And Thereby Hangs a Tale

“You have to prove to me that the company will benefit from any further expenditure.”

“Would saving a client two million pounds be considered a benefit?” asked Alan innocently.

Kerslake pulled the file back out from the bottom of the pile, opened it, and began to read. “I’ll let you know my decision within the hour.”

Alan returned to Harrods the next day, after he’d had another nocturnal chat with his wife. He took the escalator to the first floor and didn’t stop walking until he reached the Roger Vivier display. He selected a pair of shoes, took them to the counter and asked the sales assistant how much they were. She studied the coded label.

“They’re part of a limited edition, sir, and this is the last pair.”

“And the price?” said Alan.

“Two hundred and twenty pounds.”

Alan tried not to look horrified. At that price, he realized he wouldn’t be able to buy enough pairs to carry out his experiment.

“Do you have any seconds?” he asked hopefully.

“Roger Vivier doesn’t deal in seconds, sir,” the assistant replied with a sweet smile.

“Well, if that’s the case, what’s the cheapest pair of shoes you have?”

“We have some pairs of ballerinas at one hundred and twenty pounds, and a few penny loafers at ninety.”

“I’ll take them,” said Alan.

“What size?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Alan.

It was the assistant’s turn to look surprised. She leaned across the counter and whispered, “We have five pairs of size thirty-eight in store, which I could let you have at a reduced price, but I’m afraid they’re last season’s.”

“I’m not interested in the season,” said Alan, and happily paid for five pairs of Roger Vivier shoes, size thirty-eight, before moving across the aisle to Manolo Blahnik.

The first question he asked the sales assistant was, “Do you have any of last season’s, size thirty-eight?”

“I’ll just check, sir,” said the girl, and headed off in the direction of the stockroom. “No, sir, we’ve sold out of all the thirty-eights,” she said when she returned. “The only two pairs left over from last year are a thirty-seven and a thirty-five.”

“How much would you charge me if I take both pairs?”

“Without even looking at them?”

“All I care about is that they’re Manolo Blahnik,” said Alan, to another surprised assistant.

Alan left Harrods carrying two bulky green carrier bags containing seven pairs of shoes. Once he was back in the office, he handed the receipts to Roy Kerslake, who looked up from behind his pile of files when he saw how much Alan had spent.

“I hope your wife’s not a size thirty-eight,” he said with a grin. The thought hadn’t even crossed Alan’s mind.

While Anne was out shopping on Saturday morning, Alan built a small bonfire at the bottom of the garden. He then disappeared into the garage and removed the two carrier bags of shoes and the spare petrol can from the boot of his car.

He had completed his little experiment long before Anne returned from her shopping trip. He decided not to tell her that Manolo Blahnik had been eliminated from his findings, because, although he had a spare pair left over, sadly they were not her size. He locked the boot of his car, just in case she discovered the four remaining pairs of Roger Vivier, size thirty-eight.

On Monday morning, Alan rang Des Lomax’s secretary to arrange an appointment with him once he’d returned from his holiday. “I just want to wrap things up,” he explained.

“Of course, Mr. Penfold,” said the secretary. “We’re expecting him back in the office on Wednesday. What time would suit you?”

“Would eleven o’clock be convenient?”

“I’m sure that will be just fine,” she replied. “Shall we say the King’s Arms?”