Chapter 5
 

Richard called one of his fellow directors at the bank and explained what was needed. As ever, it’s who you know not what you know—Richard, however preferred the RHIP approach—Rank Has Its Privileges. Privileges that would be lost when Richard formally retired a few weeks later.

By the time Angela returned to the living room Richard had finished most of his work. Whilst Tammy’s hair hadn’t been short when she was still Tom, Angela’s father had insisted that Tim always had very short hair when he left the barbers. That meant that Angela's wig would be needed for a while yet. Right now it was drying in the bathroom after being washed. Angela was therefore quite self-conscious at that time.

What took Angela’s interest however, was the box that remained unopened. Inside was a shiny pink netbook, and very little else. She had already found the battery still held some charge, when it was slotted on to the underside of the laptop, but plugged it into the wall anyway.

Booting it up she had to go through the registration procedure, which initially failed when there was no internet connection. Angela hit the ‘remind me later’ button and managed to get the desktop up, then wondered out loud what to do next.

“Mum, can we get broadband now?”

Richard added to the question, “Joan, I know George didn’t approve but Angela does need access to the ’net for her coursework, as indeed you will if you want to get back to your studies.”

“But we can’t afford it, George said it would cost hundreds of pounds, even if it was available all the way up here.”

“It is available, Elsie and the school have access to the internet. So far as the cost is concerned, it isn’t expensive, not now at least.” Richard could have called George a liar at that point, but what would he have achieved? “Now, what about lunch?”

“We don’t have much here, I should have gone shopping yesterday.”

“How about I put an online order together with Tesco for later today then we get into town for a few bits and pieces?”

“I think so.”

“Mum, I'd like to stay here?”

Richard answered, “Angela, I think it would be best if you came with us, to support your mum.” He really didn’t want to leave Angela on her own right now.

“I s’pose so, hang on—my wig!”

The wig was still damp so the trip into town was delayed whilst the wig was dried, slowly, with a hairdryer, Angela brushed continuously as it dried and was pleased with the look but neither her mother nor Richard had noticed the extra effort, the two adults were hunched over Richard’s laptop, in the British Telecom website.

“Joan, I’ve put my email address down as a contact for now, we can change it when you get your own email address. Has the school allocated one yet?”

“No, will they?”

“Yes. That reminds me.”

Richard picked up the house phone. “Hello Harry, it’s Richard Smart. I understand you want me to call.”

“Yes Richard, who got to you first, Elsie or my daughter?”

“Your daughter, but it looks like it could have been any of the females around here!”

“Yes; is your daughter always that slack at passing on messages?”

“Not normally. What’s this about the governor’s job?”

“You’ll do it then?”

“Do what?”

“Take the position.”

“Do I have any choice?”

“Not in my book.

“What’s involved?”

“A meeting once a month at the school and the odd subcommittee. You’ll be ideal for the finance group, we’ve already sent you the papers for Wednesday’s meeting.”

“I’m being railroaded.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, this is probably a big mistake though.”

“That’s the spirit. See you Wednesday, ten sharp.”

Harry rang off before Richard could argue. With nothing else to do, he shepherded the others into his car.

As he started the engine Richard received a text on his mobile and smiled.

Downtown he first went to Joan’s and Angela’s bank. There was very little that could be done with Joan and George’s joint account, that was now in the hands of the solicitor. However, Angela’s account was a different matter.

“Angela, I think you should know that your account had not been changed, they still have you recorded as Tim, regardless of yesterday’s business here.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. But I suggest closing the account.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes, and that’s not just because I’m a director of another bank. In fact I won’t even be one of those for much longer.”

“Oh. Mum, what do you think?”

“I trust Richard, but you have to do what you think best.”

“Right.”

Angela walked up to the counter and put her old bank card on the counter.

“I’d like to close this account.”

“Can I ask why?”

“It seems a simple request yesterday couldn’t be dealt with properly. Is that enough?”

Angela was very confident. She had seen a programme a year earlier, perhaps, where the lead character had marched into a bank demanding their account be closed, so she thought she knew the procedure.

