Picture You Dead

83

Tuesday, 5 November

On the occasions when Harry played a blinder of a first half at golf, the wheels invariably fell off on the back nine. But not this time, no sir! In today’s charity four-ball, he’d held it together, scoring two birdies as well as being in the running for closest to the pin on the seventeenth.

Now seated in the dining area of the Dyke Golf Club, surrounded by his pals, he was feeling stuffed after a decent and heavy late lunch of roast pork followed by blackberry and apple crumble. He was still on a high of excitement about the potential of the Bonhams sale, and had confided about the painting’s possible value to his teammates, who seemed genuinely pleased for him. Happy days!

He was sipping a cup of strong coffee as Bob Sansom and Roger Moore, the organizers of the event, stood up and made their way to the table laden with trophies to begin the prize-giving. Then he felt his phone, on silent, vibrate in his pocket.

Tugging it out, he saw it was Freya.

He answered it and stepped away from the table. ‘How’s your day been?’ she asked.

In the background he heard Bob Sansom announce they’d raised over £25,000 for the Martlets Hospice.

‘Brilliant!’ he replied. ‘We scored forty-two – which puts us with a really good chance of a prize – we might even have won!’

‘Great!’ she said, sounding genuinely pleased.

‘And I might have got nearest the pin on the seventeenth – that’s a two-hundred-quid prize!’

‘Fantastic!’ There was a brief pause and she asked, ‘What time do you think you’ll be home?’

He looked at his watch. It was just gone 5 p.m. ‘Not late. Why, darling?’

‘I’ve had a call about a job that sounds quite substantial and lucrative, a new-build in Henfield. The gentleman I spoke to said he’s been let down by the builders he was planning to use and that you’d been highly recommended to him. But he needs to see you very urgently today, if you’re interested.’

‘Can’t it wait until tomorrow?’

‘I thought you were going to London to take the painting to Bonhams first thing? I told him you weren’t available tomorrow and he said he couldn’t wait until Thursday.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Mike Elkington – he sounds American.’

‘Doesn’t ring a bell.’

‘He was very charming – I think you should see him this evening, we haven’t had a decent new-build in quite a while, and he said if you can give him a price he’s happy with he won’t go out to tender. What time can you be home?’

In the background, Harry heard Bob Sansom announce the winners of nearest the pin on the thirteenth hole, and he was anxious not to miss the next announcement. Giving himself some margin, he said, ‘I could be home by seven.’

‘I’ll call Mr Elkington and tell him.’

‘Love you,’ he said.

‘Love my champion!’

Ending the call, he sat back down, only to stand up moments later and be awarded his £200 nearest the pin prize. And then again, after just a few minutes, he and his three teammates stood up to be presented with envelopes containing vouchers of £250 each for the pro shop, as well as fancy golfing umbrellas.

What a result! And when he got home, with luck there would be an even bigger result. He just had to hope this Mr Elkington wasn’t planning on nailing too hard a bargain, and would be willing to pay for a reliable builder of quality.