Flaxmead, Page 5

CHAPTER THREE

  Nearly four years ago in Bristol South West England a meeting of two powerful merchant bankers. The fair city of Bristol sitting between the counties of Somerset and Gloucester was prime real estate. The Ivory tower of Hornswaddle and Fothrington was nestled in the city centre suburb of Broadmead and the conversation was about life long employee Winston Blake. Their merchant banking empire had been built over several generations and the only real concern in life for the ageing pair was falling from the top of their wallets and being fatally wounded. Wilson Hornswaddle and Bartholomew Fothrington started work for their fathers direct from university with budding young entrepreneur William Blake who as a child had helped pay for his parents farming property by collaring every local paper and grocery round and sub letting them to others in Flax Bourton just south west of Bristol. His enduring manner made him popular and he nearly became a politician but came to the notice of Hornswaddle and Fothirngton's fathers who convinced him to join them direct from university where he had been firm friends with their sons although four years behind them. In his mid thirties he took the helm of the merchant bank as CEO and after many years of success now sixty five was about to retire.

  Wilson Hornswaddle and Bartholomew Fothrington faced each other across the board of directors table being the only ones that had ever sat around the oversize oak construction in the pompous silk covered chairs that looked quite miniature in comparison to the volume of the room they were housed. In the upper level office next to a full size wall window overlooking the round mall centre of Broadmead and the masses of commoners. The pairs pale complexion and white hair reflected years of sunlight deprivation locked in offices and exclusive clubs controlling the rich and infamous. Smelling of expensive cigar smoke and rich port wearing suits that cunningly tailored it left their hands and face completely naked they quietly spoke of their predicament, their refined British accents used softly.

  "Well the time has finally come and we are unprepared," said Wilson.

  Bartholomew had his hands clasped together as if in prayer touching his mouth with his thumbs his elbows on the table. He lowered his hands and opened his eyes. "Well we know money is of no use in this case, Winston is the only man in our midst who cannot be swayed by ridiculous offers of revenue. We have to decide on who is going to replace him, when he returns from his leave in Ireland he will be gone. We have tried in vain for months now to get him to stay but its over I feel."

  Wilson stood up and looked out the window at the bustling activities in the mall below. He turned back to Bartholomew to maintain a lower tone and still be heard. "We are loosing a dear friend. I feel life had passed me by. I've never had to struggle like Winston and his family, I was so important to myself I have ended up with no family just you and I."

  "We didn't even trust Winston, I feel I am loosing a brother. I was shocked to have him tell me he has little respect for me as a person. I need to rethink my life but it is almost gone. I remember when our fathers absorbed the massive debt of many farmers round here after the war. Nearly sent us broke and I vowed that would never happen to us again. My father chastised me for taking the wrong message from the move, shame I never understood what he meant. We hold our heads up on the backs of our fathers and Winston. Now I don't know what to do."

  Wilson sat back down. "Do you know why Winston has gone to Dublin?"

  "He didn't say but I hear he is buying a horse to train and race."

  "A horse good lord."

  "He is fond of the race in Australia called the Melbourne Cup, his daughter took him to the race when he visited her there years back. As we know it's the last time he saw her. Knowing Winston he will not rest until he finds her."

  "I thought he had accepted the fact she's gone. He spent a lot of time in the Belanglo forest region in New South Wales. The last place she was seen I would have thought the rest was obvious considering what had gone on there during the time of her disappearance."

  Bartholomew smiled with a shrug. "Have you ever known of Winston to give up on anything?"

  Wilson laughed. "No I haven't. A horse that will be different for Winston."

  "Maybe not, his secretary says he has been working on this since his daughter disappeared."

  "Well that's extraordinary, horses are a gamble I dislike gambles and horses."

  "Or perhaps they are a calculated risk. So you know nothing of horses."

  "No hate them not in the least bit interested, sport to king's heh. Sport of fools if you ask me."

  "Does the name Phar Lap ring a bell?"

  Wilson suddenly had a look of surprise. "Yes it does, my father spoke of Phar Lap on many occasions he liked horse racing. Was a horse that won the Melbourne Cup in Australia. That's extraordinary I can recall only one horse and you know that horse as well."

  "They call it the race that stops the nation."

  "I could understand that, common offspring of convicts take any opportunity they could to stop work swill beer and shout aloud."

  "Maybe that's what's missing from our lives. I've been stuck in offices or down at the club on the same chair talking about money and who had and how we were going to get it all my life. What are we going to do with all this money. I'm going to take a walk down the mall and buy an ice cream."

  "Should I call Elderslie to bring the Rolls?"

  "No I'll take the stairs and walk."

  "Good lord are you mad the mall is full of commoners, they may talk to you."

  "Yes Winston does it every day its part of his life. He takes the train from Flax Bourton to the office six miles here in Broadmead every day then walks to the office rain or shine. He's done that for over forty four years. He was the happiest man I know until the disappearance of his daughter. I have never walked the streets in case someone asked me embarrassing questions especially the media. Winston answered all those questions for me perhaps it's my turn now he's leaving us. Now are you coming with me?"

  Wilson blinked quickly and seemed flustered but settled with a shake of his head. "Why not, I'll do it, and Id like to see this damned horse as well. The thought of loosing my brother Winston will probably drive me to anything."