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“Retirement?” said Bob, ignoring Seb’s comment. “I’d die rather than retire. And as for enjoying myself, I wasn’t built for leisure, so perhaps you can tell me, Seb, how I’m supposed to pass the time of day?”
“Perhaps the occasional round of golf, followed by a long lunch at one of the many Michelin-starred restaurants along the Riviera, topped off by a visit to one of Nice’s more exotic nightclubs?”
“And where will I find a pint of Bateman’s, and cod and chips served in newspaper?”
“I don’t think you’ll find too many fish and chip shops at Cap Ferrat,” admitted Seb.
“And there’s not much demand for mushy peas on the Riviera,” added Clive.
The three of them burst out laughing.
“I feel sorry for your mother, Clive,” said Bob. “She’s about to discover just how close a friend Lady Virginia Fenwick really is.”
* * *
“Well, at least this time, major, you’ll be chairman of a company that doesn’t have a board, or anyone else you have to answer to. You can start with a blank sheet of paper and set your own ground rules.”
“Possibly. But you will have noticed that the company’s shares collapsed yesterday following Bingham’s press statement.”
“What statement?” said Virginia.
Fisher picked up a copy of the Times from the coffee table and turned to the lead story in the business section. Virginia stared at a photograph of Bob shaking hands with some members of the factory staff following his farewell speech, then carefully read his statement: “Of course I’m sad to be leaving the company my grandfather founded in 1857, especially after serving as its chairman for the past twenty-three years. But I have no fear for the future of Bingham’s while it’s in the capable hands of my former wife, Priscilla. I hope everyone will continue to support her, as they have always supported me. However, it’s time for me to retire to my beautiful home in the South of France and enjoy a well-earned rest.”
“I don’t believe a word of it,” said Virginia. “So the sooner you get yourself off to Grimsby, the better, major. It’s going to take all your skills and experience as an army officer to keep those people in their place.”
* * *
When Clive drove his father to Heathrow later that evening, he couldn’t get a word out of him.
“What’s the problem, Dad?” he asked eventually.
“Some of the staff were in tears when I left. People I’ve worked with for over twenty years. It took all my willpower not to roll up my sleeves and start loading the lorries.”
“I understand how you feel, Dad, but believe me, you’ve made the right decision.”
“I hope so,” said Bob, as they came to a halt outside the terminal.
“And don’t forget, if you spot a photographer, just smile and look relaxed. We don’t want the press thinking you’re unhappy, because then Lady Virginia will work out exactly what we’re up to.”
“I’ll bet she already has.”
“Dad, we can beat her, as long as you don’t lose your nerve.”
“Please make my imprisonment as short as possible,” he pleaded after he’d checked his one bag in and given his son a hug.
“I’ll phone every day,” said Clive, “and bring you up to date with everything that’s going on at this end.”
“And keep an eye on your mother. It’s going to come as a dreadful shock when she meets up with the real Virginia for the first time.”
* * *
By the time the major stepped on to the platform at Grimsby station, he knew exactly what needed to be done. His plan was foolproof, and his strategy honed to the finest detail.
He already knew a great deal about Robert Bingham and the way he had run the company from the research he’d carried out for Lady Virginia. And on this occasion she hadn’t even tried to bargain with him. She had met all his demands: £20,000 a year plus expenses, including a suite of rooms at the Royal Hotel whenever he had to stay in Grimsby.
Fisher felt there wasn’t a moment to lose and instructed the taxi driver to take him straight to the factory. During the journey he went over the speech he’d prepared, which wouldn’t leave the workers in any doubt who was the boss. It shouldn’t be too difficult to run a fish-paste factory. After all, he’d commanded a company in Tobruk with the Germans snapping at his heels.
The taxi dropped him outside the factory. A scruffy man wearing a peaked cap, open-necked shirt, and greasy overalls peered at the major from the other side of the locked gates.
