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?Don’t speak with your mouth full,” said Molly. “We’re going to Majorca.”
Joe wanted to ask “Where’s that?,” but was rescued by Janet, who asked the same question.
“It’s an island in the Mediterranean, which not many people from Barnsford will have heard of, and are even more unlikely to visit,” which seemed to silence all three of them.
Joe and Molly always took their holiday in the zoo’s quietest fortnight of the year, and as the day approached, the children became more and more excited, because it would be their first trip on a plane. Joe’s and Molly’s too, come to that, but they didn’t mention it.
To do Joe justice, it was his idea to employ a bright university student, preferably an immigrant, to cover for him whenever he was away on holiday. He always paid the lad in cash, and although he didn’t make much of a profit during that fortnight, the regulars were kept happy, and there were never any questions about why the car park wasn’t manned.
“And if anyone asks where I am,” said Joe, “just tell them I’m on holiday with the family in Blackpool.”
Once the family arrived in Majorca, Molly didn’t waste any time. While Joe took the children to the beach, she visited every estate agent in Palma. When they got back on the plane a fortnight later, Joe had put on half a stone, the children were nut brown, and Molly had put down a deposit on a front-line plot in Puerto de Pollença, overlooking the sea.
The estate agent made no comment when she signed the contract and handed over the £5,000 deposit in cash. By the time they’d visited Majorca six times, the land belonged to them.
Molly then set about looking for a local architect. She chose a German, much to Joe’s disapproval, who also didn’t raise an eyebrow when his quarterly payments were made in cash.
A year later, a JCB rolled onto the site, and the builder licked his lips when rolls of twenty-pound notes changed hands on a regular basis, even if the project manager found Molly a bit of a handful.
So while Joe and Molly continued to live a frugal existence in Barnsford, with Joe’s only extravagance a season ticket for Barnsford Rovers, who still languished in the bottom half of the third division, Molly did allow herself the occasional visit to The Smoke to see the latest musical and have an Indian curry at Veeraswamy. But they always traveled back to Barnsford second class in case anyone spotted them. However, during the summer holidays, the family could always be found residing in their luxury villa overlooking the sea in the Bay of Pollença.
* * *
When Joe’s father retired at the age of sixty, Joe sent his mum and dad for a cruise on the QE2, explaining that they’d had a little win on the Premium Bonds. And two years later, when the zoo had an appeal for a new elephant house, the manager (Joe’s fifth) was delighted when they received an anonymous donation of £10,000, but was just a little surprised that it arrived in a large brown paper bag.
Joe was particularly proud when Joe Jr. was offered a place at Leeds University to study law, another first for the Simpson family, but Janet trumped her brother two years later when she won a scholarship to read English at Durham.
“What are we going to do when the time comes for us to retire?” asked Joe, aware that Molly would have already given the problem some considerable thought.
“We’ll go and live in Majorca and, to quote the good Lord, enjoy the fruits of our labor.”
“But what about my car park?”
“You can leave someone else to worry about that.”
* * *
Being a conventional sort of chap, Joe also retired on his sixtieth birthday, and after handing back the keys of their council house, he and Molly packed up everything they needed (very little), and headed for the airport with two one-way tickets.
It wasn’t long before Joe became a vice president of Real Mallorca, who were at least in the top half of the second division, and deputy chairman of the local Rotary Club, while Molly became honorary treasurer of the residents’ association.
Joe Jr. was now a practicing barrister on the northern circuit, while Janet taught English at Roundhay grammar school. They both paid regular visits to their parents in Majorca, accompanied by Charlie, Rachel, and Joe very Jr., who Joe and Molly adored.
* * *
“Have you seen what they’ve done with my car park?” said Joe one evening, after reading his weekly copy of the Yorkshire Post. “Daft pillocks,” he said as he continued to read the article.
On January 2, the new manager of the zoo, a Mr. Braithwaite, called the estates department at Barnsford City Council, to ask when Joe Simpson’s replacement would be reporting for work.
“Who’s Joe Simpson?” the estates manager asked.
“He’s the man who ran the car park opposite the zoo. Has done for the past forty years. We even gave him a farewell party.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the estates manager, “I always assumed you owned the land.”
“But we thought you did!” said Braithwaite.
“Daft pillocks,” repeated Joe as he put down his paper and joined Molly in the kitchen. “If manager ’ad bin half awake, he’d ’ave kept his mouth shut, and only the zoo would have benefited,” he told his wife, “which is what I’d always wanted. But no, he had to consult council chairman, Alderman Appleyard, who thought they should take legal advice, which has ended up with a lengthy court battle between Barnsford City Council and the zoo. Result? Both sides lost out, while weeds are sprouting up all over my car park.”
