Читать книгу The Fund - Jeff Edwards - Страница 8

A slight spring breeze fluttered across the field, bringing with it the scent of the roses to the small group gathered on top of the hill. The roses were magnificent in their full bloom, and the breeze caused them to shimmer in the sunlight. Their colour was not unlike the yellow of the cut wheat stalks in the fields beyond the fieldstone fence.

The wind also carried with it the sounds of the workmen as they went about their preparations.

Suddenly, the throaty roar of a bulldozer drowned out all other sounds. The hiss of hydraulics and the clank of its caterpillar track now added to the din as the mighty blade was lowered to ground level and the heavy yellow monster moved forward.

Inching its way across the yard, the blade reached the first of the rose beds. The first healthy, upright plant was slowly pushed over and its blossoms ground into the dirt beneath the tracks of the machine. More plants followed as it plowed its way from one side of the yard to the other.

The group on the hillock overlooking the work site stood watching silently as the plants were crushed and destroyed.

Lana Reynolds was close to tears at the sight. She knew that as soon as the flowers, the beds and the blackened pile of bricks that were all that now remained of Mrs Green’s beloved house had been pushed into a pile, it would be dumped into trucks and carried away. And when all trace of Mrs Green’s house had been removed they would begin demolishing the home next door, the house that had, until recently, been hers.

‘Such a waste! Those beautiful flowers! They meant everything to her,’ Lana sighed.

Her husband Brian took her hand and gave it a squeeze of support.

‘Don’t worry, Lana,’ said Suzie Brown, standing on the other side of her. ‘The vicar took a number of them for his garden and some more for the churchyard. Toby also had a local nursery come down and take some as well. They’re going to cultivate them for us and we’ll have a good supply when it comes to recreating Mrs Green’s garden in the grounds of The Fund’s new headquarters.’

‘I know, but it seems to be such a great waste.’

The group of eight gathered here comprised the executive committee of The Fund, a charitable institution that was about to begin construction of a modern, multi-storey building to house their burgeoning organisation.

With the legacy bequeathed to them from the estate of the benevolent Mrs Green, and to a far lesser extent from the public donations, The Fund was in the process of undertaking infrastructure works projects in some of the poorest nations on earth. These projects were designed to improve the standard of living for the people as a whole and concentrated on supplying their basic needs. They were concentrating on providing a long-term drinkable water supply and the infrastructure, seed and education to grow basic foodstuffs. While other charitable foundations tended to look after the immediate needs of the poor, The Fund’s aim was to concentrate on long-term goals and trying to break the cycle of poverty that many poorer nations found themselves locked into.

Justine Small, the self-elected Chairman of the Board of Directors of The Fund was carefully scrutinising the work below, calculating just how much the building would cost before all the work was done. She knew full well that money was not a problem to The Fund, but she was determined that she would keep an eye on the various contractors to ensure that there would be no padding of expenses.

Her sharp and calculating mind was in stark contrast to her obvious youthfulness and her amazing choice of exotic and colourful clothing. To anyone meeting her for the first time, Justine seemed naïve. That is until she started to talk when her deep intelligence became obvious.

In stark contrast, Eliza Strang, who stood beside her, was dressed entirely in black velvet, her flour white features offset by the numerous studs that pierced her body. The same age as Justine, Eliza’s skills were in the IT field while her ability to ‘acquire’ goods had enabled the two young girls to turn what had been an entirely sham charity into a viable international organisation.

Ali Akuba stood towering over his wife, Nori, who was the only one of the original six legatees of Jade Green’s fortune that had never met the person who had changed all their lives so completely.

Almost as tall as Ali, Brian Reynolds stood with his arm around his beautiful wife’s shoulder. Lana, with her blonde hair and blue eyes, stood almost as tall as her husband and after shedding a tear or two was now studying the scene below with an artistic eye. Someday soon the events would become the topic of one of her paintings.

The newlyweds, Toby and Suzie Brown, stood holding hands and discussing some private matter in hushed tones that none of the other directors could hear.

The group went silent as the yellow monster completed its work and the last of Mrs Green’s roses ceased to exist.

‘The owner of the nursery told me that those roses are quite rare,’ said Toby Brown. ‘Mrs Green propagated the flower herself while she was in prison. They were named after her husband, Captain Robert Symes.’

‘Symes. I thought her married name was Green?’ said Ali.

‘No, her maiden name was Green. She simply didn’t bother to change it when she married. Apparently Robert Symes was killed in action during World War Two.’

‘She really was ahead of her time in a lot of ways.’

There was a loud crash as rubble from Mrs Green’s former residence was dumped into the back of an empty truck.

‘It’s sad to see it all going,’ said Lana Reynolds.

‘There was nothing left of Mrs Green’s house and ours would have cost too much to repair. Its basic structure has been too badly compromised,’ explained Brian.

‘I know,’ sighed Lana, ‘but it was our home. Now we’ll have to start all over again and we’ll never be able to find a house just like that one. The price of housing around Walton Village has skyrocketed since the developers moved in.’

