Jinnie was very happy as she left the doctor. He had been sent the release notes electronically from the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Bridgetown, and from the questions he asked he had obviously read them. He had examined the wound and said it had healed nicely and there was no sign of infection. He asked how she came to have a gunshot wound and Jinnie gave him her cover story about a street robbery outside the British Embassy and how a police guard had shot dead the robber and British Embassy staff had saved her from bleeding to death. He had said the Bajan doctors seemed to have done a fine job.
The doctor asked about her fitness, and Jinnie explained how she had crossed the Atlantic on a repositioning cruise ship and on the second day had realised just how her fitness had suffered and how one of the gym instructors had designed her a fitness programme. Now she was back home, every day she was swimming in her neighbour’s pool and using his gym equipment. The doctor has said that physically she had recovered well but he was worried about her mental state. Was she sleeping, was she nervous to go out, was she worrying? Jinnie had laughed and replied she was sleeping like a baby; she was not in the slightest nervous about going out and the only worry she had was how quickly the twins were growing up!
The doctor had agreed to her going back to work, but had suggested she do it gradually, say only going into the office a couple of days a week at first. Jinnie explained that was just what she normally did as she had a home office. Before she left the doctors, he had warned her that although she felt OK now, it is quite possible she could develop late-onset PTSD, as it was known to hit anytime from six months to years after the incident. If she began to feel any symptoms, at any time, she was to ask for an emergency appointment.
Jinnie walked to her Lexus and, as she had promised her dad, headed straight down the A1000 towards Finchley. Stopped at a red traffic light in Whetstone, Jinnie saw a whole row of commercial vehicles parked outside a cafe on the other side of the lights and she was suddenly hungry. With a glance at the car’s digital clock she read 11:25 and decided that once out canvassing she had no idea when she would get a chance to eat. Spotting a gap in the row of vans she pulled in and headed for the busy cafe. She looked at the menu board hanging in the steamy window and saw it was a typical greasy spoon. The all-day breakfast looked good, but just about every table was full so she decided on a takeaway fried egg and sausage bap and a cup of tea.
Jinnie joined the short queue at the counter and placed and paid for her takeaway order. She stood to one side to wait. Jinnie watched in fascination as her roll was being prepared, the large bap being sliced, butter being spread, and three chipolatas were split long ways and placed on the roll. The girl behind the counter asked, “How do you want your egg luv?” Thinking she didn’t want egg yolk all over the leather of the car seats, Jinnie answered, “Easy over please, and can I have brown sauce on the sausage please?” “Of course, luv,” came the reply. “Do you want sugar in yer tea?” “No thanks,” answered Jinnie, who watched as the girl took a big metal teapot off a hob and poured a polystyrene cup of tea from the pot which already had milk in it.
With the bap wrapped in paper and a cardboard sleeve handle and plastic cap on the cup, Jinnie headed back to the car. She popped the tea into a cup holder and unwrapped the bap which smelt good. From the first bite it was delicious and Jinnie tucked in. She was halfway through the bap before she remembered the tea. Slipping off the cap off Jinnie took a cautious sip, she wasn’t sure what to expect as she had never had tea with milk already in the pot before. Surprisingly it was hot, strong and much better than feared. Jinnie finished her meal and walked back to dispose of the wrapping in a bin outside the cafe.
***
Back in her car Jinnie drove on to the party office in Ballards Lane. The office was busy, with people coming and going and lots of cars were parked outside. Jinnie sat for a moment before walking back to the office. It was busy inside and Jinnie stood and watched until a middle-aged woman put the phone she had been using down and said, “Hello, can I help you?” Jinnie smiled and replied, “I’m Jinnie De Luca, Mr Walsh’s daughter, I promised him I would help this afternoon.” “I’m Tamara Banks, the branch chairman, he mentioned you could be here to help. How do you feel about handing out leaflets and rosettes at Finchley Central station? We have people there who need relieving so they can get some lunch. I was just about to send Sam over, but two hands are better than one. Now let me find you a big rosette, do you have a car, Sam can direct you to the station.”
Tamara pulled a box of pale blue rosettes out from behind a desk and pinned one onto Jinnie’s jacket saying, “That goes nicely with your cream jacket.” Jinnie asked, “Could you spare three more, my twins and their nanny will be at the count tomorrow.” “Of course,” said the chairman before asking, “How old are your twins?” “Nearly five,” answered Jinnie. “They are on half-term holiday.” “So, they are Mr Walsh’s grandchildren, he never mentioned it, it’ll make a fantastic publicity shot. Oh, keep your eye open, your dad and Sir Nigel are out and about the constituency together with Sir Nigel’s soapbox. Don’t worry about Sir Nigel he is really nice.”
