Читать книгу Legacy - Jeff Edwards - Страница 9

Acting like tourists, they booked themselves into the Station Hotel, named either because it was on the same square as the railway station or across the square from the police station.

They ate a leisurely meal as they watched the locals going about their day.

It was a typical country village. Most of the businesses faced either the square or the high street, with a few more located in side streets where they mingled with the homes of the villagers.

The barman said the town’s main point of interest for tourists was the Public Trust estate of Walton Abbey, on the north border of the village extending from one side of the village to the other, and to its the north, with its historical ruins and museum. He added the information that there were numerous small pubs scattered throughout the countryside that were popular with backpackers and walkers and drew their attention to the river they had crossed on their way into the village. He said it had been a dry ditch until recently when Toby Brown had paid to return it to its former state.

Bree’s ears pricked up at the sound of that name. Most of the documents were locked in her car, but a resume of the people of interest had been kept out for her to read on the way down. Brown was listed as one of the friends of Jade Green. It had been at his court case where she had first reappeared.

The barman was more than willing to pass the time of day talking and told them Toby Brown could usually be found in his new workshop. He gave them directions and recommended they call in to see his excellent carvings.

‘If Toby’s not there, Mrs Green will be able to help you. She’s there a lot now that Toby’s spending so much time with his fiancée, Suzie Ryan from the real estate agency.’

They followed the barman’s directions to a recently modernised and painted factory just off the main street.

The top floor was occupied by Grant & Associates, a firm of conservative lawyers who had practiced law in London for generations. This was their first attempt at opening a branch office. The company had decided to open it in a newly developing area to capture the upwardly mobile residents of the new housing estates that were taking over the area.

The metal roller doors of the factory’s ground floor had been replaced by plate glass, showing off an art gallery that occupied the interior. Tracked spot-lighting highlighted sculptures and paintings and shelves of smaller carvings.

Sam busily played tourist, photographing everything in sight. It would all be of assistance later on. Especially if they had to conduct a covert operation against the premises.

Bree entered the gallery and noted that, other than the works of art, the space contained just a small desk, with a swivel chair behind. On the desk was a telephone and small cash register.

‘I suppose that’s about all you’d need for a business this size,’ she thought. ‘They certainly run it on a shoestring budget,’

There were two other couples inside the gallery, each busy examining the works of art. One couple was being tended to by an elegant, elderly female who was enthusiastically showing them pieces, trying to whet their interest.

Sam finished taking photos of the exterior and joined Bree.

Raising the camera to his eye, he turned the lens to wide-angle and started taking shots of the interior.

‘So that’s the infamous Jade Green,’ he whispered.

‘Not exactly the scarlet woman of melodrama is she,’ Bree replied.

‘You’d pass her on the street without a second glance, just someone’s old granny.’

They wandered around the gallery, examining the works as they went. Bree studied Jade Green closely, memorising her features to ensure she would not pass their target the street without recognising her immediately.

Bree was impressed with the quality of the work on display. The carvings were excellent. There were animals and figures of people caught in natural poses each polished to a high gloss. Realistic actions and the way the wood grain was used seemed to bring the figures to life.

The paintings were also of a high quality. Portraits and landscapes were executed in exacting detail. Light suffused the works, animating them and raising them above the hackneyed and trite works usually offered in out of the way galleries. Bree saw several that she would gladly have hung on her apartment’s walls.

The couple with Jade Green agreed on the purchase of the carving of a small dog. Jade Green wrapped it in tissue, before placing it in a bag displaying the name Toby Brown Gallery and processing their credit card.

The sale completed, Jade Green conducted the purchasers to the door and wished them well before turning to the second couple who were still trying to make up their minds.

They waved her away, saying that they were still looking.

Dismissed, Jade Green turned her attention to the third couple present.

She walked towards them with a smile on her face and a steady gait. ‘For an old lady she moves well. No sign of arthritis,’ thought Bree.

‘May I help you?’ asked Mrs Green.

Bree turned to Sam and winked. Thinking as she went, she smiled at Jade Green and presented the elderly lady with her one and only business card for the Save the Country Fund.

‘Hi,’ said Bree. ‘My name is Bree Lake and this is my friend Sam Tait. We’re from the Save the Country Fund and we’re looking for a suitable mascot or logo to represent our organisation.’

‘What country are you saving? I hope you’re not anti-development. We have a lot of subdivisions going on around here and we don’t want any protesters making trouble, especially for my friend Toby.’

‘Oh no,’ exclaimed Sam, taking his lead from Bree. ‘Our organisation is designed to encourage sustainable development. We’re all for building houses as long as there are plenty of trees left for nature’s creatures. We like to encourage the wide range of bio-diversity that can be created in everyone’s back yard.’

