have won a substantial sum of money secret, Mr Hardcastle. As we are all aware, this whole affair has caused so much speculation in Grimsby that I would advise you to say nothing further and to keep your head down. Perhaps get away with your wife for a week or so. After all, you have now retired and no one would think anything of it if you went on an extended holiday. As it might cause comment if we were seen lunching together, I have taken the liberty of ordering a light lunch here in the office. Some smoked salmon and just a glass of champagne.’
‘Very considerate, I’m sure, but I would prefer Brown Ale,’ said Albert, unwilling to change the habits of a lifetime.
‘Brown Ale it shall be,’ said the ever-tactful Manager - and smoked salmon and Brown Ale it was!
Albert arrived home that afternoon after what he considered tobe a most insubstantial lunch. He had no love for brown bread at the best of times, especially when it was cut so thinly that the slightest draught would have blown it off the plate. As for the salmon, it tasted like no salmon he had ever come across. Often his wife would open a tin of sockeye red and that, together with lettuce, radishes and sliced hard-boiled eggs was the sort of high tea he knew. That was real salmon, not the uncooked muck he was obliged to swallow at the bank. However, it was a kindly gesture even if, throughout the meal, Mr Worthington made several attempts to get him to transfer the six or so million pounds out of his current account into ‘something more suitable for such a large sum’. Albert was having none of it. The money stayed where it was and he would draw on it whenever he might need it.
Alice was doing the ironing when he entered the kitchen through the back door.
‘Wipe your feet, Albert!’ she cried. ‘I’ve just swabbed the floor and I don’t want you messing it up with your great clodhoppers.’
Albert did as he was bid, wandered into the living room and sat in his chair by the fire. Casually he picked up a copy of the Grimsby Soapbox , a newspaper he had known since he was a lad. Clearly they were struggling to find fresh news for this edition. The story of a local MP, who in an attempt to gain popularity took on ‘Bruiser Barlow’ in a local fairground and had still notrecovered consciousness three days after the bout, continued to run. Otherwise fish, or the shortage thereof, dominated the columns.
Turning the pages, he could not fail to see a large advertisement headed by the picture of a Naval Officer in full ceremonial rig.
Golden Oceans, he read. First World Cruise. See the world in luxury. First come, first pleased! For Albert, whose horizons were limited indeed, this was heady stuff. A chance to see the world. A chance to see for himself what this world had to offer. The wonderful thing was that he had the cash. The sum required to pay for two on this exotic journey of a lifetime would hardly make a dent in his six million.
‘Alice,’ he called out. ‘Come here, luv.’
His wife appeared from the kitchen.
‘Have you seen this?’ he asked, holding out the newspaper.
‘Of course I haven’t,’ she replied indignantly. ‘Do you think I’ve nothing better to do than gawk at the paper? It’s a rag anyway. I hear Jimmy Ockshott is still unconscious. As he spent most of his time in Parliament asleep, it ought not to make much difference to him anyway.’
She took the newspaper from his outstretched hand, adding, ‘Well, what’s so important?’
‘Look,’ he urged. ‘The World Cruise.’
‘World Cruise,’ she repeated. ‘World Cruise. Who in theirright mind would want to spend God knows how much being seasick and eating foreign muck?’
‘I think this might be different,’ said Albert hopefully. ‘If you read on, it says that there will be traditional British home cooking and that the modern ship is equipped with all the latest devices they can afford. They even have balconies.’
Alice read on. ‘Aye,’ she