Short Story: Easy Money

Short Story: Easy Money

Reginald Hammond was very rarely wrong about things. The reason for this was in his careful and organised way of thinking and, because few people had Reginald’s patience, application and preparedness to research diligently. Few, if any, were able to better him in argument.

When Reginald chanced upon something he had not encountered before, he would begin his 'sequence of understanding', as he called it. First, he would set about gathering the facts by consulting his large set of encyclopaedias. Then, when he had gleaned as much as he could from these great books, he would, if necessary, make a visit or two to the local library. When all the facts were marshalled, he would light his pipe, sit in his chair and think the matter through until he had achieved a satisfactory conclusion. That conclusion, he knew, would stand him in good stead against the lesser arguments put forward by other people who failed to follow Reginald’s fastidious and carefully reasoned approach and whose position rested on the shifting sands of popular opinion and baseless assertion. Reginald would, with his relentless logic, demolish those counter arguments until his adversary accepted the defeat that would invariably follow. And that, as far as Reginald was concerned, would be the end of the matter.

Some people, and he included his wife Marjory and his brother-in-law Peter in this, to Reginald's deep annoyance, failed to recognise the superiority of argument and insisted on continuing the discussion beyond its logical conclusion, endlessly reiterating previously made points, raising their voices unnecessarily and becoming increasingly irrational. Peter, in particular would do this, and most annoyingly of all would insist on ending the argument with his favourite expression: ‘Well we must agree to differ.’ Surely the most ridiculous phrase ever invented because, as Peter well knew, two differing arguments on the same point could not, like the unstoppable force and the immovable object, exist at the same time. An opinion was either correct or incorrect and if two opinions are presented that directly oppose each other, then one, it must be concluded, must be superior to the other.

Reginald prided himself in extending this approach beyond the area of intellectual pursuit to all matters in everyday life. Methods of thinking that proved so useful in his discussions, as he called them, could equally apply to the workplace and the home. For example, only last week, his wife has approached him for an increase in the housekeeping payment that Reginald presented to her each Friday evening at twenty seven minutes past six immediately after the six o’clock news on the radio. Mrs Hammond suggested that prices had risen over the last year and she needed more money in order to purchase household items such as food and cleaning materials from the local supermarket. Reginald, prided himself on not making snap decisions, told Mrs Hammond that he would give it some thought which, in due course, he did.

A trip to the library availed Reginald of the latest government figures as to increases in the retail price index over the previous year which he discovered was 2.7%. For a lesser logical mind this would suggest an increase in payment to Mrs Hammond of 2.7%. However Reginald knew that the basket of items that made up the retail price index included things like mortgage payments - they had no mortgage, and petrol prices - and they certainly did not have a motor vehicle. Removing these two items meant that the increase in the cost of food and household items was less than 1%. Some commentators argued that there had been no increase at all and it was these commentators that Reginald quoted when he explained to his wife that there would be no increase in the payments. Once again, and to his immense irritation, his wife failed to accept the overwhelming evidence and accused him of being, as she put it. ‘an old skinflint’. It was a term that she often used but she failed time and time again to provide any evidence for the accusation, which Reginald was able to reject with a clear conscience.

Reginald loved a good argument but lately, for reasons he was unable to fathom, it had become increasingly difficult to find people to join him in these arguments. Reginald presumed this was because people had decided it was futile to resist his superior reasoning powers. The only person who would regularly engage him in discussion was his brother-in-law Peter, a man who you would almost believe, if you didn’t know him better, engaged in the process of being obtuse for its own sake.

Because he did not have regular employment, Peter - or Pete as he insisted on calling himself - was frequently to be found at Reginald’s house and had been known to start an argument with the most deliberately provocative statement. On one occasion for example, Peter had informed Reginald that there was no such thing as a one-man band. Although it was hardly an argument that warranted the attention of so reasoned a thinker as Reginald, it was nevertheless incorrect and Reginald proceeded to give him chapter and verse of the reasons why there was indeed such a thing as a one man band and that Reginald had observed one in the town centre but a few weeks ago. Reginald had of course ignored the hat placed on the pavement before the man because he was clearly not a trained musician. Yet even when pressed with the evidence, Peter still failed to believe him, claiming erroneously that it would not be possible for a man to play several instruments simultaneously. While Reginald concurred that it was not possible to play instruments properly it was, nevertheless, possible to play several instruments at once. Eventually Reginald had no choice but to demonstrate how one elbow could be used to bang a drum, two hands could play an accordion, whilst a mouth organ could be blown into, and so on. For once eventually Peter was forced to accept that Reginald's argument that there was such a thing as a one man band. An admission, for reasons that Reginald was entirely unable to fathom, he seemed to find inordinately amusing and left the house giggling loudly to himself. Peter, Reginald concluded, must have been drinking his sherry, an increased consumption of which, he suspected, might also explain his wife’s insistence on an increase in her housekeeping allowance.

