Page 79 of The Gathering Storm (Morland Dynasty #36)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Woolthorpe was a tiny village, with few inhabitants, mostly fishermen or graziers, a poor place, with the church roof suffering for lack of wealthy congregants. ‘No-one to object, you see,’ Richard said. ‘In fact, they’d welcome the influx of money.’

Failing to find anywhere suitable in Suffolk or Norfolk, Richard had cast his net further north, into Lincolnshire, an even less populous region. He and Samuel had taken the train to the nearby small and well-kept seaside resort town, where the agent had a car waiting for them.

‘How far is it?’ Samuel asked, as they started off.

‘Two miles,’ Richard said. ‘Special motor-buses could be laid on to bring the guests from the station to the camp—’

‘Village,’ Samuel corrected automatically.

‘—village, which would give us an extra element of control, to prevent outsiders getting in without paying. Not that there are many outsiders around – and most of them will probably end up working for us anyway.’

Samuel noted the change of tense from the conditional. ‘You’re pretty sure this is the place, then?’

‘Look around you,’ said Richard. ‘Flat land, flat as a pancake. All poor grazings. And wait until you see the beach! Miles of golden sand. That’s why people come here, of course.

’ He gestured behind him. ‘The town council made a concentrated effort before the war to bring in holidaymakers by providing them with one or two facilities.’

‘Well, then, won’t that be too much competition?’

‘No, because our people will have all the facilities thrown in. And they won’t be locked out of their lodgings all day. Think of the luxury of being able to go back to your room to fetch a cardigan. Or if your new sandals pinch. Or if you take too much sun and need to lie down for a bit.’

Samuel, who had never been on a seaside holiday in his life, let alone stayed in a bed-and-breakfast, grunted. ‘It’s a deserted sort of country, all right,’ he said, staring out of the car window. ‘Too far from London?’

‘Nowhere is too far, if the railway goes there,’ Richard pointed out. ‘People go all the way to Cornwall for holidays.’

‘I suppose that’s true.’

The car stopped at the side of the road, and they got out, standing on the grass verge and looking eastwards towards the sea over rough grazings separated by thin hedges.

In the distance a square church tower stood above a huddle of cottages.

‘That’s Woolthorpe,’ the agent said, ‘and this,’ with a wide wave of his hand, ‘is the area in question. As far as that line of hedges, and up to the village boundary. And, of course, all the way to the sea.’

‘It’s bigger than I was thinking of,’ Samuel said.

‘The land is cheap now,’ Richard said, ‘and if – when – the village is a success, you’ll want to expand. By then, it’ll be more expensive. What if someone else has the same idea and wants to build a rival camp next to ours?’

Samuel nodded. ‘You’ve got me there. Well, can we have a look at the beach? And a poke around the village wouldn’t come amiss.’

It was a fine day, with real warmth to the sun after a chilly April.

The sky was a tender blue, and the sea shaded from sapphire to ultramarine on the horizon, the foam of the little waves breaking on the sand turning it brilliant turquoise.

The sand was golden, and there was no sound except the occasional bird cry, the susurrus of the breeze in the rough grasses, and the soft murmur of the waves breaking on the beach.

Richard stood contented as a horse at rest, simply enjoying the sweet, clean air and the lovely prospect in front of him.

After a long pause, Samuel said, ‘I dare say it can get very windy here.’

‘Canvas wind-breaks,’ Richard said.

‘And it won’t always be sunny.’

‘It rains far less on the east coast than in the West Country. It’s the driest area in England. And when it does rain, there’ll be the indoor things for them to enjoy.’

‘What if it rains all week?’

‘They’d have to contend with that wherever they were. And in the ordinary resort they’d have nowhere to go.’ He looked at his companion. ‘Are you having second thoughts?’

‘It’s only good business to think about what can go wrong.’ He waved an arm encompassing, it seemed, the immensity of the Lincolnshire flatlands. ‘I wasn’t expecting there to be so much of it. I thought we were going to start small and work up.’

‘We have to build the communal facilities at the same time as the first chalets,’ Richard said, ‘so it makes more sense to start with as many of them as possible. It’s economy of scale that will make the thing viable.

The owner of the land is the Earl of Ormsby, and he’s willing to give us a long lease on all this land at a very attractive rate.

But if economic conditions change, we might not get the same rate another year. ’

‘He owns most of Lincolnshire,’ the agent put in. ‘Except the bits the Church owns.’

‘Got a monopoly on the land, has he?’ Samuel said. ‘So he can charge what he likes. Why’s he putting a low price on it?’