Jinnie laughed and said, “I know, he is my next-door neighbour and the twin’s godfather. Strangely I first met him in the first post-war election when I was manning a trestle table outside Potters Bar station where Dad was standing for the local council. He turned up with his soapbox and made a rousing speech.” “This gets better and better,” said Tamara. “I want to plant the story in the paper when your dad is elected.” “Don’t count your chickens,” answered Jinnie.
***
Sam directed Jinnie to the station and after a bit of a struggle Jinnie found a parking space a few hundred metres down Hervey Close and walked back to the Reform trestle table at the top of the slope down to the Tube station and its car park. Positioned to catch both people using the Northern Line and shoppers on the main road, the table was dressed in Reform pale blue and laden in leaflets, rosettes and souvenirs. The couple who were manning the table were ready for a break and told Jinnie and Sam if they were needed, they could be found in the ‘Glue Pot’ a little further up Ballards Lane. Jinnie must have looked puzzled because Sam explained it was the local name for the Joiners Arms.
Sam went behind the table and oversaw selling the party paraphernalia, such as mugs, ink pens (Jinnie still wanted to call them Biros), diaries and teddy bears with party rosettes. Meanwhile, Jinnie took a bundle of ‘Vote Walsh’ leaflets and handed them to passers-by. Jinnie played a game in her head trying to guess who was likely to vote for her dad and who wasn’t. If they refused a leaflet or took one and dropped it a few metres later that was a no. If they stuffed the leaflet in their pocket without reading it, they were a maybe. If they read the leaflet and then kept it, they were a probable yes. But if they asked for a leaflet, took one from the pile on the table or bought a party souvenir they were a definite yes.
After half an hour the probable yeses and definite yeses were outnumbering the noes and maybes by a considerable margin. Jinnie walked over to the table to pick up more leaflets and Sam said, “I reckon we are going to walk this election, I have helped at general elections, borough elections and now a bye-election, and I have never sold so much stuff or seen so many people accepting a leaflet. You realise that with the economy booming and unemployment really low, people are going to vote for us.” Jinnie nodded and got back to handing out leaflets from the unending supply in the cardboard boxes under the table.
After an hour the couple returned from the pub ready to take the stall back, happy to have had a sit-down and something to eat and drink. Sam rang Tamara who asked them to do the same thing, to relieve the couple outside the Tallyho pub in North Finchley so they could get lunch. This time Jinnie knew where she was going but not where to park and this time Sam directed her to a small car park in Stanhope Road which Jinnie was surprised to see was immediately behind the Sybaritic, which she had never seen before. Of course, being about 1 o’clock it was yet to open, or Jinnie would have been tempted to look inside. But the location in the middle of North Finchley couldn’t have been better.
The two men they were relieving, debated where to go to eat, apparently it was McDonald’s or the Tally Ho pub. In the end they opted for the pub despite one of them not drinking alcohol and protesting strongly that what Tally Ho needed was a decent daytime eating place that did an all-day breakfast, shepherd’s pie or even a decent sandwich. Jinnie couldn’t help thinking about her visit to the greasy spoon for an early lunch, the closed Sybaritic and what Artisan Sandwiches sold during the day. In her mind she couldn’t help thinking what if the Sybaritic could be an Artisan Sandwiches and sit down during the day and upmarket dining in the evening. It was of course only open from 17:30 to 00:30 daily. Artisan Sandwiches branches opened at 07:00 and closed about 15:00, could they share a building, she wasn’t sure, but she was going to run it past Brooke and Alberto.
***
Jinnie was just picking up a fresh wad of leaflets when she spotted her father, Sir Nigel and a man carrying Nigel’s soapbox and megaphone coming toward them. A pair of armed, uniformed policemen were right behind them. Jinnie said to Sam, “We’ve got company.” Mr Walsh kissed his daughter and said, “Hello love, we won’t be long, it’s your turn for a couple of quick speeches.” Nigel came over and said, “Hello Jinnie, it’s nice to see you out working for the party, how are you getting on with my old friend Sam? He’s been helping with elections since we were allowed to be a party.” Jinnie answered, “We are doing pretty well; in fact, I think we make a good team.”
The man with the soapbox jumped up on it and using the megaphone started working the small crowd that was gathering. He announced that in a few minutes they would hear from James Walsh the Reform Party candidate for tomorrow’s by-election and Sir Nigel Farage the ex-prime minister and ex-MP for Finchley. The crowd began to build, and Jinnie got busy handing out leaflets. She was joined by the two people whose stall it was and the three of them worked the crowd.