It was in a similar vein that the argument about the stock market developed. Reginald, through careful saving, had accumulated a not inconsiderable amount of money, in sensible high earning building society postal accounts, in some cases entirely free of tax: somewhere in the region of 50 thousand pounds. Peter insisted however that had Reginald invested in the stock market he could by now be a very rich man. Reginald drew a long breath and explained the problem of risk on the stock market, or how you could lose every penny of your savings if things went wrong. Reginald likened the idea to the story of the hare and the tortoise in which he, being the tortoise in this instance, would come out the eventual winner. Reginald had no intention of risking his money on schemes recommended by his brother-in-law, who was very well known for his poor financial organisation.

As far as Reginald was concerned that was the conclusion of the matter, but a few days later, Peter bought up the very same argument on which he had already been so decidedly defeated. Any sensible person would have, by now, given up and moved on to other topics. But apparently Peter’s persistence knew no reasonable bounds. After the same arguments had been gone through yet again and Reginald had, in all honestly, trounced the silly man, Peter decided to change tack. Was Reginald absolutely certain of his arguments? Of course he was. Was there no room for doubt in his position? None whatsoever. If he was so sure, perhaps he might be interested in a wager. Reginald pointed out he had never placed a bet in his life. But then, Peter countered, if he was so sure of his position it could hardly be termed a bet as he was so obviously going to win.

For once Reginald had to agree with his brother-in-law’s logic. However, Reginald never bet, so that was that. But out of curiosity what would have been the stake, Reginald pondered out loud. Peter’s answer came back without a moment's thought. If Peter won, the prize would be £1000. And if Reginald won? Reginald knew that Peter had hardly a penny to his name. What could Peter have that could possibly be of value to him? Peter’s answer was a surprise - if he lost, he would never darken the doors of Reginald's house again. He would leave the district and never return.

For a moment Reginald did not reply. The idea of getting his troublesome brother-in-law out of his life forever was, he had to admit, a tempting thought. The man was constantly in Reginald's house, eating his food, drinking his sherry, sitting in his favourite chair and insisting on watching the most trivial programmes on the television. Sometimes Peter and his wife would sit in the kitchen, giggling and gossiping like a couple of teenagers while Reginald sat in the living room expressing his annoyance by snapping the newspaper and tutting loudly. Marjory was, in her way, a very silly woman, but Reginald quite liked it when the two of them were together alone and he could point out interesting items in the paper which she would otherwise have overlooked as she searched out the day's horoscope and the television guide. He enjoyed the safe haven of husband and wife content in unstated companionship.

Ever since Peter had lost his job and moved into a furnished flat a few doors down he had taken almost permanent residence in Reginald’s house. Reginald had thought long and hard for ways to be rid of him but for once, logical thought and extensive consideration had, until now, thrown up no obvious solution.

But just one moment, it suddenly occurred to Reginald that Peter had no money. How could he invest in the stock market if he had no money. He turned to Peter and pointed out this major flaw in his plan. The reply caused Reginald’s knees to go weak and for a moment he found it necessary to steady himself against the sideboard. Peter had actually suggested that he, Reginald, lend him 10 thousand pounds which Peter would invest in the stock market on Reginald’s behalf. Reginald was speechless.

At the end of a period, say five years, Peter continued, he would return the money together with all the profits made. If those profits exceeded those gained in Reginald's tax free building society accounts, then it would be Peter who won the bet. If, on the other hand, Peter's return were less, then Reginald would be the victor.

When he had managed to catch his breath, Reginald informed his brother-in-law, in no uncertain terms, that the whole idea was preposterous, that he had never heard such fanciful nonsense and he’d no desire to hear another word on the matter. Very well Peter agreed. It was, he said, worth a try and Peter stood up to leave. He quite understood that Reginald would not be interested but he was a little surprised that he of all people did not have the courage of his convictions. Peter had always thought that Reginald was man sure of his opinions, but then, as he clearly was not, discussion of the bet would be dropped altogether.

And with that he left. Reginald stared at the closed door for several minutes before he pulled himself together, picked up his paper and shook it vigorously into shape. Within moments his full concentration was devoted to the matter of the problems of Russian Nuclear power stations and their worryingly poor level of maintenance.

And yet, Reginald found that the idea of the bet, like a fishbone caught in the teeth, stubbornly refused to be dislodged. Every now and again it would stab its way back into his consciousness, and that night, he had an entirely new experience. Instead of dropping immediately into a deep sleep, as was his habit, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, with this brother-in-law's parting words repeating themselves over and over again, almost haunting him: he did not have the courage of his convictions.

Marjory had often described insomnia to him - how she lay there, hour after hour, as thoughts, harmless in daytime, assumed ever more threatening importance in the endless hours of the night. But he had paid little attention and had suspected it was merely an attempt to make him take notice of her and therefore he avoided anything but the most non-committal comment. Little notice, that was, until now. Now, to the loudly intrusive tick of the alarm clock, he pondered once again, those parting words: he did not have the courage of his convictions.

The impertinence of the man. The idea, that he, Reginald, of all people, did not have the courage of his convictions. It didn't bear a moment's thought and yet... and yet.. here he was, devoting an entire night to its consideration. And by the time the night had been overtaken by the meandering arrival of the day, a great conviction had grown in him. He would take on his brother-in-law. He would show him once and for all that, not only had he the courage of his convictions but he was prepared to put that courage to the test. He would be proven right, once and for all, and, at the same time, would remove that irritating thorn in his flesh that had done so much to disturb his peace of mind for the last few years.

