Three

The next day at eleven o’clock Jack and Sally walked into the offices of Bailiss & Peters, the oldest and most respected firm of solicitors in Swindon. As befitted this status there was no shiny glass frontage, no chrome and brushed steel. Bialiss & Peters was no johnny come lately, flash in the pan, style before substance concern. They were solid and respectable, they were sound, they had bottom. To emphasise solidity in a world of constant change, Bailiss and Peters were housed in an old brick Georgian town house that spoke of centuries gone by. Jack and Sally felt a silence of ages closing in as the solid oak door closed behind them, cutting out the noise from the street like a sudden fall of snow. The deep carpet muffled their nervous footsteps and the cathedral like quiet of the hallway reduced their curious chatter to hushed whispers. Following a mercifully short wait in a tastefully decorated room full of leather armchairs and matching leather bound books they were ushered into the silence of the urbane Mr Bailiss’ office.

“Good morning Mr and Mrs Grenville, I do hope you have not been waiting long”

He was smartly dressed in a grey pin striped suit with matching hair. The only splash of colour being a red tie that fell across his freshly pressed shirt like an unexpected sunset following a gloomy day.

“I expect you are wondering why you have been asked to come here?” he didn’t wait for the reply. “I must admit I almost refused this case when I heard of the conditions”

Sally’s heart missed a beat as he continued.

“Let me assure I have checked the credentials of the solicitors I am dealing with and everything appears to be above board.” At this point Peter Bailiss stalled and mopped his brow with a crisp white handkerchief. Too posh for paper thought Jack

“I’m sorry” he continued less confidently now “but this is the most extraordinary case. I admit I struggled with my conscience, but finally I felt I had to put this to you for the sake of your son”

Sally and Jack sat silently and stared at the vacillating lawyer. The silence was complete and would have remained so if Sally hadn’t broken in

“Please go on” she said quietly Peter Bailiss took a deep breath and visibly calmed.

“Before I begin I am instructed to tell you that you cannot decide to accept, nor decline the client’s offer today. If you wish to accept then you may contact me any time within the next week, I have been instructed to contact the client’s representatives one week from first contact. If you haven’t responded or you have refused the offer by that time it will have lapsed”

Jack was becoming clearly agitated. Not the most patient of men under normal circumstances the stress of Augustus’ illness and the lack of sleep had taken its toll. A posh stuck up lawyer beating about the bush was the final straw.

“Just get on with it will you, what do we have to do?”

This only served to fluster Barclay again, who had only just reacquired his professional poise.

“Well er you Mr Grenville, nothing really”

“So what’s the problem?”

Sally put her hand on her husband’s knee. This calmed him and her. What was she to do?

“Please Mr Bailiss, just put me out of my misery” she asked trying to hide her increasing concern

They watched as Peter Bailiss went through his calming routine again and then continued; the professional lawyer once more.

“Two weeks ago you appeared on a short television news report outlining your son’s illness. I am to replay it to you there is any confusion.”

“No, there is no need, we know it well” Her final words ‘I’ll do anything’ rumbled through her mind like distant thunder. She sat tensely on her chair gripping tightly to her husband as she waited for the lightning.

“My client is prepared to pay all of your son’s hospital fees and your and his travelling expenses for a copy of this news report”

“What” Jack spat the word out, “Is that it? I’ll send him one it’s saved on my computer”

“No, that is not all of it” replied Bailiss. He paused. “First let me tell you our firm has checked and the money is already deposited and is ring fenced until the end of the week. If Mrs Grenville signs the contract then it will remain on deposit until the contract is completed. If you fulfil the terms of the contract as verified by me then the money is yours”

“Right where do we sign” replied Jack, “I’ll bring the DVD straight after lunch, or would you prefer it on tape?”

“You are forgetting Mr Grenville, the earliest you can sign the contract is tomorrow”

“Fine, first thing tomorrow morning then”

“I’m afraid it is not quite as simple as that” This was something Sally had feared.

“My client would like you to record the report again, scene for scene.”

“And how are we supposed to do that” replied Jack testily. The whole thing was taking a bizarre turn. Why all of this, surely this mystery benefactor could get a copy from the TV company. His wife remained silent; unlike her unwary husband she sensed the trap.

“My client will appoint another company; indeed they already have them on retainer, to do the filming”

“OK, OK, I can’t see the point, but OK, we’ll do it again” Jack was almost shouting now.

“There is however to be one significant difference.” Peter Bailiss could feel the beating of his heart as he steeled himself, Jack Grenville was not going to take this well. “In every scene Mrs Grenville must be naked”

Sally wondered if this was how it felt to drown. There she was half way to the New World and salvation, and her speeding liner had struck her own personal iceberg. It seemed to her she was sinking slowly down into an infinite ocean of chilly water, with a calm of acceptance of her fate. Looking around she saw Jack all legs and arms gyrating wildly as he fought against the undertow. Mr Bailiss sat motionless, the broken captain on his bridge staring without emotion at the shipwreck of his folly. Then with a single thought Sally kicked for the surface and, taking Jack firmly by the hand led him away from the dream that she had dared to dream.

