Wellstead - 7. WSD Chapter 7

For the past 6 years I had been getting weekly reports from Mr Hills on how the business was going, and under his guidance partial profits were reinvested into the company, while the remainder was invested. I had a good understanding of business now and was able to get a clearer understanding of all business matters, so I wasn’t relying on Mr Hills to explain anything that I didn’t understand as was the case when I took over as owner of the truck business a few years back.

As I was sorting through the last of my grandparents’ papers, I came across a number of unopened letters hidden away in a small locked box. I was puzzled at this and looking at the return address on the back of the envelope it read – David L Wellstead, Post Office Box 485 J, Victoria, British Columbia, Canada.

I had no idea that I had any other relatives as I began to open the first of the letters, which was dated a few weeks after the death of my parents.

‘Dearest Brother,

I am saddened to hear of the loss of your son – Alexander, daughter in law Angela and granddaughter Eliza. All our family passes on their deepest sympathy to you and your wife and grandson. We hope that he makes a full recovery. I know we have had our differences during our childhood and in particular as teenagers.

When I was offered the job in Canada, I thought it would be a good way to keep apart for a short while so we could heal and become closer brothers than we have in the past, and somehow that time has gone from a few years to decades.

I do miss you terribly and also my homeland of Scotland, but this is home for me now and always will be. Please, brother, can we patch up our differences and make peace before it is too late? I hope to hear from you in the near future. Your loving younger brother, David’.

I looked at Gramp’s address book and there was no listing for a David Wellstead, so with the address on the back of the envelope, I picked up the phone to make some enquiries with International Directories. After a few minutes I had a phone number that matched the name and address on the envelope. Looking at my watch it was 5pm in Scotland which made it 9am in BC Canada, so I picked up the phone and dialled the number I was given.

“I was hoping you could help me please. I am trying to trace a Mr David L Wellstead,” I said nervously when the phone was answered. I heard a young voice on the other line shout out, “Dad, it’s someone with a strange accent asking for Gramps.”

I smiled when I heard the comment about the strange accent, and waited for someone to answer. “Hello, this is Michael Wellstead. My father passed away just yesterday. Who is asking after him?” came a voice that sounded half annoyed and half upset.

“Oh, I do apologise. I was unaware of his passing. My sympathies to you and the family. May I ask did your father have an older brother – Alexander in Scotland?” I said in reply forgetting to introduce myself to the man who must be my uncle.

There was a pause on the other line before the reply came. “Yes, yes, he did, and we received news of his passing a few years ago and the more recent passing of his wife. May I ask who you are and what you want?” he demanded.

“My apologies, Uncle Mike. My name is Grant Alexander Wellstead. I am Alexander’s only grandson. I have been living in Scotland for the past six years with my grandparents after the death of my parents and sister in a car crash in Australia,” I replied explaining the reason for the call.

I waited for a few minutes as I heard muffled but loud voices talking. “As far as we are concerned we don’t have any relatives in Scotland. Your grandfather failed to reply to all the letters my father sent to him, pleading for a reconciliation. You can just go away and never contact us again,” was the reply that eventually came, which caught me totally by surprise.

“I’m sorry about what has happened in the past. I had no idea that any other family existed until a few hours ago when I found the letters,” I said hoping to be able to get my uncle to understand, but then suddenly the phone call ended. I was left staring in confusion at the silent phone.

Over the next few days I was kept busy finalising the sale of all the furniture and household goods that my grandparents had collected over the years. Anything that was very valuable I had packed ready to be shipped to Australia.

I had packed my belongings at the apartment a week before and they would be shipped to Australia with everything else. I stayed in a B&B while finalising the emptying of the cottage, and having the apartment put on the market, and the cottage prepared for rental. I also arranged for any mail that was addressed to me or my grandparents to be forwarded to the lawyers in Australia. When all was finally done, I boarded a flight from Edinburgh to Heathrow, and a connecting flight to Australia.

It was so good to be back home in Australia. When I left the arrivals area of the airport I saw a chauffeur holding a sign with my name on it. I nodded to the chauffeur who welcomed me back in Australia and grabbed all my luggage, directing me to where the limo was parked. On the back seat was an envelope with my name on it, and after a few short minuets of relaxing I opened the envelope.

‘Dear Grant,

I hope you had an enjoyable flight. I have asked the chauffer to bring you to my office as I wish to have a brief chat with you before you go to your accommodation.

