housekeeper

Mrs. James: Housekeeper/cook at The Birches

J.Jamieson (JJ): Estate Agent

Mr. Jamieson: Surveyor

Bella: Charlie’s old school friend

Jim Hargraves: Architect

Ken Thwaites: Project Manager.

Quentin & Pamela Davies: Greenpeace

Stanley Trent (The Saint): MP. Minister for Housing.

Elaine: Sam’s new partner: Charlie’s accountant.

JOE — :Prime Minister.

Mr, Mrs and Jeremy Ford (Police Super and tyro reporter.)

Maureen & Geoff Riley: Betterwood Furniture.

Brian Holland: Holland’s Furnitire.

Contents

CHARACTERS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE

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CHAPTER ONE

Arrival

Charlotte lay awake as she had for most of the night, listening to the steady breathing coming from the guest room. This was what she had waited for so long, for so many years but she wondered if she was doing the right thing. Not normally one to ask questions of herself she was finding it difficult and trembled at the thought of putting her foot well and truly ‘in it’! Suddenly she realised she was cold: she always slept in the nude, covered by blankets but her worries had her almost sitting up. If he was to see her like this it could be embarrassing, to say the least. Not a shy girl she knew that she had to tread very carefully over the next few hours.

Pulling a dressing gown she almost giggled: she was acting like a school girl, lusting after a screen idol. She was thirty yet felt as though she was seventeen. She counted back to when she had last seen him and realised it must have been sixteen or seventeen years ago and yes, she would have been about thirteen or fourteen. Even then, when he was a couple of years older than her she had wanted to know him, but her parents kept them apart. She didn’t know why then although her father often talked of him; the knowing came much later when she had given up hope of seeing him. She never understood why he did what he did, run away from home. Nobody knew where he had gone but both her mother and father thought he had come to no harm.

She had decanted him into the spare room and had undressed him, but he was almost dead on his feet so it had been quite an effort. Thinking back to this she heard the alarm go off in his room and got out of bed.

Bugger, bugger,bugger. The alarm was sounding almost louder than his cry.

You sound as though you’re rehearsing for a version of ‘Four Weddings and a Funeral, said Charlotte as she entered the room.

He shot up, felt for, and found the alarm. Who the hell are you? Where am I? He looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. He jumped out of bed, but found he was naked apart from his jockey shorts and his head was full of pounding hammers, his throat dry and his eyes pricking madly.

What am I doing here, why are you here and why that dammed alarm?

The pretty girl said: I am your saviour. I brought you home last night. You were paralytic! I put the alarm on because you kept saying you had an appointment with an angel with golden wings at ten.

Oh my god, where’s my jacket?

He spotted it across the back of a chair together with the rest of his clothes. He felt in the pocket and pulled out an embossed card. ‘Jakob, Smythe and Jakob’, what a bloody silly way to spell Smith. I once saw a TV thing with a woman called Bucket . . . what the hell am I going on about? I’m so sorry but where can I have a shower?

The girl pointed, openly laughing at him. First door on the left. Oh, I’m so glad you aren’t a normal stick in the mud. You never know with drunks. I’ll make some coffee.

He stared at her, still not knowing what was going on but bearing a monumental hangover, he took the direction she pointed to.

There’s a gown on the back of the door, it may be a bit small for you—then, in a small childish voice it’s all I got, mister, honest!

Now a totally puzzled Simon found the bathroom and stood for a few minutes under a hot shower before turning it to cold for a moment. As he came out, a hand shot round the door and threw in a fluffy bath towel. Coffee in five she called.

Fully dressed in a rather crumpled suit he went into the kitchen, led by the delicious aroma of freshly ground coffee. The girl still dressed in her robe was drinking her coffee. He sat and looked at her.

Would you mind answering some of my questions?

She studied him. He was attractive, very masculine with his ‘Rugby front forward’ shoulders and rugged, tanned face. This was the mystery man she had been longing to see for almost as long as she remembered. First, drink that glass of hangover mixture, I made it myself, it always works for me. Then you can drink your coffee. She studied him further. I put you in my spare room, you were so drunk She studied him—What a lovely tan you have, you make me jealous.

Frustrated by her evasiveness he said shortly America. Now tell me why I’m here, wherever ‘here’ is? He drank the Bloody Mary quickly, noting the strong taste of the sauce.