Two

The next morning was the same as any other. Gus woke up crying with stiff little legs and Sally spent a long hour massaging him before she could sit him down for his breakfast.

Sally heard the rasping sound of a key in the front door lock. “Morning dear” said her mother as she breezed into the kitchen. Her voice changed as she greeted Gus “How’s nanny’s little soldier then?” He giggled as she tickled his foot. “There’s a letter for you Sal, looks important”

“Leave it there, I’ll get around to it” her daughter told her as she continued to feed her son.

It wasn’t until they sat down for morning coffee while Gussie was having a fitful nap that Sally finally got around to the mystery letter. She looked carefully at the envelope, trying to divine its contents. It was clearly expensive and had the name of a local firm of solicitors on the back. ‘Good news? Bad news?’ she thought. Ever the pessimist she sighed and opened it. There had been no good news for some time so why should her luck change now?

In fact it was no news.

“Dear Mrs Grenville. Please find enclosed a cheque for £300.” Sally read to her mother. She shook the envelope and the cheque fluttered to the floor. Her back ached as she stooped to pick it up. All that running she thought to herself. “This money is for you to appoint a solicitor to verify my credentials. Once you have done so to your satisfaction please contact me. I assure you this will be to your very great advantage. Yours Trevor Bailiss ”

“You can save the £300” her mother told her firmly, “I know Trevor Bailiss and he’s as straight as a die”

“So what does he want then?”

“Only one way to find” her mother told her.

“You look after Gus” Sally said.

Ten minutes later she was back. Her mother looked at her daughter, her expression was unreadable.

“Well?”

“He has a proposition from a benefactor which should provide all we need for Gus’ treatment”

“Proposition?” asked her mother.

“We have to see him in person to find out; Jack and me. It’s very unusual”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”
Sally shrugged. “I don’t know, but if we do go at least we get to keep the £300”

One

At the first piercing sound of Augustus’ cry Sally became instantly awake. She was still in his room, fully dressed in her old tracksuit. Her back ached from sleeping upright in a chair.

“There, there, sh sh, Mummy’s here” she cooed. Baby Augie smiled and dribbled as Sally picked him up. She rocked slowly in her arms until he fell back to sleep. How much longer would she be able to do this she wondered to herself? He was a brave little boy but Ewing’s sarcoma was painful and without the proper treatment Augie would not grow. He would never run in the park, nor swim in the sea. If only he could have the Laziger treatment, but the Health Service would not provide this on grounds of cost. She had pleaded, but they were implacable. The only place was New York, and it would cost, and cost big and they didn’t even have the air fare.

Sally tiptoed into bed. She desperately did not want to wake her husband Jack’s shift at the bar had ended at eleven and he needed to be up at six to get ready for his day job at Hazzard’s Engineering. And so she lay there, in the stillness of a May night unable to sleep, worrying about her son Augustus. She knew that if only they had the money he could live a normal life. But how could they get it. They’d done all they could, written to MPs, councillors, even the Prime Minister, but all had sent a perfectly polite reply that reading between the lines said go away. Then she had tried the charity route, there was no charity devoted to Ewing’s sarcoma so they had started one. Fund raising was slow. It was dog eat dog in the charity world.

They’d soon found charity cake stalls were a thing of the past. Extreme stunts were all that anyone noticed. Her husband Jack had screwed his courage to the sticking post and performed a parachute jump. His bravery had raised a thousand - just. Sally had entered the London marathon but sponsorship was as slow as her training. According to the schedule sent with her acknowledgment of application she should be on twenty miles a week by now.

She had hoped that publicity would be the key, and had expected an inrush of funds when the local newspaper took up her cause. The longed for flood was a trickle in a dry summer stream. It had led, however, to a plug on the regional news bulletin. Sally had thought they were making an hour long documentary given the amount of time they had spent filming. They had tracked her all day from waving Jack off to work, to the presentation of a cheque at his work for his brave parachute jump. It was finally aired last Thursday, a ten minute rush through her packed, mundane daily life culminating in her bent double in the park gasping for breath at the end of her marathon training.

“I’ll do anything” she had panted. Unfortunately she couldn’t think of anything more, and although it been a tidy fill up to her marathon sponsorship, meaning she couldn’t back out now, there was a gap as wide as the broad Atlantic they wanted to cross in funding.

“I’ll do anything” she thought as she drifted off to sleep. Words that were very soon to come back to haunt her.