Regards,

Frank Hills.’

I smiled as I returned the letter to the envelope. I just relaxed and looked at the surroundings as we headed into the central business district. Once at the office building, I made my way to his office which was at the same location when I was there six years ago. The secretary showed me directly into his big plush office.

For the next twenty minutes Mr Hills gave me a brief run down on how the business was going. It was his recommendation to sell the business now while things were going well as future forecasts for business in the trucking industry were not very good. On his recommendations, I agreed for the business to be placed on the market, and just hoped that he would get a good price for it.

I was given some mail that had been redirected from Scotland. One of them was a letter from B.C, Canada. I excused myself and went out to reception to open and read the letter.

‘My dear nephew, Grant,

I do apologise for the way my husband behaved on the telephone when speaking to you, although he was mourning his father. He has been very difficult over the past four years, and unfortunately myself and my son have had to bear the brunt of his anger. When I learnt that the telephone had been disconnected, I presumed you may be preparing to return to Australia, and I am hoping this letter will be forwarded to you there.

A few days after the funeral of your great uncle, my 13-year old son, Lloyd, and I left him. We have been living in another part of B.C. well away from him, and I have filed for divorce. I do hope that you will be able to meet me and your cousin sometime in the future. Lloyd has no other cousins and he is an only child. I think it would be good for him to get to know his older cousin.

Take care and hope to hear from you soon.

Kind regards, Elspeth Wellstead, nee Patterson.’

I was smiling as I returned to the office, and informed Mr Hills that I had some relatives in Canada and that I had been able to track them down. They had written back to me hoping to meet some time in the future. The final bit of business was Mr Hills handing me a big yellow envelope.

On opening it, I saw it contained some legal documents and a set of keys. Mr Hills informed me that this was the deeds and keys for my first own home in Australia. Mr Hills also informed me that I had an appointment next week at the nearby university, with the Dean of Business, to discuss me continuing my university studies at the start of next semester.

Once back in the limo, we left the city and entered the more upper-class areas of the capital, and eventually turned off the main road, entering through a pair of large steel gates and down the driveway to a large single level turn of the century house, with beautiful manicured gardens.

As the chauffer assisted me exiting the limo, a lady appeared from the front door, and much to my surprise and happiness it was Mrs Parkes, my former housekeeper. She gave me the biggest hug ever, and started to cry.

“Forgive me, Master Grant. It has been so long and I am so happy to see you again, even if you are all grown up,” she said trying to wipe away the tears.

“It is wonderful to see you again too, Mrs Parkes. I am pleased that you have been able to continue working for me, even after such a long absence on my part,” I said as we parted from our embrace.

Mrs Parkes instructed the chauffer, Kyle, to place the luggage in the master bedroom, then to return the car to the garage. She then turned to me with a big smile.

“Kyle is my nephew and is your full-time butler and chauffer. He shares the small cottage at the back of the property with me. Please just relax. Go and explore your wonderful new home. Dinner will be ready in two-hour’s time,” Mrs Parkes said and she disappeared into the house.

I followed Kyle into the house which had a very wide entrance hall. I could see two large rooms on each side of the hall before we turned left down a narrower hallway where there were just three doors. The one at the end of the short hall was the master bedroom, which I was surprised to see was quite large with a walk-in wardrobe and a large adjoining bathroom.

When Kyle had placed the luggage in the room and said he would return to assist with unpacking, I sat on the big comfy queen size bed and looked around the room. When I had looked at everything in the room and the bathroom, I decided to explore the rest of the house, firstly looking into the other two doors near mine. There were two bedrooms with a shared bathroom.

Going across the main hall to the other small hall I found 4 more bedrooms and 2 bathrooms. Back in the main hall I returned to the front door, stepping out onto the front veranda to look at the magnificent gardens.

Back inside I discovered a very comfy drawing room to the left and a billiards room to the right. Next to the drawing room was a large music room with a grand piano in the centre of the room, and next to the billiards room was a library. What I didn’t notice before but was later shown, was the folding bi-fold walls that separated the music room from the drawing room, which when opened, provided a very large area for entertaining guests.