Mrs Green looked at the two young people before her. Their body language yelled ‘bullshit’, but they seemed healthy enough, in a sort of rugged way, to be genuine outdoors types. They were not unlike her friends, Lana and Brian, who loved to spend their spare time backpacking and camping in the wilderness.

‘What exactly are you looking for?’

‘We don’t know exactly. Perhaps if you could show us some of your works, we may get an idea,’ said Bree.

Mrs Green showed them around the gallery, pointing out various works that could conceivably fit their requirements.

As they were doing so, Sam noticed a small car enter the parking lot. What caught his attention was that instead of parking in the lot in front of the gallery it drove to the rear of the building. ‘Obviously not a client,’ he thought. A few minutes later he heard voices coming from the room behind the gallery.

‘I can’t see anything here that reflects what our organisation is all about. Perhaps if we spoke directly to the artist, we may get some inspiration.’

‘Of course. Toby is in his workshop. Come this way.’

She led them through to the rear of the gallery, past shelves stacked with blocks of drying timber awaiting their time to be transformed. Bree noted a small area, blocked off with screens, behind which the foot of a double bed could just be seen.

In the middle of the large workroom was a workbench where gauges and chisels, the tools of trade for a woodworker, were neatly arranged.

Seated at the bench and working at a block of oak, was a young man of impressive size. The muscles in his back and arms stood out as he hunched over his work, guiding the gouge over the wood and raising a curling shaving from the model of a horse he was creating.

As they moved towards him, the rear door opened and a tall, strikingly beautiful woman entered, with a painting under each arm. She walked to where another two paintings were propped against a cupboard and added these latest two to the stack.

‘Oh good, you’re both here,’ said Mrs Green.

As Toby Brown looked up from his work the breath caught at the back of Bree’s throat. He was gorgeous!

Sam didn’t notice. He was more interested in the blonde with the paintings. Jade Green introduced them.

‘This is Toby Brown, who created all the figurines outside, and this is Lana Reynolds who painted all the wonderful pictures. Perhaps, together, they may be able to come up with something for you.’

She passed Bree’s card to Toby.

‘These people are from the Save the Country Fund. They’re looking for a suitable logo for the fund.’

‘What country are you saving?’ asked Lana.

Bree could see this was going to be the standard question whenever the name of the fund was mentioned. She wished the powers that be had picked a more specific name. It was going to become very frustrating.

Sam had moved off to one side, taking more photos, leaving her to answer all the questions.

‘As I explained to your assistant here, we seek to encourage the eco-sustainability of the urban landscape.’

‘Is that what you said before?’ asked Mrs Green.

‘It’s a general terminology only,’ replied Bree, trying desperately to remember just what she had said.

‘So what you’re after is something that reflects nature, as a back yard,’ offered Lana.

‘That’s it exactly,’ said Sam, even though he had no idea.

Lana and Toby looked at one another and tried to decide if these people were serious. They certainly didn’t seem to know what they wanted.

‘Maybe we should start with the wood,’ suggested Toby.

‘What sort do you want?’

‘What sort of wood do you have?’ asked Sam.

Toby looked at Mrs Green with a bemused expression. ‘I’ve got cherry, pine, larch, fir, yew, sycamore, alder, maple, walnut, cedar, oak …

‘Oak!’ interrupted Bree. ‘Oak. Back yards have oak trees.’

Toby said: ‘OK. Oak it is. I have a nice big cross-section back here. I’ll just get it out,’

Lana said: ‘What sort of design do you want Toby to etch on to it?’

‘Perhaps you could suggest something,’ said Sam.

‘Well it’s a back yard, so what’s in a back yard?’

‘Kids,’ offered Sam.

‘Trees of course,’ said Mrs Green.

‘Pets,’ suggested Sam again.

Lana held up her hand. ‘Just a minute.’ She moved off to the gallery to get a piece of paper and pen just as Toby returned with the almost circular cut of oak.

‘Will this be big enough?’

‘That will be perfect,’ said Sam. He had absolutely no idea what size they needed.

Lana returned with pen and paper and began to draw a stylised tree with an animal and a child beneath it. The tree could have been any type, the child any sex, and the animal anything from a mouse to a horse.

‘That’s perfect,’ said Bree. ‘How much will that cost?’

Toby looked at them and named a price. He had learned a lot about ‘asking’ prices since starting his own business and was surprised when Sam immediately produced his wallet and paid the ten per cent deposit there and then in cash. They hadn’t even tried to talk him down.

Mrs Green escorted Sam and Bree back into the gallery where she wrote down their address and promised the completed plaque would be delivered.

As Bree and Sam left the building, Lana turned to Toby and Mrs Green. ‘I’ve never heard of that group before, but they certainly appear to be well funded.’

‘I thought they would have wanted me to do it for nothing as my contribution to the ecology.’

‘A very strange fund,’ opined Mrs Green.