First up to speak was Sir Nigel who was greeted with a huge cheer. As always, he knew how to work the crowd that had now spilled into the road and stopped traffic. The police failed miserably to get the road clear as Sir Nigel spoke of how delighted he was to be able to introduce his friend James Walsh who was standing for Reform in the next day’s by-election. He told them that in his opinion James would make an excellent MP. He was a councillor on Potter Bar Council, had served on several committees and was currently Deputy Mayor.
When it came to her Dad’s time to speak Jinnie paused handing out leaflets and rosettes and listened to him. She had never heard him speak in public before and had to admit she was impressed. He was confident, to the point and promised to be available to them at a regular Friday clinic. He was well received and the, by now, large crowd clapped and cheered. Finally, he promised that, if elected, he would faithfully serve the constituency. Stepping down off the soap box numerous people came forward to shake his hand and promise him their vote.
After a few minutes the crowd began to thin, and the traffic started to move. Jinnie found herself next to her father and told him, “That was impressive Dad, I didn’t know you could speak like that in public.” “As a councillor I have often had to speak,” said Mr Walsh, “and when I began to chair committees the party sent me on courses to learn about public speaking, and I guess it has paid off.” Nigel came over and said, “I am afraid we must move on to our next speech. Keep up the good work Jinnie. I hear you are going to be at the count on Friday, we’ll see you there.”
Jinnie got home not long before Paolo and was sat with a gin and tonic when he walked in and tossed a copy of the Evening Standard to her, saying, “The Standard’s opinion poll says your dad is going to win.” “I think if what I saw today is repeated everywhere else,” replied Jinnie, “he will walk it.” Paolo said, “I would love to be at the count, but I fear it is getting busy at the embassy. The German-Russia thing is getting worse, the satellites are showing both sides are building troop concentrations, at least this time we should only be observers.” “My only worry is if we have to go to the aid of someone like Hungary or Poland,” replied Jinnie.
***
Polling day dawned dull but dry and the forecast said the sun was coming out later and it was going to be a pleasant evening, excellent voting weather. Jinnie knew she could do nothing to help her dad today, so she was going to do a bit of work after her swimming and gym session. As the twins were on holiday, they and Izzy joined Jinnie in the pool and Larry headed for his basket in Nigel’s kitchen. Jinnie hadn’t been swimming with the twins for a while and was amazed when they leapt in the pool and instead of grabbing an inflatable, started swimming lengths. She swam alongside them and was impressed by the strength of their strokes and stamina.
After five lengths the twins stopped and started splashing Izzy who splashed them back. The poolhouse was full of the children’s laughter when Sir Nigel entered the poolhouse and joined them all in the pool. The noise got even louder, and Nigel splashed the twins as hard as they splashed him, then had a race over two lengths of the pool that he deliberately lost as Jinnie peddled on the exercise bike.
Climbing out of the Pool Sir Nigel asked, “Who wants hot chocolate and biscuits?” The twins shouted “Me”, so Sir Nigel said, “Right then, once you are dry and dressed, it’ll be ready for you in the kitchen. But be careful, there is a mad cat called Larry in there!” With that he put on a robe and headed for the house. Emma had the hot chocolate ready when they all arrived and sat around the kitchen table. As soon as the biscuits appeared Larry got out of his basket and padded over to the table to be fed bits of Hobnob. Emma asked Jinnie, “Are you going to support your Dad today?” Jinnie said “No, there’s nothing I can do. They have a full complement of people at each polling station, the local office is fully manned, and they have a team on standby to give people a lift to the polls if asked, but few people ask these days, they either have their own car or they register for postal votes. I have a few jobs to do, but I’m officially off sick until Monday.”
Back in her garden office, Jinnie decided to ring Brooke and run her idea about the Sybaritic past her. Brooke listened as Jinnie explained her idea. Brooke didn’t say yes or no to the idea but started asking questions. “How many covers does your Sybaritic have?” was her first question. “Is there room for a takeaway counter?” “Sixty covers,” answered Jinnie, “but we would have to lose a few to make room for the counter.” “Won’t that kill the economics of the place?” asked Brooke. “Not if we have daytime profits from an Artisan Sandwich shop to make it up,” replied Jinnie.
“Right oh,” said Brooke, “it’s on the big side for an Artisan Sandwiches outlet, but as we would be sharing the lease cost that wouldn’t really matter. What about the tables, I bet they are a bit posh for a cafe and the cutlery and crockery will be a bit upmarket.” “I’ve been thinking about that,” replied Jinnie. “We could move the tables on to a Trattoria Trevi somewhere and put in cheaper tables with a wipe-clean top. If we put a nice white cloth over them at night no one would know. We would have to have two teams of employees, but it would be an interesting concept to try. Oh, you know it works for Anderson’s beach bar, it becomes a sophisticated fish restaurant at night.”