You really have forgotten, haven’t you? You had flown in for your parents’ funeral wake where the family tried to get to know you. Some family we have, most didn’t seem to want to and as far as I could see, resented you, though that didn’t stop them toadying up to you. I thought you needed someone on your side so I began to take care of you. She laughed, It was no trouble; believe me, once you got going on the booze. I don’t think the family approved and were delighted when I said I’d see you to your hotel though my Uncle James called ‘Gold Digger’ in a loud voice. I didn’t know which hotel you’d booked so I brought you here. She giggled. You were no risk, more’s the pity! You could hardly stand up and kept talking about the angel with golden wings singing at ten so I set the alarm to give you time to recover.

Well, thank you for your good deeds but where do you fit in the family picture or did you tell me last night and I’ve forgotten?

I’m a cousin, but as your family all knew little of London they asked me to find somewhere for a reception, and to arrange on a car to meet you. I didn’t know whether you had made hotel arrangements and you couldn’t tell me last night so I brought you home, though ‘the family’ don’t know that. I told them I was taking you to your hotel. She smiled at him. Did you mind? Now, while you have your coffee I’ll have a shower and get dressed.

How do I get to this Jacob place?

Don’t worry, I’ll run your there in the car. Won’t be a tick.

He drank his coffee, rather bewildered by all that was happening. He’d had a call in America, telling him his parents had both been killed in a coach crash. He was devastated but relieved to find a first class air ticket mailed to him to return home. Then, last night he ‘met the family’ . . . He could only vaguely remember the previous night as a wake but knew that most of the faces were strange to him and unwelcoming. There was his sister, but she was a lot older than him and he had only faint recollections of her always shouting at him to ‘hurry up’ in petulant tones. Apparently his parents, whom he hadn’t seen for very many years—ever since he had refused to go to university and they had disowned him—had died in a coach crash in Europe. Thus this so called party or wake. He was feeling full of guilt and unhappy and unwanted so took relief in the bottle.

The girl returned, looking very attractive in a beige dress which matched her golden locks to perfection. What do I call you? he asked.

Apart from ‘money grabbing witch’ you mean? You can call me Charlie, with an i.e., it’s much nicer than Charlotte.

Charlie, Charlottte . . . he paused. I’m sure I heard of you in the past. Are you also invited to this jamboree?

No, I’m just ‘Mr. Fixit.’

Not this time. You shall be my interpreter. I’ve been so long out of England that I need someone to explain the language difficulties, the difference between a boot and a trunk for instance!

The little girl voice came back Oh sir, do you think I could. Your family might not like it!

Fuck the family. Oh, sorry, that slipped out.

Thank you, Simon. I am longing to see what so upset the family. Come on. We’d better go.

They were late in getting to the solicitor’s office by five minutes, partly due to the traffic and then to finding a parking place, the visitors car park being filled. The secretary showed them into a large office with what seemed like a lot people. In fact there were nine as well as the solicitor, a kindly looking florid man to whom Simon apologised for their lateness. The secretary brought in another chair for Charlie that Simon moved alongside that reserved for him. There were mutterings from the gathering—‘he’ll be late for his own funeral’ etc. and Simon looked round to see who spoke. It was a little grey haired man whom Simon vaguely remembered as an uncle only seen at Christmas. He turned back and sat down.

The solicitor beamed at everyone, showing no acknowledgement of the aura of hostility that had greeted his latest addition to the gathering. Now we may begin. It is a sad time for me who knew both the deceased very well as clients and as personal friends. They both left wills but I will deal with your father’s first He beamed at Simon. The major bequests. To my daughter Phoebe I leave my house with the exception of those particular items mentioned below. Maintenance of the house will be taken care of by my wife who will live there as long as she outlives me. To my wife I leave five hundred thousand pounds, enough to see her safely free of financial worries as long as she lives. The rest of my estate held in bank vaults, shares and certificates I bequeath to my son in recognition of what I was too slow to appreciate: his honesty and refusal to become yet another cipher in the machinery of politics and business. He chose to go his own way with never a request for help or assistance. I am proud of him.

The solicitor beamed round at the others There are various minor sums bequeathed, mainly to servants and relatives. He then rattled off a number of names, mostly unknown to Simon with generous gifts to each.

