Vivienne met with Verity late the next day at her offices on Victoria Street. They’d been at Boarding School together and had become firm friends when they both got struck down with Measles at the same time. Being the sole occupants of a Boarding School Sick-bay over the Easter holidays was no fun so they’d gotten up to all sorts of mischief together. That bond had lasted until Vivienne had gotten married. Verity had been her Maid of Honour at her wedding to Rex.

A couple of years later, Verity went off and married Iain who was an Outdoor Pursuits and Scuba Diving Teacher. The couple moved to a place just outside of Inverness in Scotland and then in 1993, they’d gone to the Middle East splitting, their time between Abu Dhabi and Doha. They’d only returned to Scotland about twenty years before. Not long after that, her husband Iain had died in a climbing accident on the Isle of Skye. After trying various jobs in Scotland, she’d landed a plum job in Central London and they’d been meeting up every few months ever since. She’d remarried after a few years. Her second husband was an Accountant at a major Consultancy with offices in Charing Cross.

Vivienne had made her executor of her will not long after she’d come south.

Over an excellent meal in a Spanish Restaurant in Pimlico, the pair talked about old times until they’d finished eating.

“Down to business I suppose?” Vivienne said as Verity removed a file from her briefcase.

She smiled back at her and opened the file.

“I’ve made the changes you requested. All you need to do is sign them.”

As Vivienne signed them, she took a photo of her friend scrawling obligatory signature.

“I’ll clip a print of this to the codicil. Then we are done.”

Vivienne passed the paperback to Verity who then put it in the file and rested her hands on the top of it. A typical lawyer pose, and one that Vivienne had seen many times when she was at the HMRC. She'd even used it herself on several occasions to good effect.

“Are you sure that you want to do this? They are your flesh and blood after all…”

“And they are your God-children. Don’t forget that.”

“I never did.”

"I know that you didn't but these past few years they have been more and more about money. Suzanne is making a total hash of her business and is pregnant yet again. Janice is at least twenty thousand in debt due to her spending on clothes. I tried my hardest as their mother to instil the value of money into them but it had no effect on their actions."

“But…?”

"No, if’s or buts Verity. Their actions over the past weeks and months have led me to this decision. The last straw was Janice demanding that I split the money from the sale of my house three ways. I'd thought that this might be what they had been wanting for some considerable time. What with hints about moving into a retirement apartment and downsizing and then this… I didn't want to do this but they have left me no choice. She really had some cheek to ask me to my face for the money after I’d made it totally clear that the ‘Bank of Mum’ was closed. It was a pity that you could not have come to my Birthday Party. If you had then you would have seen the real start of the end as far as my daughters are concerned.”

"It is very, very sad that it has had to come to this,” said Verity.

“I am sad about it. I’m also resolute. They were told very clearly more than five years ago that I was done bailing them out of their financial messes and that they had to stand on their own two feet from now on. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve said a firm and unequivocal ‘No’ to them since. They just won’t listen. To be honest Verity, I’m done with them. I’m almost ashamed to be their Mother.”

“What about their husbands?”

"Ah, those two useless apologies for men! My girls have them wrapped around their little fingers. I’ll say that in their support that they chose well. They both come from money but it is too bad that neither of them can get their hands on it until one or more of their parents pops their clogs which might from what they told me, be some considerable time.”

“How come?”

She looked over the top of her glasses at Verity.

“Ok, I get it.”

“Where are you going now that your place is up for sale?”

Vivienne sat back in her chair and smiled.

“Ok, who is he and where does he live? And don’t try to leave anything out. I know you too well…”

“His name is Jacques and he runs a smallholding in Devon. He grows a few hundred different species of herb and spices and makes his own charcoal. He sells these at Farmers Markets and supplies a few Hotels and Restaurants in the area.”

“Jacques eh? French, I take it?”

“Yep. And hunky and about ten years younger than me.”

“Does he know that you fancy the hell out of him?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m going down there next week.”

“And if he says no? What then?”

“I have a verbal job offer with a Charity that is starting up in Norfolk. Nothing firm but I am not putting all my eggs in one basket so to speak.”

"Just be careful Viv. You know how best-laid plans and all that can suddenly end up in nothing."

“I do know that and I’m being careful.”

She looked Vivienne in the eyes.

“And you can’t get the idea of Jacques bonking the hell out of you morning noon and night, out of your mind?”

She felt herself go red in the face. Verity knew Vivienne far too well. They’d traded fantasies many times when they were at Boarding School and the same University together all those years ago.

“Something like that.”

“It is nice to see the inner woman in you has not been killed off by all those years collecting taxes…”

Both of them laughed as they left the Restaurant arm-in-arm.

---

[the following Friday]
Vivienne arrived at the ‘Hole in the Wall’ just before six. The place was packed. There were a lot of people returning from a day at Ascot Races. Most it seemed were drowning their sorrows in expensive Champagne. She thought…

“Oh well, it takes all sorts.”

Because of the melee, she decided to move her meeting place to somewhere a little quieter or that was what she’d hoped.

“The Hole is mobbed. Ascot Races! Far too noisy. Meet me at the Mezzanine at the Station."

A few minutes later he replied.
“Ok. Just leaving now.”

Vivienne guessed he’d take about twenty minutes to walk to Bank and get a train ‘down the drain’ to Waterloo[1] and get to here she was waiting. She found somewhere to sit and wait for him.

The concourse below was packed with people going home from their jobs, people returning from the Races and people going away for the weekend. Many were anxiously waiting for the next train to their destination to be allocated a platform. As soon as a platform number came up on the huge displays, a throng of travellers headed for the ticket barriers. Some would be lucky to get a seat. Others faced standing the whole way to their destination, such if the life of a London Commuter.

