‘Hey, you. Where can I find Noggett?’
It is a week after the Beechams have left–he looking a bit worse than when he went into hospital; God knows what she was doing to the poor old sod–and I am standing in for Sandra who is having a bash on the tennis court–or more likely–in the long grass behind it! Every time she comes back she is covered in burrs. Everywhere but on her knickers, as I found out once when she bent down. Funny, that.
The bloke who is addressing me is about my age and has shoulder-length hair worn over the collar of his smart suit. He is carrying a pig-skin attaché case. Apart from his manner I don’t like his shifty eyes which are darting round the foyer as if trying to memorise every feature.
‘Do you mean “Mr Noggett”?’ I say primly.
‘There’s only one, isn’t there?’ The tone is only slightly less than a snarl.
‘I’ll see if he is available. Who shall I say wants to see him?’
‘Edward Rigby.’ The bloke is now tapping the walls. ‘And hurry up, will you? I’m a busy man. I haven’t got time to hang around this morgue.’
When I find Sidney he is in Miss Ruperts’ office cocking his little finger over a cup of tea.
‘Miss Ruperts has surpassed herself,’ he pipes. ‘The Pendulum Society are going to hold their convention here. Every room in the hotel booked Friday to Sunday. Isn’t she a clever girl?’
Sidney coming the smarmer makes me want to puke, but I manage to control myself. ‘Great,’ I say. ‘There’s a nasty looking Herbert in the foyer who wants to speak to you. He didn’t say what it was about.’
‘Oh, well, better see him, I suppose.’
I notice, as we leave, that Miss Ruperts has a bottle of brandy under the tea cosy. She does not change.
When we get into the foyer, Rigby looks Sid up and down like he is measuring him for a coffin.
‘Mr Noggett?’
‘That’s right. What can I do for you?’
‘I’d like to have a few words with you–in private.’
He looks at me like I came off the bottom of his shoe after a walk around Battersea Dogs’ Home.
‘Mr Lea is my personal assistant. You can speak freely in front of him.’
Blimey! It is a long time since Sidney referred to me like that. He must obviously find this cove as unlovable as I do.
Rigby shrugs and we go into Sid’s office.
‘Let me come to the point at once,’ says Rigby, hardly waiting till his arse has hit the chair before he starts speaking. ‘I’ve come round here to offer you a fair price for this place. I’m in property and I want to develop this site. I’ve bought the freeholds on either side of you and I hope we can come to a sensible arrangement.’
‘What if we can’t?’ says Sid.
‘I don’t think there’s a lot of alternative. I’m going to start demolishing both the buildings on either side of you in a few weeks and I’ll be surprised if that does anything for your business–if you have any.’ This guy’s money obviously ran out half way through charm school.
‘What kind of figure were you thinking of?’
Rigby mentions a figure which makes me want to scream ‘Grab it and run!’ but Sid does not bat an eyelid.
‘That’s ridiculous,’ he says. ‘It cost me more than that.’
‘Take it or leave it.’
‘I’ll leave it.’
Rigby produces a card and drops it on the table in front of Sid. ‘When you’ve had time to reconsider, or talked it over with someone who knows the business, get in touch with me.’
‘The council won’t let you start pulling down the buildings next door.’
‘They’re all in favour of it. This end of town is going downhill so fast they’d like to put it on wheels and push it along the coast.’ He stands up. ‘Don’t leave it too long. I’ll start reducing my offer at the end of the week.’
‘Piss off.’ Sid’s words may be less than eloquent, but they sum up our feelings more than adequately.
‘No need to take that tone. I–’
‘PISS OFF!’ Sid jumps out of his chair and Rigby has his hand on the door knob quicker than Mary Whitehouse adjusting the picture control on her telly when a naughty bit comes along.
‘Jumped up little basket,’ snarls Sid when Rigby has disappeared.
‘Do you think he was bluffing, Sid?’
Sid walks over to the window and pulls back the curtain. Outside we can see Rigby climbing into a chauffeur-driven Rolls.
‘No,’ he says. He picks up Rigby’s card. ‘ “Rigram Property Company”. I’ve heard of them. I think Sir Giles had something to do with them at Funfrall.’
‘He’s done all right for himself, that bloke, hasn’t he? He didn’t look any older than me.’
‘Yeah. Makes you sick, doesn’t it?’
‘What are we going to do, Sid?’
Sid takes a deep breath. ‘I’m going to make a few enquiries at the Town Hall. And then I’m going to concentrate on getting things ready for the Pendulum Society. We must not be diverted from our purpose, Timmo. Rigby or no Rigby, I intend to make this place posh and profitable.’
‘Did you really pay more than he offered for this place?’
‘I exaggerated a bit, but it was still a pitiful price he came up with. You don’t know how much I put myself in hock to get this lot. Considering that we crept in just before the boom, he should have given me a much better deal. Anyhow,’ his face brightens, ‘don’t let’s look on the gloomy side any more. I’m really chuffed about this Pendulum scene. The family is coming down next weekend and I want them to see the place looking as if it’s got a bit of life about it.’
‘You mean Rosie and Jason?’
‘Your Mum and Dad, and all. I couldn’t leave them out, could I?’
I know what answer I would have given. Mum and Dad always spell trouble. I would have thought that Sid would have sussed that after his experiences on the Isla de Amor.
Sid is well pleased because the Pendulum mob want to have a dance on the Saturday night and he reckons that we stand to make a few bob from the catering. About half as much as Dennis, I reckon.
As Friday gets nearer, Sidney burns around the hotel getting up everybody’s bracket in a big effort to make the staff respond like Funfrall employees. In this endeavour he is wasting his time. All their get up and go got up and went years ago and only highly strung Sandra buckles to with a will–or, as I personally suspect, a willy. One afternoon, I notice a lot of burrs around Sid’s turnups and I reckon it is he who has been giving her a quick in and out behind the tennis courts. Better keep that lot under control when the family gets here.
Friday afternoon comes and the first delegates–as Sidney chooses to call them–begin to roll up. I notice that they all seem to be married couples, or sign in as married couples, and are a bit smarter and younger than our normal guests. Early middle-aged trendy with a fair sprinkling of love beads and the like on the men.
‘What is this Pendulum Club?’ I ask Miss Primstone who is watching the new arrivals disapprovingly.
‘I have no idea,’ she says coldly. ‘They are certainly not the kind of people I would have expected to find here in the old days. I don’t know what has come over Miss Ruperts. It must be the influence