The 'Cousins'

Part Fifty-Three : Greg at the Town Hall

Timeline: 0930 Friday 20th April Town Hall Courtyard

The chiming of the Town Hall Clock for nine–thirty captured Greg’s attention as he walked briskly towards the rear entrance of the building. He shielded his eyes against the glare of the sun as it rose over the roof above the clock perching like a big bird on top of the roof apex, all four faces sending its timely message to the four points of the compass.  He had reacted instinctively to the sound, which dazzled him for his endeavour. Greg stopped to press closed his watering eyes and aid the recovery of his assaulted eyesight. 

Once the images again focussed into recognisable shapes he noticed the red painted trailer on the other side of the yard together with the shape of a man in working clothes standing alongside the vehicle, watching Greg; the man's stance projected an attitude of intense displeasure. Greg’s sight had not recovered sufficiently for him to notice the man’s expression or the details of his dress or identity. The man stood watching Greg until he had mounted the steps and disappeared inside the building. He then emitted a long low whistle before resuming the wash down of the town’s fire tender, water tank and pump.

Greg was quite excited about starting his venture and moved briskly down the empty, cathedral like main corridor towards Miss Broekner’s office at the far end. 

He saw the mayor’s door was open as he passed and he looked in to say hello, but moved on when he saw the room was empty. His footsteps echoed from the tiled floor against the walls of the cavernous space as he strode to the secretary’s office.

He felt again that warm glow of contentment as the thought resurged that his small investments should have returned such rich rewards. He paused to savour the joy of that moment before knocking on the Secretary’s door. It was then he saw the notice pinned to the jamb, handwritten in a strong, upright hand in ‘business’ black ink. ‘BACK IN FIVE’

Greg removed the well-read magazines from one of the two ‘Shaker’ wooden chairs beyond the door and sat down to wait the return of Miss Broekner.

He leafed swiftly through the pages of an elderly National Geographic magazine before tossing it on the next chair to fold his arms across his chest and ruminate once more on his financial good fortune.

It seemed incredible to him that his relatively modest investments could yield such massive rewards in such a short period of time.  Bill Elbury had explained it to him as the ‘biggest engineered economic boom in history with nothing real backing it up.’  

Greg pressed his lips together and breathed heavily through his nose while he considered Bill’s opinion.  He had scoffed and accused the accountant of pessimism the first time that Bill had said this to him. Greg was beginning to think differently now after his small investments had magnified out of all sensible proportion. It was very nice for him, but he could now see things better from Bill’s viewpoint.  ‘How on earth could that happen and so quickly, not just at the boatyard, but the others deals as well, across the broad south of the country’s geography?’  Greg’s mind retuned again to that cramped and cluttered office where Elbury had claimed the whole economic boom of recent times was a farce. Wall Street and the Banks were gambling with futures, stocks and innovative financial instruments for their own gain every bit as much as the roulette wheels whirled in the  casinos of Las Vegas and Atlantic City; except the gambling houses were honest and open about it.  Greg suffered a small spasm of outrage as he pondered. ‘How otherwise could a stretch of swampy land, useless for agriculture, rise in value by 4000 per cent in only a few months, just because somebody in a City Hall somewhere had put in a bit of a road and a few drains and stamped a piece of paper saying it was now permitted to build on it?  It’s immoral.’