Vivienne sighed and felt glad that she didn’t have to face anymore commutes to work on the Northern Line. It is packed even at off-peak times and during the rush hours, the City Branch trains were jammed from well before seven-thirty in the morning. That was all in the past. She’d done it for nigh on thirty-five years apart from when she was very pregnant and a month after giving birth. No more thankfully.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a platform number come up for a train to Salisbury and Exeter. Devon seemed so near yet so far. She wondered if Jacques would be at the Farmers Market that was due to be held just a few stops down the line beyond Exeter, in Totnes the next day. She knew where she’d rather be.

Her daydreaming was interrupted by the arrival of Alec Brown, her former assistant. Vivienne saw him coming up the escalator from the main concourse.

“Hi Alec,” she said.

“You are looking good Viv. I can see that retirement is agreeing with you.”

“Thanks, but early days yet. Far too busy to get bored. I’m getting out of London.”

“Good for you. What nice sunny place are you heading for? I know you talked about Portugal a while back?”

“Portugal was no more than some wishful thinking. I nearly got trapped by that bastard Irishman, Donal Patrick. He wanted my money but at the time I was far too blind to see it. Luckily, I realised what he wanted just in time but we got him for VAT fraud as payback. No, this time is it a little closer to home. South Devon is the place I’m likely to be heading to. That leads me to what I wanted to ask you.”

She smiled at Alec and pushed a slip of paper over to him.

Alec looked at it.

“Jacques Chelon?”

“He’s about 10 years younger than me. He lives totally off the grid on a smallholding near Totnes but he has some money from somewhere but I’d really like to know a little more about him before… well you can guess why. He used to live and work somewhere in the City until about ten years ago. There can’t be that many people with his name in the country so it should not be that hard to track him down.”

Alec didn’t say anything so she carried on.

“Nothing electronic. Just use the microfiche records. We have done this many times. I just want some background. He said that he worked here in the Insurance Industry and left because he suffered from Asthma. That’s the bit I’m not sure on. He said that he’s been down there for close on ten years so all I’m looking for is a bit of history like who he worked for before leaving London.”

Alec nodded his head.

“Can you do it?”

He sighed.

“Of course, I’ll try but our new ‘dear leader’ is changing a lot of things. We have to account for almost every minute of our time now. He just wants cases to go to court. None of this trying to find a settlement that is acceptable to everyone.”

“Ah. I get it. He wants a knighthood then?”

Alec smiled.

“That’s the current feeling. He thinks that the more people he sends to jail, the greater chance he has of getting one.”

“What does his boss think of that?”

“He’s not that happy. As you know, he’s measured on the amount of money flowing into the HMRC’s Coffers but Reginald Fox is different. He’s a stickler for process. If I want to access the old records I have to fill out a requisition with a case number and everything. God knows why he wants this information is beyond me.”

“He just wants everyone to know who is the boss. A useless prick if you ask me. Give it your best but if you can’t, then you can’t. Don’t take any risks on my behalf.”

“I will. I’ll probably be going to use the archive next Wednesday or Thursday. The Lawrence Services Case is coming up for appeal and the CPS wants every ‘I’ dotted and every ‘t’ crossed in triplicate. Our new dear leader won’t be able to stop me doing the bidding of the CPS given how obsessed he is with sending cases to trial. I’ll be down there most of the day so spending a few minutes on this will be a welcome break and he won’t suspect a thing.”

"Thanks, Alec. I'll say it again, please don’t take any risks on my behalf. Understand!”

“I got you loud and clear.”

Alec looked at his watch.

“I’d better go. There should be a Haslemere, train in ten minutes.”

"Thanks, Alec. Give my regards to Dianna."

“I will.”

He took a step and stopped.

“We all miss you. We’d have you back in a flash if it meant getting rid of Reggie Kray.”

It took her a moment. Then she realised what he’d said.

“Reggie Kray? That’s a good one.”

“Well, he does act like he rules the world at times. That’s why he is called that behind his back naturally.”

“It does seem quite apt.”
Vivienne smiled.
“You had better go. Platform 14 for the Portsmouth via Guildford train.”

“Thanks. Take care.”
“You too Alec.”

Alec disappeared towards the escalator that would take him down to the platform and his train home. Vivienne sat there watching the people below for a few minutes before making her way down to join them on the concourse and then carried on down into the Underground and her Northern Line Tube home.

When she arrived home, she felt that there was something awry. Then she noticed it. The ‘For Sale’ sign had gone.

She shook her head in amazement. The metal pole was there but the sign on the top had been hacked off. Vivienne knew right away, that one or both of her daughters was responsible. This made her wonder if she'd be getting a visit from Suzanne in the near future? It was then that she decided to cancel the appointments with the 'downsizing' companies and go down to Devon for a few days.

As she sat at her computer and prepared to cancel the appointments for the following Wednesday, she started to have second thoughts. She realised that she could still go down to Devon and be back in time for those appointments.

After a few minutes of dithering and navel-gazing, Vivienne decided to go to Devon early the following morning.

With that decision clear in her mind, she put her car onto charge so that there would be a full battery in the morning. Then she went and packed a bag for her trip to Devon.

After getting something to eat, Vivienne looked at the clock. It was almost nine and neither Suzanne nor Janice had appeared so it looked like she'd escaped, for the time being, another inquisition from her daughters. Small mercies and all that but it enabled her to go to bed in a pretty relaxed state of mind apart from dreaming about Jacques.

[to be continued]
[1] ‘The Drain’ is what the ‘Waterloo and City Line’ is often referred to. This is a short line on the London Underground line that runs only between Waterloo Station and Bank Station.