As the Crow Flies

“Then I’ll just have to change banks, won’t I,” said Charlie.

“You have obviously not had the time recently to read the minutes of your own board meetings because when they last met, your managing director Mr. Arnold reported that he had visited six banks in the past month and none of them had showed the slightest interest in taking over Trumper’s account.”

Merrick waited for his customer’s response but as Charlie remained silent he continued. “Mr. Crowther also explained to the board on that occasion that the problem you are now facing has been caused by property prices being lower now than they have been at any time since the 1930s.”

“But that will change overnight once the war is over.”

“Possibly, but that might not be for several years and you could be insolvent long before then—”

“More like twelve months would be my guess.”

“—especially if you continue to sign checks to the value of six thousand pounds for property worth about half that amount.”

“But if I hadn’t—”

“You might not be in such a precarious position.”

Charlie remained silent for some time. “So what do you expect me to do about it?” he asked finally.

“I require you to sign over all the properties and stock held by your company as collateral against the overdraft. I have already drawn up the necessary papers.”

Merrick swiveled round a document that lay on the middle of his desk. “If you feel able to sign,” he added, pointing to a dotted line near the bottom of the page marked by two pencil crosses, “I would be willing to extend your credit for a further twelve months.”

“And if I refuse?”

“I’ll be left with no choice but to issue an insolvency notice within twenty-eight days.”

Charlie stared down at the document and saw that Becky had already signed on the line above his. Both men remained silent for some time as Charlie weighed up the alternatives. Then without offering any further comment Charlie took out his pen, scrawled a signature between the two penciled crosses, swiveled the document back round, turned and marched out of the room without another word.

The surrender of Germany was signed by General Jodl and accepted on behalf of the Allies by General Bedell Smith at Reims on 7 May 1945.

Charlie would have joined the VE Day celebrations in Trafalgar Square had Becky not reminded him that their overdraft had reached nearly sixty thousand pounds and Merrick was once again threatening them with bankruptcy.

“He’s got his hands on the property and all our stock What else does he expect me to do?” demanded Charlie.

“He’s now suggesting that we sell the one thing that could clear the debt, and would even leave some capital over to see us through the next couple of years.”

“And what’s that?”

“Van Gogh’s The Potato Eaters.”

“Never!”

“But Charlie, the painting belongs to…”

Charlie made an appointment to see Lord Woolton the following morning and explained to the minister he was now faced with his own problems that required his immediate attention. He therefore asked, now that the war in Europe was over, if he could be released from his present duties.

Lord Woolton fully understood Charlie’s dilemma, and made it clear how sad he and all at the department would be to see him go.

When Charlie left his office a month later the only thing he took with him was Jessica Allen.

Charlie’s problems didn’t ease up during 1945 as property prices continued to fall and inflation continued to rise. He was nevertheless touched when, after peace had been declared with Japan, the Prime Minister held a dinner in his honor at Number 10. Daphne admitted that she had never entered the building, and told Becky that she wasn’t even sure she wanted to. Percy admitted he wanted to, and was envious.

There were several leading cabinet ministers present for the occasion. Becky was placed between Churchill and the rising young star Rab Butler, while Charlie was seated next to Mrs. Churchill and Lady Woolton. Becky watched her husband as he chatted in a relaxed way with the Prime Minister and Lord Woolton, and had to smile when Charlie had the nerve to offer the old man a cigar he had specially selected that afternoon from Number 139. No one in that room could possibly have guessed that they were on the verge of bankruptcy.

When the evening finally came to an end, Becky thanked the Prime Minister, who in turn thanked her.

“What for?” asked Becky.