“Now you mention it, I remember that,” said Brooke. “I have a couple of ideas, the sandwich counter could become a help-yourself salad bar at night, people buy a plate and can fill it up as many times as they like. But I’ve been thinking about signage, that’s a bit more difficult. Do you remember that James Bond film where he had a car that at the touch of a button the number plate rolled round and changed? Do you think we could do something like that, Sybaritic at night and Artisan Sandwiches by day?” “That’s one for me to throw at Belinda I think,” replied Jinnie.
“So, you think it will work?” continued Jinnie. “Probably,” replied Brooke, “but I don’t think we could use many of the existing Artisan branches as most of them don’t have big seating areas. Windsor could as we bought the chemist’s next door, and it has more space and the new one in central Birmingham is bigger than anywhere else. But it does mean that we can combine the search for new branches, but they would have to be a bit bigger. I think it’s worth testing the concept. I’ve eaten in the Sybaritic and it was very good. There isn’t an Artisan in miles, and I had been looking for an outlet in the general area. If it works, it could be very profitable adding the two branches together. Have you talked to Alberto? Have you costed the modifications?”
“Hang on, not so fast,” said Jinnie. “I only thought this up yesterday when I was canvassing for Dad right outside. I might get Belinda to look at costs for alterations and then talk to Alberto, would you be up to visiting HQ and tackling him with me?” “Definitely,” answered Brooke, “the more I think about this the more I like it. Let me know when you have a costing, and we can ambush Alberto. One other thing. How do we manage this new business? We have ‘Fastfood’ on one hand and Sybaritic on the other two separate businesses.” “Easy,” said Jinnie, “Sybaritic moves under your division.”
Jinnie had hardly put the phone down when she spied Sir Nigel coming through the gate from his garden, he saw her looking towards him and waved. He plonked himself down in one of her visitor’s chairs and Larry leapt into his lap. Sir Nigel said, “I see that like me you are redundant today.” “Yes,” said Jinnie, “I prefer ‘surplice to requirements’. Although if all your speeches were as well received yesterday as the one I saw, I think Dad has nothing to worry about today.” “I have just been chattering to Tamara and she is very happy, she said the party tellers at the polling stations are reporting that we are miles ahead in the returns they are collecting.” “I’m not uncrossing my fingers yet,” replied Jinnie.
“While you are here,” continued Jinnie, “can I run something past you as MD of Trattoria Trevi?” She then explained the scheme she had just discussed with Brooke. Sir Nigel sat back and listened, not interrupting he let her explain. When she had finished he said, “That’s interesting, I need to sort some things out in my head. I assume that this would be a way of going forward if it proves successful.” “Yes,” replied Jinnie, “if we can combine two successful businesses it would make it much more profitable.”
“Have you spoken to anyone else on the board about it yet?” asked Sir Nigel. “No not yet,” said Jinnie. “I was about to phone Belinda to get some idea about the cost. I can sort out some of it, like manpower and crockery, even have a stab at the extra utility requirements. But I need her to advise on things like a takeaway counter and access requirements. I wanted to put a package together before presenting it to Alberto. If you both support it I’ll take it to the board.” “What I’ve heard so far, I like,” said Sir Nigel, ‘but I need to see the costs before I give it the final OK. Now I have one other thought, the two companies have completely different reporting structures, how do you propose to tackle that?” “That’s already sorted,” replied Jinnie. “It’s obvious really, we put Brooke in charge of a combined division, but I haven’t thought of a name yet.”
“I agree with that, but I can’t think of an obvious name yet either, but then we have time to think about it,” said Sir Nigel. “Now, why I really came over. To ask if you were going to the count tomorrow,” “I am,” answered Jinnie, “and so are the twins, I have big rosettes for the twins, me, and Izzy.” “Good,” said Sir Nigel, “I’d love a photo of the twins with their rosettes.” “I think Tamara is going to organise that,” replied Jinnie.
***
Jinnie had just put her mobile down after explaining her plan to Belinda, when she spotted Izzy leading Jed down the garden path. He quickly set about updating the software on her DKL PC, so she moved over to her Trattoria Trevi set-up and started going through her emails on that. But she had only reviewed a couple when Nigel arrived to install the SAP client software on that. She sat and watched them and was amazed that they were busy chatting as they did their work.