Simon sank in his chair, tears running down his face at this final admission from his father. He had not cried for a very long time and tried to hide his face as the other bequests of pictures and furniture were made known.

The solicitor had not finished. Now there is the matter of your mother’s will.

He picked up the scroll and untied the red ribbon to unroll the document before him. He began to read.

To my daughter Phoebe I leave my jewellery, and any personal belongings she might wish to keep together with my personal fortune, such as it is to help defray the costs of maintaining the house. I doubt that my son Simon would want to live there but he may choose to help with expenses. That is a matter for my daughter to resolve herself. To my son I leave the portrait of your father and I made at my request in the hope that you will forgive us for doubting you. I also offer a gift you just may appreciate, my enduring love and respect for you.

Simon got up and dashed from the room to seek some fresh air. He took a walk around the block, in no hurry to return. As he rounded the corner he saw his ‘family’ getting into their various motors and heard someone say Selfish bastard. Leaves home yet gets all the money. Poor Phoebe, left with that great mausoleum to look after.

He waited until almost all of the cars had departed only to be met by his sister who said I shall expect you to contribute, you know. He was dumbstruck. She made no mention of her parents or their loss. He pushed past her without answering and returned to the office. Charlie was still there as he sat down and apologized. What does it mean? He asked. Does Pheobe get what Father left for mother, a half million?

That is my reading of the situation; yes I think that would be the case.

Then she should be in a position to carry out any repairs, surely. Repairs to the house, I mean. She has just told me I should contribute!

I expect it will cost a lot to make everything good but your father did not want to waste money on a house that neither he nor your mother liked. They only kept it for your sister.

Oh, I see, and why wasn’t Charlie mentioned?

Charlotte gets her mother’s not ungenerous bequest from your father. It would seem he had a high regard for her mother.

Charlie turned to Simon Don’t you dare think that means he bedded her. She was a decent person and a lovely mother.

Good Heavens, I never knew your mother—I’m sure I never met her though I must have done—an aunt, so why should I think I’ll of her. If she was anything like you she must have been a saint!

Oh! She started to cry.

Shall I send for a pot of tea, asked the smiling solicitor. It seems we all want cheering up. And may I add my congratulations, sir on your good fortune. He looked at Charlie who had her head on Simons shoulder and was crying with great sobs. Yes, sir, it seems your very good fortune. Charlotte’s mother would have been very pleased that you two had met.

He picked up the phone and as they settled back his secretary returned with tea.

He explained that probate had gone through while Simon was returning from America and that Simon could now rightfully lay hands on a fortune of several million pounds. At the moment I have employed a financial advisor to take care of your fortune. Your cousin Peter, who was not here today did offer but on examining his antecedents I decided it would be better for control to be kept away from, er—your family until you returned. If you like I can arrange a meeting between you and the man I employed and you can decide whether I have done the right thing.

Mr Jakob, you were apparently a friend of my parents and that is fine by me. I hope you will continue to handle affairs on my account and of course I would like to meet this accountant. What is his name?

Tenderdon, Sam Tenderdon. I will arrange a meeting. Where are you staying?

He’s staying with me ‘till he finds somewhere. said Charlie forcibly. Simon shook his head.

I don’t think that would be a good idea. No, I shall find a hotel. All my clothes are in a locker at the station and I need a change. If Charlie will help me find somewhere suitable . . .

If you won’t stay with me, then how about you stay at the Hylton?

Don’t be silly. I’m not paying their prices. I want somewhere quiet and reasonably priced. I can eat out if the food there is bad.

Simon, you can afford the Hylton now

No! He said forcibly.

If I may suggest sir, one of my clients runs a hotel in Southgate. It’s North London and you might not like that but it is very nice and is in its own secluded grounds.

Hey, that sounds fine. What do you think, d’you know Southgate? He asked Charlie.

I guess I can find it, somewhere near Palmer’s Green. Yes, I’ll find it but you’re welcome to stay with me!

He smiled at her. You are far too much of a temptation and I have a reputation as a bit of a bounder! You’d regret it! I’m not drunk every night. He turned and explained to the solicitor what had happened. I don’t think my family were too pleased with me or the will reading, I got very drunk last night he added.

