Читать книгу The Money Makers - Harry Bingham - Страница 20

George drove away from the little cluster of buildings. Once out of sight, he pulled out his Financial Times and put a line through another box. This was getting ridiculous. He’d try for another two weeks – three at most – then give it all up. Zack or Matthew could try to win their father’s fortune. He’d apply for a job stacking shelves. He’d make new friends, find new things to do. Maybe in time he’d go back to school and get some exam results and a proper job. He’d live the way most people lived. But for now he’d go on trying, just a little longer.

He looked back at his newspaper. Next on the list was Gissings, based in the village of Sawley Bridge up near Ilkley in Yorkshire. He phoned a number and was put through to somebody who put him through to somebody else. George explained his interest and asked if there were any documents he could have a look at. Yes, there were documents. Would he like them posted? Yes, please, said George, but it wasn’t convenient to post them to his business address at present. Perhaps they could send them to the hotel he’d be staying at – The Devonshire Arms near Skipton. That was fine. They’d send the documents out right away. Did he want to make an appointment for a site visit now? No, that was fine, he’d look through the documents first.

George switched his phone off. He was headed north anyway to view some Scottish outfit, a long shot. He’d pass by the Devonshire Arms, apologise for changing his plans and pick up the documents from a mystified receptionist. He was getting good at doing that. Just like he was getting pretty good at keeping himself pretty much respectable while living mostly in a two-seater Lotus Esprit with an engine capacity bigger than its luggage hold.

He looked back at the ad. Gissings, eh? He didn’t feel hopeful, but he didn’t feel ready to stack shelves either.

He drove off, wearily.