Toby blushed. ‘As one of those developers, I accept the criticism, but it’s purely a matter of supply and demand. The public are clamouring to get their hands on the blocks and the prices reflect what they’re prepared to pay.’

‘Well, it certainly doesn’t help Brian and me,’ said Lana.

Brian interjected. ‘Actually, I have a proposal to put to the board, and seeing as how you’re all here, I’d like to ask if Lana and I can build a house on the The Fund’s property?’

Curious, Justine asked, ‘Where?’

‘Right where you’re standing.’

‘Here?’

‘Yes.’

The group looked around. The hillock had a clear view over the fields that The Fund had recently purchased. It was high enough to overlook the building site where The Fund’s offices would soon stand and then beyond to the horizon. Behind them on the hillock was a small stand of trees that dropped away to where a brook ran through a gully at the rear.

Lana could see the potential of the site purely from an artist’s viewpoint. She would love to have a studio up here to capture the light on the distant hills.

‘You wouldn’t mind being this close to work?’ asked Eliza Strang.

‘It might prove to be an advantage to have a board member this close,’ said Justine. ‘Does anyone have any objection?’

‘Not from me,’ said Toby.

‘Nor I,’ said Ali.

The others shook their heads.

‘Then it looks to be unanimous. Congratulations,’ smiled Justine.

Suzie looked around and then smiled at her husband. ‘Well, seeing as how the subject of houses is on the agenda. Toby and I have been living in my small flat since we returned from our honeymoon. We’re thinking of starting a family, so we’ll eventually need something bigger.’

‘Well, there’s plenty of room up here,’ said Brian.

‘All in favour say aye,’ said Justine.

A resounding round of ayes carried the motion.

Toby looked at Suzie. ‘Actually, I was considering a spot over the back of the hillock, down there closer to the brook. It would be wonderfully secluded and I’ll be able to plant a few apple trees. My supplies of apple juice have nearly dried up.’

‘And you figure you’ll need some of your magic potion to get the family started?’ asked Lana with a grin.

‘No way! We don’t need any help in that regard!’ laughed Suzie. ‘But it’ll be good to have a supply of the juice. It tastes wonderful. I recommend it.’

Justine turned to Ali. ‘Well, that’s Lana and Brian, and Suzie and Toby seen to. What about you and Nori?’

Ali and Nori exchanged glances. They had been married for so long that there was little need for debate. Nori said, ‘It will be a lot more difficult for us. There are no mosques out here. At least not yet. However, the thought of commuting to Walton Village every day would be difficult for us. If we were to live here it would be so much easier for us and with the security we’ll be setting up around the property’s perimeter it’ll be far safer for us out here than in the city. Our children will be safe and that is of prime importance to us. Yes, I think we could live here, if you’ll have us.’

‘There’s more than enough room for two houses up here,’ said Brian enthusiastically, ‘but what about the girls?’

‘I don’t need a house and I wouldn’t know what to do with one if I did,’ said Eliza.

‘The same goes for me,’ said Justine.

Toby had been giving it some thought. ‘What about an apartment?’

‘Where?’ asked Justine.

‘Inside the new building. The top floor will be given over to executive suites, but I’m sure we’ll be able to fit in a couple of apartments on the floor below. We’d probably have to include a couple in the plans for visiting overseas guests anyway.’

‘Living in a penthouse? I can just see myself,’ smiled Justine.

‘You’ll be sorry! She’s a messy bugger,’ said Eliza.

‘Oh I dare say we’ll be able to train her,’ said Lana. ‘What about you, Eliza?’

‘With Dad doing The Fund’s security, the whole family will probably have to move out to the village. I’ll stay with them, but you can set an apartment aside for me to use when I need to get some privacy. It’s awful crowded at home sometimes.’

‘Well, that’s settled. We’re all moving in.’

* * *

Brian Reynolds, Toby Brown and Ali Akuba each held in their possession a key. Each key was different and all three were required to be inserted and turned within seconds of each other to open the vault at The Fund’s current headquarters in the city. The vault was reputed to contain a treasure of far greater value than all the money left to The Fund by their benefactor, Mrs Green.

Rumour had it that the vault contained the videos of many high-placed citizens caught in compromising positions at the former brothel known as The Garden of Eros, a brothel that had been owned and operated by The Fund’s benefactor, Mrs Green.

The country’s intelligence services, acting upon orders direct from Prime Minister David Foster, had been able to confirm the existence of these legendary videos but had been unable to locate their current whereabouts. Even the vault had been searched, without success.

Now, with this explosive information in their possession The Fund was in a position to dictate to the leaders of several countries. However, the intentions of Mrs Green in making the bequest was that the power of the videos was not to be used for anything other than charitable works throughout the world and to right wrongdoings.

It was an idealistic endeavour, but at this early stage, not many projects of such high ideals had been undertaken because the members of The Fund were still feeling their way in the heady field of philanthropy.