Past the two-bedroom wings there were two smaller rooms on each side. The first on the left was an office with a small sitting room next to it. On the right there was just one room, with the wall dividing the two rooms having been removed sometime in the past. This provided yet another living area. At the end of the hall there were double doors that lead directly into a large formal dining room and beyond that was another passage way with the kitchen located to the left, and the pantry, scullery, store rooms and laundry to the right. There was no sign of Mrs Parkes, but there was a lot happening in the kitchen, with something cooking in the oven and a number of pots slowly simmering on the stove.

At the back door, I stepped out onto the back veranda, to see even more gardens. To the left was a huge vegetable garden, an orchard of stone and citrus fruits, apples, and a number of unusual fruits. To the right there were well manicured lawns, a slightly raised wooden decking which surrounded a large spa pool that was covered by a gazebo, and behind that a tennis court. As I explored the gardens closer up, I could see a gap in the hedge along the back, which cleverly hid a large four-car garage, a workshop and a small 3-bedroom cottage plus a more modest small garden and lawns.

The whole property was amazing and I wondered why Mr Hills had gone ahead with buying such a large property for just myself, but after some thought I decided not to complain. I was sure that I could easily afford it, and decided to just enjoy it. Once back in the house, I waved to Mrs Parkes as I passed the kitchen and headed for my bedroom, where I found Kyle had nearly finished unpacking all of my luggage.

So, I just went to the library to look at the collection of books that were on the shelves to see if I could find anything interesting to read.

Time seemed to pass quickly. Before I knew it, dinner was ready, which was signalled by the sound of a small gong which I had noticed in the main hallway just outside the dining room doors. When I entered the formal dining room and saw the one place sitting, with the best of china, silver and glass, I was very annoyed and stormed into the kitchen to speak to Mrs Parkes.

“I will be dining with you both in the kitchen when it is just me, and I will have no arguments about it,” I said and sat down at the kitchen table. Mrs Parkes just smiled and Kyle quickly set out another setting as Mrs Parkes began to serve a beautiful roast dinner for three. During the meal, there was no conversation, and eventually I broke the silence,

“Kyle, I suggest you speak to Mr Hills about getting rid of the limo. I don’t want anything that fancy. What other vehicle do I have?” I said between mouthfuls of roast dinner.

“You have a Bentley 1988 Mulsanne S, a Holden 1962 EK Ute and a Pontiac 1938 Silver Chief. Mr Hills thought they would be great financial investments as well as great cars to ride,” Kyle replied.

I was very impressed with the three cars that Mr Hills had purchased and I was looking forward to trying them out.

“I am pretty tired from all the travelling but look forward to riding in those other cars tomorrow. Maybe we can take the Silver Chief to the university appointment,” I said to Kyle who nodded as he was finishing his dinner.

The next morning after breakfast Kyle had the Silver Chief at the front door when it was time to go for the appointment. The ride in the back was magnificent. I knew I was going to enjoy these car investments very much. The meeting with the Dean of Business Studies went very well. I was enrolled to start in the next semester, and after the meeting I decided to take a stroll around the university campus to get my bearings.

“Grant Wellstead, get your scrawny Scottish arse over here and give me a hug,” came a loud female voice from nearby as I was walking through the landscaped gardens of the campus. I looked around to see who had spoken and saw Julia Crenshaw running towards me. She acted just the same as I last saw her, but she had blossomed into a very beautiful young lady.

“Hello, my dear good friend. It’s good to see you again,” I said wrapping my arms around her and lifting her off the ground and planting a kiss on her cheek. When I let go of her Julia clung on a bit longer before letting herself back down. We sat down on a stone wall nearby to chat.

“When did you get back? What will you be doing now? Have you found a place to live? What was it like living in Scotland?” Julia said firing off a series of questions all at once. I laughed before I began to reply to her questions. “I arrived back yesterday early afternoon. I am enrolled into this university for next semester. Yes, I own a house not that far away and it was good in Scotland with plenty of beautiful locations in the highlands,” I said answering each of her questions in order.

Suddenly I realised there were other people gathered around us, and it took a moment before I realised who they were. All of them were familiar faces and they had huge grins on their faces as it clicked who they were. I stood up to give Danny and his brother Sam, and Mark and his brother Toby, all a big hug and shake the hands of each of them. Then we fell into a big group hug.

“So, my long-lost friend, where is it that you live, and when are you inviting us?” Toby asked. “Honestly, I’m not exactly sure. My business manager organised the purchase, and I was driven to and from the place yesterday and today. Apparently, my business interests have done very well while I have been away, and so my business manager decided I needed a top-quality place to live.”