From the taxi I phoned Liz. "Liz, are you alone?"
"Rosemary's with me."
"Scuttle. We need the mobile phone numbers of everyone at the house."
"Will do. Anything else?"
"No. See you."
The man was cleaning his car again as I paid off the taxi at the lock up.
"What, no furniture moving?" he asked.
"Bloody van broke down."
"Never rains but it pours. Sorry mate."
Back in the office, Betty said, "Are you sleeping rough somewhere? Your suits seem to be getting rumpled."
"Doing lots of travelling."
"One urgent item. Ellen's finished the Doncaster quotation. She said you need a letter to go with it explaining the price. She's written a draft, but she's had to rush off. Something about child minders and washing machines. It didn't make much sense to me, but Ellen wasn't for explaining."
I sighed, "OK. I'll do that and put it in the post. I'll get Liz to sign the estimate tonight. Anything else?"
"No, I shall love you and leave you."
I buckled down to refining Ellen's draft.
The office quietened, and then I heard Liz's determined pace approaching, with Rosemary's lighter step.
We sat around my desk.
Liz said "We have enough data for Rosemary to start modelling, but we're still no nearer to finding out what the loose sum is from Foot's people. I want to take Rosemary into our confidence, but not without you."
"OK by me. Rosemary will respect any confidence you give her."
Liz said, "To cut a long story short, Rosemary, that cost you've identified is the cost of running a sophisticated entertainment centre serving clients and directors. We will close it down soon. We should then be able to save other costs. There's no point in starting the modelling until the matter is resolved. I didn't want you wasting your great talent and time on bum information. I have too much respect your skills."
Rosemary smiled triumphantly, "Railton House, Evelyn Tarrant, Maggie Stenson, Steven Rampling and Ellen Potts part time, and Phillipe Lancombe. But those costs are accounted, what's all the rest? Slush fund and undeclared consumables?"
"Probably," I said, "I must admit when you flushed the figure out I was appalled."
"Well thanks for telling me, and not wasting my time. So you're going to close it?"
"Yes, but you're not to tell anyone about this. Only Graham and his - um - team, Sir William Ogilvy at Waterloo House and me know about that intention."
"OK. Can I go now, or do you need a lift?" asked Rosemary.
"No, Graham will do the taxi run."
"Thanks Liz, it's been an interesting week."
Rosemary closed the door.
"You look slightly scruffy, Graham," Liz said, with a smile.
"It's this changing in the lock up. I really need a coat stand. I'll dress properly for dinner."
"Telephone numbers. They were in Foot's directory. We cross checked in the accounts office, they're used to Rosemary and me poking about, and found one more. That was Eve's. She is ex-directory. Why do you need them?"
"I want to isolate Railton House from the police. We can cut the land-line, that's simple. But the mobiles are a problem. I thought we'd put a little programme into our system here, and get someone to initiate it when we call from the helicopter. Then all the portables will be dialled simultaneously. That'll cause enough confusion. If anyone answers all they'll get is a tone."
"Can you guarantee four lines free on your system?"
"With a priority override. Someone may be upset temporarily that's all. I'll put a warning on the network for that morning."
"Who will you get to do it?"
"How do you view Wendy?" I asked.
"Very sound. I want to keep her. The personnel officer at Foot is a wanker."
"He obviously upset you."
"She."
"Wendy would do it for us, and not ask questions."
"OK with me. How do you cut the landline without causing an outcry."
"We are the proud owners of a genuine BT van, and some not so genuine overalls."
"Graham are you collecting vans?"
I laughed. "No, I traded the Transit in. It was much too comfortable. This one really makes you feel you're having a hard time."
"Now, Graham, what else must we do before dinner? I want a swim. Then I could murder a big steak, and a bottle of good red wine. Railton House may be sophisticated but their work offices are mean."
I said, "You have to agree an estimate of extra cost for your mate Carlton."
"I'll stay for that. I hope it's lots and lots of money."
"Oh, it surely is."
We finished going through the estimate.
I wrapped up the offer with my letter, and put it on the scales of the franking machine.
Liz said, "Damn, we've missed our swim. They close the pool at eight. Right you're getting up early and having one before breakfast."
"Is this some conspiracy you've hatched between you and Ruth?"
"No. Why?"
"She says if - when - we get together she'll have me exercising, doing what I don't know."
Liz sighed, "I'm sure she'll think of something."
At breakfast next morning Liz asked, "How are we going to join Sir William's helicopter?"
"I plan to pick it up at the Doncaster site."
"Good. I'd like to meet Steve again. So what are you doing this fine Saturday?"
"Another look at Railton House, particularly to find where to cut the telephone lines, and timing a run from Catterick to Railton House."
"Right, I'll see you Monday, Graham, at about eleven at York Office."
Mandy cautiously drove the BT van, with Ruth and Pat and herself clad in the grey overalls. I was in the box in the back, talking to Ruth via the WT. There were three cables to the house joined at a pole near the gateway. Ruth said, "I thought,you said there was an internet and a fax, that only leaves one phone line. That seems rather limited."
"You get two telephone lines in each of those cables."