With the updates done Jed and Nigel both offered to give her a quick overview of how to work the new software. Over mugs of coffee and Hobnobs, they took her through the basics first of the Trattoria Trevi setup and then the DKL version, apart from logging on, the systems were very similar, and she soon had the basics. Both Jed and Nigel both promised to take her more deeply into their implementations next time she was in their offices.
Jinnie asked Nigel if he and Camilla had found a house locally and Nigel said they had moved into a beautiful five-bedroom detached chalet bungalow in The Walk with a huge garden. Close enough to the High Street for him to be able to walk to Maple House and for Camilla to walk to the station for a fast train into Kings Cross. He said the house was lovely, but its decorations were not to their taste as it had been previously owned by an old lady who had moved to a retirement home. They were having it redone from top to bottom, including a new kitchen and master bathroom. Nigel added that when they got a bit nearer spring, they intended to have the garden landscaped. Once that was done, he would invite them both to the housewarming party.
Jinnie chuckled and said, “By the sounds of it we must paying you too much.” “Not at all,” replied Nigel. “We were lucky, this property was fresh to the market, the old lady had been waiting for a suite to become available in the retirement home she had chosen when three became available at the same time. She wanted to move, we needed to move, and we got a cash buyer for our house. It is Belinda’s daughter and her husband who are moving back to the U.K. from Italy in the late spring, and we made a good few bob on what we paid originally.”
“I bet Belinda is delighted to have Melissa and her family moving in so close by,” said Jinnie. “She certainly is,” said Nigel. “It was her who came to me when she heard we were moving on. The people in that road are very protective of their neighbourhood, they don’t want developers moving in and building flats and I can see why, it is a super environment. Besides it saved use both estate agent’s fees. I hear Melissa will be looking for a job as her mum has replaced her at Wright Refurbishment.” “I don’t think she need worry,” said Jinnie. “I have the perfect job lined up for her. Maybe I ought to tell Belinda what I have in mind next time I speak to her, she can tell Melissa and put her mind at rest.”
***
The twins loved their giant rosettes and stood proudly with the large group of Reform Party officials and observers in the leisure centre hosting the count. Granddad Walsh had been with them on and off for the past twenty-five minutes, since they had arrived with Mummy, Izzy, Granny and Nigel. Every time he showed up, he seemed to have a bigger smile. He told them that although no one could say anything officially the heaps of voting slips in front of his name were growing bigger and bigger.
Millie was amused by a man walking around wearing what looked like a galvanised bucket on his head while Willie preferred the man wearing a battered top hat, colourful frock coat and yellow trousers. Nigel explained to them that they were both famous for standing at every by-election where they regularly lost their deposit. One was called ‘Count Bucket Head’ while the second was ‘Screaming Lord Such the Second’ who was leader of the Monster Raving Looney party. The twins convulsed with laughter, and it infected the rest of the family who were soon giggling too.
Tamara arrived with a cameraman who Jinnie recognised as often being with Bill Furr. Tamara introduced him as Jimmy from the press group, and he posed the family and Sir Nigel with the grinning twins standing at the front proudly displaying their rosettes with Granddad’s picture in the middle. After taking several pictures Jimmy was satisfied and went off to send the digital images to the office. Moments later the returning officer called their Granddad into a huddle from which he emerged beaming.
The returning officer called all the candidates to the podium and tapped the microphone and with the candidates lined up to one side he began to read the results in alphabetical order. Mummy told them that because Granddad’s name was Walsh his number of votes would be read out last. The twins listened intensely to the results with Sir Nigel explaining to them what each number read out meant. As usual Lord Bucket Head and Screaming Lord Such the Second got fewer than 100 votes, each and lost their deposits. The Labour Party candidate got just over 12,000 votes and his supporters whooped and cheered. Millie asked “Has he won?” and Nigel replied, “No, nowhere near.” The next were the Greens who got under 500 votes, and the Liberal Democrats who had 3,500. Nigel whispered to the twins, “The next one is the only one left who can beat Granddad.” The returning officer announced that the Conservative candidate had got 14,045 votes and James Walsh had received 28,617 votes and James Walsh was duly elected MP for Finchley and Golders Green.
Nigel said to the them, “Granddad has won!” and the twins joined in with all the people surrounding them who were jumping around and hugging each other. Next thing was Granddad made a speech thanking everyone and promising everyone he would faithfully represent them in parliament. It took a while before Grandad came over to them and they all laughed and joked together and Uncle Nigel said he had booked a table for everyone at Sybaritic for when it opened at five thirty and he had included Tamara and her husband. Willie asked, “What is a Sybaritic?”
In Chapter 11 – James Walsh MP takes his seat
© WorthingGooner 2024
