Adrian told his partner about Anne Chaffey, and what she’d told him, and the impact of her words. ‘At first I didn’t take in what she said, but it obviously sank in somewhere.’ He changed the subject suddenly. ‘Remember how we were talking about the Tobu World Square theme park a few months ago?’
‘That place in Japan where they’re going to have more than 40 World Heritage sites, and over 100 perfect replicas of world-famous architectural works and ancient monuments?’
‘That’s right. All on a scale of 1/25. The Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, the Leaning Tower of Pisa and the Taj Mahal, Big Ben and the Great Wall of China, the Pyramids and the Parthenon, St Peter’s Basilica and the White House – they’ll all be there, in the park, when it opens in the 1990s.’
‘And the sites are going to be populated by around 140,000 miniature people, each just three inches high.’
‘Correct.’
The Lilliputian figurines especially appealed to Adrian because of the way they’d bring an instantly understandable scale to the project. ‘The theme park means that, instead of travelling around the world to see these marvels, the Japanese will be able to drive a few miles out of Tokyo and photograph themselves against each of them, all on the same day. It’ll be easier, quicker and less expensive than visiting the originals. Which is quite something – if,’ he added with a smile, ‘you’re into that kind of thing.’
He stopped pacing the room and, standing directly in front of his partner, said: ‘Imagine if we could do the same as the Tobu World Square Park for Africa Assist?’
Jack looked blank. ‘I don’t follow.’
‘What if we brought a starving person to London? If we placed the reality of Africa right on our own front doorstep? Instead of Londoners going to Africa, which only a few people ever even consider, why not bring Africa to London? Just as the Japanese will be doing with all of the world’s great tourism icons. That would really make people sit up and take notice.’
Jack became enthusiastic. And Adrian thought, this is a great idea if only because everyone believes it’s a great idea. Even though he’d only explained it to Anne and Jack so far, both of them had immediately seen its potential. He then made a request of his partner that he didn’t expect to be a problem, but it had to be asked. ‘I want to take a month off. I want to become a full time consultant with Africa Assist. I want to run this operation from within their organization. Can you do without me for that amount of time?’
His partner laughed. ‘You’ll hardly be missed. We probably won’t even notice your absence.’
‘Thanks, Jack.’
‘But has James Balcombe agreed to you doing this?’ Jack knew how easily his partner was carried away by sudden enthusiasms.
‘Not as yet. I wanted to speak to you first. That’s my next task.’
Adrian wasn’t at all surprised when James Balcombe struggled to get his head around the idea; the thinking was too outside the box. He watched him puzzle over the implications of what he’d been told, like a child listening to a teacher explaining the principles of algebra for the first time. When he spoke, eventually, it was with his usual ponderous, almost carping tone of voice. James didn’t do enthusiasm; he preferred looking for problems.
‘I’m being totally honest when I say this: it worries me sick.’ (Adrian knew of his client’s inclination to speak in hyperbole.) ‘I’m not sure you understand the implications of what we could be letting ourselves in for here.’ (Adrian also knew of his client’s inclination to miss the whole point of an argument.) ‘This could all go horribly wrong, Adrian. We can’t afford to damage our reputation, you know. Africa Assist is highly regarded amongst the people who count. There’s never been even a whiff of scandal attached to our name.’
Adrian did his best to reassure. ‘Everything will be all right. Trust me, James. This is going to be the biggest thing you’ve ever done. It could be bigger than Live Aid.’
‘That’s absurd. I’d remind you Geldof raised millions of pounds.’
‘I still think we could be bigger.’ As he said it, Adrian wondered if he wasn’t being wildly optimistic. But he knew that only if he appeared to be without a scintilla of doubt would he receive the necessary backing from James. ‘On top of which, I want to run the show. One advantage of this is that you can keep the whole thing at arm’s length. If it’s a failure, I’ll be the one who cops all the flak; if it’s a success – as I’m sure it will be – I’m more than happy for you to step forward and receive the plaudits.’
‘That’s all very well…’ There was a ‘but’ in there somewhere, but Balcombe never managed to reach it. Instead he stood up and moved from behind his desk to sit down, with a weak groan, on the sofa next to Adrian. It was an unconscious attempt to show Adrian that although James considered himself to be on a different, as in higher, level from him, he had the generosity of spirit to play the egalitarian card, to bring himself down to Adrian’s level. His PR consultant could see this quite clearly; James couldn’t. ‘It’s a crazy idea,’ he said, ‘quite mad, and I don’t believe we should do it.’
‘Crazy or not, the idea is everything. And that’s why you employed Talcott & Burles, remember? You wanted us to make you famous. That was your brief, James, and that’s what this idea will achieve.’
Balcombe perked up a little at this remark, but only momentarily. Like many weak people, he could be stubborn. ‘I could forbid it, you know.’ It was a feeble rejoinder.
‘Of course you could, but you won’t, will you? That would be stupid, and you know it. You missed out on Live Aid and Band Aid, with most of the money going to the big charities like Oxfam, Save the Children and World Vision. You don’t want that to happen again, and this will make sure it doesn’t. Believe me, you’ll have the other charities, even the juggernauts, knocking on your door, begging for a slice of the action. They’ll go crazy with jealousy.’
James smiled at this possibility, but persisted with a final, weak, ‘I still have grave doubts about such a project’. But he had already begun to sound as if he was exhausted by their disagreement.
At that point, Adrian knew he’d won. He didn’t relent though. ‘I’ll say it again, James, this is why you employed us, to raise your profile. It’s our area of expertise, it’s the only reason we took on your business in the first place – on a pro bono basis, I have to remind you.’ The executive director looked pained by this reminder. It perhaps made him conscious of having a somewhat lowly status in the corporate world. ‘You need this kind of publicity; it’s the only way Africa Assist can survive.’
‘I’d remind you that we’ve been doing all right for a few years now.’
‘All right isn’t good enough. The world is changing. You have to stay ahead of the game, otherwise you’re finished.’
Finally, James Balcombe gave the project his very half-hearted support, but only on condition that his trusted assistant, Dave Parker, worked closely with Adrian on its planning and implementation. Adrian had little time for Dave, considering him an ineffectual and sycophantic nobody, too busy agreeing with everything his boss said to ever be capable of doing anything worthwhile by himself. But he didn’t see any problem working alongside him; he’d be harmless.
Three weeks later he received a call from Anne. She’d found someone. She described him to Adrian over the phone, her voice fading in and out as if she were speaking to him outdoors in the middle of a snowstorm. The static was dreadful.
Two days later, he flew out of London.
Early