The cable then ran protected by a thin galvanised steel cover down to the ground.
We moved on. "Good blow with a sharp axe at the cable on the side of the post. I'll bring one from Burnley."
I displaced Pat into the box. Ruth drove and we tied the Catterick run down to thirty minutes. I said, "It's too long to have the chopper hanging about. We'll have to find a place nearer Railton House."
We found a minor road dead-ended by the upgrading of the Al. Trucks roared by, ten feet above and twenty feet to the right of us. Ruth's face was flushed from the effort of making the four point turn in the narrow road with the heavy unassisted steering.
"Remember to park this side so we can see you from above, those trees overhang a bit."
We went back to the caravan.
"Damn," I said, "I'm not used to such a slow vehicle. I was hoping to get to Burnley before five to see if I can rustle up an Estate Agent. I thought we'd finish by two. It's half past three."
"There isn't such a rush, is there, sweetheart?" asked Ruth.
"I feel the tie of it pulls me back from starting a new life."
"Whatever you're happiest with. It's just I see you have a lot on, and you're adding to it because of a subtle pressure from what is between us. What's happened about the house clearance?"
Unthinkingly I said "There's someone coming at four tomorrow. Oh shit. I wasn't supposed to say."
Ruth laughed and took my hands. "Dearest, I've known ever since Thursday. Why don't you stop rushing round the countryside and stay here tonight with me, and then we'll drive to Burnley tomorrow."
"Oh God, sleeping bags again," said Pat.
Amanda said, "She's joking. Please stay. It makes Ruth so much easier to live with.
"I'll ring the hotel, so they don't think I've done a runner. I'd love to stay."
The four of us made supper and had the red wine that was still in the boot of the car and had been intended for Ruth anyway. The girls left us after a few games of solo.
After our lovemaking Ruth hugged me and whispered. "You know why this has been such a good week?"
"Try me."
"We've been together nearly every day, and we've been working on something we both want to do. We haven't had stress between us."
"You're right. Living together will be so good if we can solve this lifestyle thing. We will somehow, dearest."
In the morning I drove to York to sort out the hotel room, and my clothing, and, picking Ruth up on the way back, carried on to Burnley.
Whilst we waited I showed Claire's jewellery to Ruth. She chose from it a heavy bracelet for Amanda and a Peruvian god pendant carved in green malachite for Pat.
"Keep the rest as a memory, pet," said Ruth, "Put it in a Bank until you can live with it again."
"Would you keep it for me?"
"If that's what you want. Of course."
Joe Mingan arrived at two and having heard the cars run, made an offer. We agreed ECA Classics would collect the cars in two weeks time on Monday.
Joan Davenport came in an old but clean Ford Escort, introduced herself at the front door and waited to be invited in. She was small, thickset, humorous and kindly.
In her Lancashire mill-town accent, she said, "This is bad for you, and after Wagstaff even worse. I'm going to have to check with you what you really want to sell. So I'm afraid I'm going to drag you round the house again. I'm glad you have someone with you."
She was quiet, didn't push or argue, and treated our things with respect.
We sat in the kitchen with coffee, and she tapped on her calculator. "I'll be honest Mr Wisheart, the furniture won't realise very much. It's been designed with your particular needs and the rooms in mind.
"Right. Now, you have a stamp collection, a coin collection and model cars which I'm not qualified to value. I'd dispose of them for you to specialists at a 15% fee of the selling price. So the price I'm quoting excludes those three items, and allows for a skip to deal with the real rubbish.
"One more thing. Are you likely to be famous?"
"Me?" I laughed, "I doubt it very much. Engineers rarely achieve fame. The days of Brunel are long gone."
"Even so I'd keep the papers on the landing if you can find a place to store them. Try these people. They'll store anything else as well." She wrote a name on the back of a business card. "It's amazing how papers and records can rise in value as the years go by. So my valuation excludes those too.
"I'll give you fifteen hundred pounds for the list I've described."
Good God I thought, we'd both worked twenty years and the environment we created was worth one and a half thousand quid. What had we spent all that salary we'd earnt on? Food, fuel, drink, the mortgage, insurances, the odd holiday - not many of those.
"Mr Wisheart?" she asked gently.
"Sorry. It seems such a little for a lot of years working like two mad things, and all the effort we put into making what you see around you."
"I'm afraid it's always the same unless you buy antiques from the start. You wanted to create a unique environment, and it's a lovely house, but it's your thing. Not marketable."
"OK, Mrs Davenport. I accept the offer, what happens next?"
"We agree a day, and we strip it out under your supervision."
"Next Saturday?"
"We'd prefer a weekday."
"Friday?"
"Yes. Look we'll confirm this in writing. And if you can bring Ms Howard with you so much the better. If you think this has been bad, it's terrible when you see us putting stuff in our van or worse still a skip. Should I write to you here?"
"No, better send it to my office in York."
I gave her a card.
She left with a gentle good-bye and a warm sympathetic handshake for us both.
"She was nice," said Ruth.
"Yes, I felt that she respected our home."
"But you still feel betrayed by a system that places so little value on your creations, don't you?"