In practice, this bank did not allow the counter staff to close accounts without a manager’s authority. The duty manager that day was the same upstart who’d seen Angela the day before.

“Hello, what’s the problem?”

“You didn’t change the name on my account.”

“There was a problem.”

“There isn’t one now. Close the account.”

“I’m sure we can fix this.”

“I doubt it. I’m going along the road so if you don’t mind I’ll have my £50.03 in cash.”

“I’m afraid we’ll need proof of identity with a recent photo, such as a passport or driving licence. Do you have either of those?”

“No. Right, I’d like to make a withdrawal of £50.”

“Certainly.”

Angela signed the slip as Tim Small and handed it to the female teller. She processed the request, handing the money and card to Angela. She clearly hadn’t looked at the name on the card.

Angela took the money but left the card. She turned on her heels and walked away, her head held high.

“Miss, your card!”

“Keep it, you’re welcome to the thrupence.”

She turned, joined the other two at the entrance and stepped into the street. Following Richard, Joan and Angela walked into Richard’s own bank.

Mr Doherty was waiting for them, a look of disgust on his face. He’d plainly been told to make himself available.

“Good morning Mr Smart, Mrs Small, Miss Small.” He didn’t mean it.

“Good morning Mr Doherty, I see that you received a call.”

“Yes, and I’m still not sure what it going on.”

“May we use your office?”

“Certainly.”

Once inside the branch manager’s office Richard outlined the problem. He explained that the accounts should be ‘live’ on the system.

“So what is there for me to do?”

“I would like you to scan Mrs Small and Miss Small’s signature onto their relevant accounts then enable online banking for both.”

“Is that all?”

“No, I’d like you to transfer £1000 from my personal account to Mrs Small to tide her over. I believe Miss Small would like to make a deposit.”

“Unfortunately cash can only be handled at the counter, but I’ll organise the account transfer now.”

“Thank you.”

“Is that all?” The question this time was a little more tense.

“Yes, many thanks Mr Doherty.”

“That’s alright but I wonder why you requested me and not one of the staff.”

“I didn’t, it was the head of personal banking who made the request.”

“I see. Good day.” He clearly had more important work to do, including buying a Christmas present for his wife. What he didn’t know about was the personal bonus that had been arranged, at a time when the majority of staff had been had been told not to expect one this year.

Richard then escorted them to the little hotel at the back of the town centre, near the harbour.

“Welcome, welcome. Would you like a table out of the way?”

Frances, the bar manager, always seemed to be able to judge his customers’ needs.

Drink orders were taken, Francs leaving the three with a menu each, plus a spare. No-one questioned the extra, believing it to be an error.

Five minutes later Elsie walked in, handing her coat to Frances and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you Frances, my usual please.”

“Certainly, Mistress McPherson.”

Elsie sat down in a flourish and picked up the menu, putting it back down swiftly.

“Good afternoon Richard, Joan, Angela. How are you all today? Terrible business isn’t it.”

Before they could answer Frances returned to take the food orders.

Seemingly forgetting Elsie’s questions they made small talk. Joan was much more relaxed, perhaps because Richard and, eventually, Elsie were doing their best to stop her dwelling on the previous day’s event.

Lunch over, Elsie took over and suggested to Joan she could do with a bit of pampering.

“But I haven’t got the time.”

“Don’t be silly, Sandy’s expecting us in ten minutes.”

“Richard?”

“Go along, Angela and I will get some bits done. We’ll see you back at the cottage.”

Joan gave him a kiss, holding his hand as she did. Reluctantly she left the hotel, forgetting for a moment to button her coat or put on her gloves. The cold air reminded her quickly.

Richard settled the bill and took Angela back to the town centre, Where he took her to a winter sports store and suggested she equip herself.

“But I don’t know what I need, or why. I also can’t afford it.”

“In reverse; don’t worry about the cost, you’re going on holiday and this girl will help you choose.”

“Hello, where is it that you will be going?”

“The Tirol,” Richard answered, “a little escape.”

“Skiing?”

“Yes.”

“Right, come this way.”