In the months that passed, Reginald found himself surprisingly sanguine about the ten thousand pounds he had handed over into the care of his less-than-reliable brother-in-law. Perhaps it was the fact that within 2 months of the start of the bet one of the Reginald's favoured building societies had converted into a bank. Reginald estimated that this would bring him over two thousand pound in windfall shares - a return on his investment so far of twenty percent. The stock market meanwhile had merely shown a small loss over the same period. In the race between the hare and the tortoise, the tortoise had taken a surprisingly early lead.

Reginald said nothing of this to his brother-in-law, merely basked in the glory of his early success. Peter, in any case had seemed unusually subdued, failing to rise to the arguments put forward by Reginald. Even, on some occasions, yielding a point which previously he would have fought tooth and nail before conceding. Not that he did explicitly concede at any time, but Reginald could always tell by the rising of Peter’s voice, accompanied sometimes by an abrupt departure, that the point had been won.

Reginald's disappointment at achieving victory at so little cost was tempered by the fact that in their wager he easily held the upper hand. What he did not realise, but he was soon to learn, was that victory had already occurred and it was this news that his brother-in-law imparted as he sat, shoulders hunched, in the chair opposite Reginald. He had telephoned that morning with the news that he had something important to discuss and could he come around immediately.

Reginald had never once known his brother-in-law to seek permission for a visit, so he knew that there was something important in the air and, as the sad tale began to unfold, Reginald sensed the smell of victory.

Had he heard of a company called Cambridge Biotech? Reginald didn't believe so. Apparently rumours had occurred that this company had developed a substance that could conceivably cure the most inoperable of cancers. Peter it seemed had news of this from a friend of a friend and on this basis had invested the entire ten thousand pounds on shares in that company. The stock had risen ten fold, giving Peter a profit of over one hundred thousand pounds in two months. For a moment, Reginald's heart sank. But then it turned out, during one of the clinical trials of the drug, that there was a side affect that could prove more lethal than the cancer it was supposed to be curing. The stock had collapsed and the company had gone into receivership. Peter had, in one stroke, lost the entire ten thousand pounds.

Reginald found himself caught between two emotions. As a general rule, he didn't have much time for emotions, finding that they had a tendency to cloud otherwise clear issues and he found it best to avoid them whenever possible. But now he found himself wrestling with two at the same time: despondency at the loss of his hard-won savings and elation at having, at last, got the upper hand on his brother-in-law.

On balance it was the elation that was on the ascendant. Was he not well on the way to making up his losses with his own careful yet inspired investments? Not that he betrayed one iota of this elation to his brother-in-law. No, he chose his most serious voice, as he carefully searched for an alternative to that most vulgar of expressions; 'Told you so'. He was suitably magnanimous in victory. Peter shouldn't worry too much at what had happened. Was not this the very thing that Reginald had warned him about? It was lesson learned the hard way but such was life.

Reginald, for a moment, almost felt inclined to dismiss the forfeit that Peter must now pay. After all, would he not miss these discussions between himself and his brother-in-law, especially when they led to such resounding victories? But as that charitable thought faded away, he heard Peter explaining how he had already paid his rent on the flat, packed up his things and was even now ready to begin his journey to the south where he would attempt to start a new life. He stood up slowly and held out his hand for Reginald to shake. He was sorry about the loss of the money and now he would honour his part of the bargain.

As he left the room, a smile played on Reginald's lips and he found himself rubbing his hands together as if in glee, although glee was not, until now, a feeling he had counted amongst his repertoire of emotions. He stood up. He would, just this once, indulge a little, and watch his brother-in-law depart crestfallen down the long garden path. But as he approached the window, the scene that greeted him did not match the one which he had expected.

His brother-in-law looked anything but crestfallen as he marched down the garden path carrying two suitcases. Reginald recognised the suitcases. They were his suitcases. Seconds later, Marjory followed her brother down the path and helped him load the cases into what looked suspiciously like a new car. She was wearing a coat he hadn't seen before. He couldn't recall handing over the money for a new coat. Her old one, despite being five years old, still showed no sign of wear.

As they both climbed in, they were laughing and acting as if they hadn't a care in the world. This scene that played out before his eyes was not, he recalled, the only strange occurrence that day. Marjory had been very busy that morning 'having a bit of a clear out' as she called it. And yet it wasn't the time for spring cleaning. And another thing, she'd been singing. Reginald had not known her to sing... since when? Probably from before they were married.

They did not turn, his wife and brother-in-law, as they reached the end of the close and turned off into the main road. Reginald's brow furrowed in perplexion as he turned and slowly eased himself back in his chair. Something was very wrong here but as yet he wasn't sure what. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked loudly. Outside the window the birds sang and he could hear the distant sound of cars passing along the road. For once Reginald's mind refused to engage to help him make sense of what he had just seen and, even though it was still quite early in the morning, Reginald felt his third emotion of the day. This time it was sadness.