I nodded, suddenly close to tears, made afraid by the dismantling of the fabric of twenty years of my life. Ruth wrapped me in her warmth.
"Come, dear, be brave. Let's go."
I'll just pick up the post, and take you back. I must be in York prompt in the morning so I'll stay in the hotel tonight."
"Have supper with us. Oh and we need the axe."
"Oh, yes. Well remembered."
“Oh, by the way love,” I said as we drove,” I've been thinking about what you said yesterday. Can you put in the GPO van some respectable clothes for you three when we do the raid. We need to look like convincingly like company people who have taken over the enterprise.”
“So you took me seriously then?”
“You know I do. You don't need me to tell you that.”
“True.” She grinned at me.
In the office on Monday morning I typed the plan into the lap top, as modified by what we'd learnt on Saturday.
"What is this, Graham?" Betty asked, seeing a map of England spread out for planning the helicopter flight, and the large scale map surrounding Northallerton.
"I can't tell you yet Betty. I will later, I promise."
I telephoned City Centre Airways.
Robert Devlin, the helicopter pilot said in a quiet steady voice, "I'm going to be in Leeds airport at three today. If you could meet me there we could have two hours together. Book a conference room at the Airway Hotel. I'll wait in reception. I seem to remember you told me to get going from your site."
"Sorry about that, but I was a bit uptight."
"No problem - you weren't rude. The passenger was, very."
"Right, see you."
I took the maps, the lap top and a small portable printer to Leeds.
At the end of our meeting I retyped the plan for the helicopter and gave it to him.
I returned to the office at six. Liz was there.
"Graham, I thought we were giving Sir William the plan today," she said sharply.
"It was more difficult to get together than I thought."
Impatience still edged her voice, "OK. Is it ready now? I talked to him earlier and he said ring him at home with it."
"Yes. That's a blow by blow account."
"Oh, five sheets of typed A4. I apologise. I didn't think it would be so involved. Thank goodness he has a fax at home."
We sent the plan to Sir William, at six thirty. Liz read through a copy.
At seven he rang the office. Liz picked the phone up, and switched the speaker on.
Sir William's firm positive voice said, "It looks a good plan to me. I have one doubt. You're assuming that our quarry won't try to resist physically. You may be right. But I think you'd be wise to have some plastic ties like the police use. And I'd make the two guns shown overtly, not just held in reserve. I perceive this lot will be more desperate and likely to take risks than you think. If I'm wrong there's nothing lost. You've assumed that they will be reasoned with. They will eventually, but their first reaction will be panic and fight."
"That's my fault," I said, "Graham here. I had worry about our being subsequently sued for assault."
"I don't think that's likely. Unless you think the evidence will have gone."
"Unlikely. Right I accept your advice. Do you want a refax of the final version?"
"No. It's a good plan, and clearly lays down what I'm needed to say and do, and I think those are fine. Liz you will draw up the documents that have to be signed?"
"Yes, Sir William."
I drew a pack of long electrician's nylon cable ties from the stores.
On Tuesday, Liz with her hair in a scarf and in jeans and floppy pullover came with me to Ruth's caravan and we five became word perfect with the plan. I left one of the site walkie talkies and a spare charged battery with Ruth, and checked the fluids and tyres of the BT van.
We wished each other good luck.
Back at the office we briefed Wendy and programmed the computer to phone the mobiles. Liz and I stayed that night at the Sparrow Hawk near the Doncaster site, and we had an evening with Steve and Marjorie, and then went to bed early, having briefed Steve about the helicopter pick up, but nothing else. I think he was put out by my reluctance to share with him something that obviously preoccupied me greatly. We rarely had secrets from one another.
I rang Ruth just before I slept. "Nervous?" she asked.
"Of course." I said.
"Me too. It'll go as soon as we're in the building. But not until."
"Everything all clear and prepared? The girls?"
"Yes. All set."
"Lots of luck dearest. I love you."
"Same to you. Love you too."
I carefully put the phone, the video camera, and the walkie talkie on charge.
Sleep eluded me. I daren't have a drink. I wanted an absolutely clear head in the morning. I rehearsed and re-rehearsed the plan in my mind. Eventually I fell asleep.
I was in the thrashing clatter of the helicopter.
"Go,Ruth, Go." I shouted into the WT.
I saw a puff of black smoke as the BT box-van started. My dearest three were in that silver-grey van with the diagonal red cross on the roof. I saw the machine flitting in and out of the dappled shade made by spring-green trees, the sun winking on the aluminium roof. From nowhere appeared an articulated petrol-tanker bellowing its way down the road at an appalling speed, closing rapidly on the small van. I heard the two tone airhorn blare, but it was too late for Ruth and Pat and Amanda. My throat locked, unable to utter a sound to tell them to go faster. I beat my fists on the concave transparent plastic of the helicopter as the tanker jacknifed to embrace the glittering silver casket in a holocaust of roaring orange flames and thick black smoke. I could hear the screams of my dear ones, and the bells of fire engines, which transmuted to the alarm clock, as I woke in a fever of sweat on the Wednesday morning.