They will get over it sir, but your sister will have a problem with the house. It really needs many thousands to put to rights.

Really, then she can sell it. I have no interest in it at all. Now, I have taken up enough of your time so I’ll ask Charlie here to find this hotel. What’s it called?

He told them and they left.

Can we go to the station first to get my cases? He asked Or have you got to go to work. I’m sorry but I should have asked you before. I am just making use of you

No, it’s alright. Besides, I’m curious to see how you get on. How does it feel to be a multi-millionaire?

I really don’t know. I haven’t even got a bank account here, only the money I brought over with me.

We’ll fix that when you get to this dump in Southgate.

Dump?

No, that’s not fair. It’s probably super but a long way out in the sticks.

I shan’t stay there long, just until I can buy a place of my own. I say, you wouldn’t like to help me, would you?

Love to. I’d have crowned you if you hadn’t asked. Now here’s the station. I’ll stay with the car but don’t take long or they’ll book me.

He soon recovered his cases. He was travelling light and would have to buy more clothes; it was much cooler than in the States. He stopped at a kiosk and bought a large box of chocolates.

Good, now for the North she said. Oh goody, thank you. Chocolate I could die for. I shall have to buy a nice kinky corset to keep my tummy in. You can help me select a nice Victorian corset. How about that? she turned her head and smiled at him mischievously. It was obvious that the very idea amused him.

What colour? she asked with a giggle he was beginning to recognize.

I think scarlet for a scarlet woman. He retorted with a growl and watched her shiver with delight at the pleasantries that were flying between them. He wondered if she knew the effect it was having and if so, was it intended. He rather thought it was. ‘Just as well I was not staying with her,’ he thought. She described the lanes they passed through. Stevie Smith lived not far from here she said. I had to do her ‘Drowning, not swimming for my school cert."

Wasn’t it ‘swimming, not drowning’? He asked and they both laughed.

This was Chesterton country, from here out to Hertfordshire. In his book of essays he wrote about the ‘Green Lanes’, among other things. An apologist for the Catholics,

He looked at her. Why do you talk so much and why give me an essay on geography and literature. Are you nervous?

She glanced across at him. Yes she said and stopped talking as she turned off left up a steep hill that soon had them in the village of Southgate. They stopped to ask the way and were almost immediately at the doors of a very nice building set back in private grounds.

The solicitor had done his job and they were expected.

Come this way, Sir, Madam. You may stay as long as you like. This is your room. There is a bottle of champagne with the compliments of the management and please ring if there is anything else you need. Dinner is from 7pm but please let us know if you are eating in. We are not a big hotel and it helps to know how many tables to set.

Simon looked at Charlie. Will you join me for dinner?

Here? she asked. Why not, it looks very nice.

He nodded at the manager, for it was he who had accompanied them. Shall we say seven thirty?

They looked round the room. It was beautifully furnished with ensuite facilities and twin beds. He smiled at Charlie as she tried pushing the beds together.

Are you intending to stay here tonight? He asked.

You should be so lucky! No, I must go home, I need new clothes for tomorrow. If you behave I may visit you and if I do you must take me shopping, but first, your money. Call the solicitor and see what you have to do.

He got hold of Jakob without difficulty and explained his problem and added that they liked the hotel he had recommended.

I am sorry, sir. You left so quickly there wasn’t time to fully brief you. If you go to the bank on the Green at Southgate and ask for the manager, I will transfer some money on your behalf. He will want to see your passport, that’s all and then he will give you a chequebook. I hope you don’t mind but I have arranged for Mr Tenderdon to visit you at your hotel at ten o’clock tomorrow, if that is satisfactory. This is his number if you need to contact him. He then gave Simon a phone number for Tenderdon and rang off.

Simon explained the arrangements to Charlie and she said they should go straight to the bank as they closed at three. Here there were no problems and he found he had a cheque book and natty folder and, most important of all, a credit of five thousand pounds. The manager told him that his bankcard would be sent to him in the next few days. Simon withdrew five hundred pounds and then Charlie insisted that he went with her to a lingerie shop.

I want a nightie, something by Victoria Secret, some undies and—do you sell corsets? I want a waspie, a half corset. My master will pay! she twinkled and Simon played along.

"Plenty of up lift with the corset, but nothing tarty with the underwear,