‘Agricultural depression,’ Richard said. ‘Returns are low, so land is cheap.’

They walked, and Richard talked about his plans.

‘You know I suggested we should look at having the huts prefabricated out of timber and just assembled on site? Well, I’ve been in contact with a contractor – name of Goodman, of Goodman Timber Merchant and Building Supplies.

I’ve been to the factory, or mill, or whatever it’s called.

They prefabricate sheds of all sizes, and they’ve got the spare capacity to take our order.

He’s very keen. He’s going to get a suggested design to me this week.

And I’ve found a builder, local man called Hewson, lives in Seathorne, for the construction work – the foundations, roads, drains, sewerage and so on.

Best of all, he’s willing to manage the whole thing. ’

‘I thought you were managing it,’ Samuel said. He sounded tired.

‘Of course I’ll manage the overall scheme, but we’ll need someone on site to manage the day-to-day work. There will be sub-contractors to keep an eye on.’

‘Sub-contractors?’

‘It’s a big project, and firms up here are small. He’ll need to have others involved to get the capacity needed.’

Samuel stuck his chin down into his collar, a gesture of escape. ‘I feel as though I’m biting off more than I can chew. You got me all excited about Nevinson’s Holiday Village, but I never realised it would be so complicated.’

‘It’s not complicated,’ Richard said cheerfully. ‘It just has to be organised, and I’m more than happy to do that. Honestly, you can leave it all to me, and be no more involved than you want to be. I’m not feeling at all daunted.’

Samuel eyed him. ‘You look as though you’re thriving on it.’

‘I am,’ Richard said, and then, tactfully, ‘that and marriage. I’m afraid my wife is feeding me too well – I’m putting on weight.’

Samuel laughed, and some of the strain left his face. ‘I thought you looked as if you’d been on good grazing. Cynthia learned from the best – Hannah is a wonderful cook.’

‘I know, sir. And Cynthia is taking after her.’

‘How are things at home, now she’s come back to work? Have you got the servant problem sorted out?’

‘We’ve got just the one girl, but she can manage, with all those wonderful gadgets you gave us. Electric carpet-sweeper, electric iron and so on. Oh, and the electric refrigerator is a marvel. I’d never seen one before.’

Samuel looked pleased. ‘It’s an economy in the long run, because it cuts down spoilage. I wanted to get one for Hannah, but she prefers the old ways. I think she’s a little bit afraid of electricity, if truth be known,’ he added confidingly.

‘Well, Cynthia loves it,’ Richard said, glad to have got his father-in-law on to a happier topic. ‘She made a jelly for supper the other day and it set in no time in the refrigerator.’

Samuel was not to be distracted by jelly. ‘You’ve gone over all the figures, haven’t you?’ he said, after a brief pause. ‘And you’re convinced you can make this work?’

‘Yes. I think it could be the start of something big. I envisage an empire of holiday villages – with you as the emperor.’

‘Not me, my grandson,’ Samuel said. ‘Who I hope I’ll be holding in my arms before too long.’

Cynthia had obviously not shared her fears with her parents. Richard accepted the amendment without comment, and Samuel seemed happy not to probe further.

In the train on the return journey, however, he was quiet and thoughtful, and when finally he leaned forward and said, ‘I’ve something serious to talk to you about,’ Richard feared he might be about to be put on the spot about his failure to provide an heir.

Still, there was no help for it. ‘Yes, sir?’

Samuel took a moment in which he seemed to be struggling to find the right words. Finally he said, ‘I want to be sure that if anything happens to me, you’ll take care of Cynthia.’

‘Of course I will,’ Richard said, puzzled.

‘And Hannah.’

‘Of course. I take my family responsibilities very seriously.’

‘Don’t take offence,’ Samuel said. ‘You’ve had other things on your mind lately, and you might not have realised how bad things are abroad.’

‘In Germany, you mean?’

‘It starts there, but it won’t finish there. I’m an old man, and my heart isn’t good these days. If I’m not still here when things go bad, I want to be sure you’ll take care of my Hannah and my Cynthia.’

‘This isn’t Germany. Things won’t go bad here,’ Richard said.

‘They went bad in Austria! Do you know the first thing they did in Vienna after Hitler marched in? They rounded up seventy thousand Jews, and marched them off to a concentration camp.’

‘I didn’t know,’ Richard said humbly.

‘Half the Jews in Austria are Polish, and I have relatives still in Poland. They keep me informed. And if it starts up here, I need to know you won’t sit around thinking it can’t really be happening, and leave it too late to get them out.’

‘Get them out where?’ Richard asked, feeling bewildered.