Travelling Light

By Jim Gardner

In order to escape the escalating hassle Joe and Helen rent an apartment in a down market area, and as a result of living in such squalor Joe falls ill. Fortunately having recovered from the illness Joe recognises the futility of such a measure and they both move in with Helen’s parents

Amid a rancorous divorce Joe figures he needs to be ahead of the game and rather naively decides to moves his money abroad. This leads to frequent excursions to Switzerland, France and America and on each occasion they come into contact with some very strange individuals. To add to their woes they have left behind two distraught spouses and six children, all of whom cannot comprehend why they have simply up and left. As a consequence each individual deals with the break up in a different manner
Difficult emotional and financial decisions lead to uncertainty and eventually mental fatigue. Tired of living out of suitcases and dealing with an acrimonious divorce they decide to settle down in Spain; and within a month of landing they buy a house and invest in land. At this point Joe and Helen are introduced by their Spanish Lawyer to what’s termed black money and all it represents. Joe as expected is comfortable dealing in black money while Helen remains unsure. With the arrival of friends and family high jinks and misdemeanours ensue and on each occasion Joe pushes the boundaries. Despite they remain resolutely in love with each other. Question is will it last?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jim Gardner
• Release date: May 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301211258

Jim Gardner

height5/9; weight 80k; balding i have no children. I have been in business for 20 yrs during which I have owned around six companies at one stage or another. These days I live with my long term partner.I Started to scribble around 15 yrs ago. To date I have written 4 books. 2 of the books have been as a ghost writer and the other 2 are about my ideas, observations and my views

Book preview

Travelling Light

By

James Gardner

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED

BY

James Gardner at Smashwords

Travelling Light

Copyright 2020 by James Gardner

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO 4 SPECIAL GIRLS

TABLE OF CONTENT

RECOMMENDED ACCOMPANYING MUSIC

ERIC CLAPTON ‘TRAVELLING LIGHT’

1 Customs

2 Private Banking

3 Mozzies

4 Razzles

5 Salsa in Glasgow

6 Bob the builder

7 Help

8 Mr Nice

9 The Soprano’s

10 The Female of the Species

11 The Village People

12 Paul the perv and the Calamari Kid

13 Travelling Light

14 The Boy’s are back in town

15 Viejo Zorru

Chapter 1

Customs

With the passing of time, Helen and I recognised we’d be hunted down and held to account for the array of double-dealing we’d become embroiled in. With this at the forefront of our minds, we moved into a dodgy, germ infested apartment. How on earth we didn’t immediately recognise the place was a hovel in the first instance baffles me to this day. Stevie Wonder could have seen the kitchen, lounge settee and beds were filthy, as a result, I developed a chest infection.

Under normal circumstances I’d quite simply grin and bear the pain, not so on this occasion. It got so bad Helen had to rush me to the hospital, where, after a series of tapping and prodding I was diagnosed as having a lung infection. Given I was a millionaire; I have to ask myself, why did I insist we live in a germ invested dive. Where was my head? Well, although I confess to not knowing exactly where my head was, events in the near future would dictate I wouldn’t have a similar same problem with regards to my nose; let me explain.

It all began with an innocuous night at the pub, when for one reason or another Helen and I had been discussing our good and bad physical features. I was, of course perfect and Helen, apart from the small bump on her nose, likewise. We’d obviously had one too many otherwise we would not have in a million years concluded it would be a good idea if she had a nose job.

Next morning, Helen resurrected the nose conversation, next thing I knew she’d made an appointment with a specialist. The consultation went well and we were assured that for the princely sum of £1500, her nose job could be carried out within the week. The only fly in the ointment was we couldn’t bear to be apart and given I also had a very slight bump on my nose I decided to keep her company.

We explained our situation to the specialist, parted with £3k in cash and the following week we both checked into Bard Hall private hospital. Suffice to say, we emerged the following day, looking like the aftermath of a pile up on the M6. For the next two weeks stayed under the radar venturing out only in search of food. Unfortunately, we had kids to tend to and as you can imagine when they set eyes on us they were horrified.

Apart from the resulting pain of ‘operation noses’ living in the grotty flat was becoming a nightmare leading Helen to make a quick phone call to her parents and once again we were back in the sublime and unashamed luxury of Joe and Beth’s home. They welcomed me like the prodigal son. Hardly surprising I had no problem with that. I loved their lust for life and generosity and the fact they were the only people who’d ever really cared about me did not go unnoticed.

With regards to my pending divorce, my long-term lawyer was struggling to give me correct advice. The situation required specialist knowledge and ever careful with regards to breaking Law Society rules he suggested I speak to his partner, Paul Panatonelli.

Paul Panatonelli was the guy who’d saved me from going to jail for punching the Aberdonian sheep shagger and though in the past he’d proved he was an extremely competent lawyer; problem was he lived less than two streets from Janice. Clearly this was too close for comfort, and so I turned to my erstwhile financial whiz kid David Heeley, alias the Milky Bar Kid, in the hope that he might come up trumps.

David had come a long way since the early days and was now a big-time net worker. Seemed to me if anyone had an answer it was him. Transpires he knew the very boy for the job. Jack Mc Flintlock was his name and corpulence was his game. An extremely large and overweight man, Jack was an aviation enthusiast, although I suspect it’s safe to say the only aeroplane capable of accommodating Jack would have been a Jumbo. He was a lawyer of high standing in the City of Edinburgh.

After our first meeting I’d been furnished with enough information to conclude that fighting Janice in court wasn’t an option. Not only would it cost me a small fortune, I’d have no guarantee of winning. The decision to cut my losses and say goodbye to big Jack was made easier by the fact that his fees were ridiculously exorbitant. He may have been a high flier, but at £500 per hour I wasn’t prepared to buy the ticket, let alone board his plane.

Having discussed the matter with my other half, we agreed it made sense to gather and remove all and any assets from the U.K. and with this in mind I contacted my man in Switzerland. He seemed unusually vague over the telephone and when pushed to explain why he was talking in an impenetrable jargon of coded words he asked if I’d wait until midnight, then call him on his private line.

Transpires the guy we’d met on our initial visit to the bank had ill advised us with regards to who should be given power of attorney in the event of a mishap. Alas he’d since (for one reason or another) resigned leaving me and my account stranded up shit creak without a paddle.

The new man in charge had only recently received a letter from a judge in Scotland requesting information regarding my financial affairs and a quick check on my details had unearthed the faux paux regarding power of attorney.

Back home, although aware of the dangers of staying with Joe and Beth we remained reluctant to move. We’d been having such a nice time that we just kept postponing the inevitable, anyway where would we go. I recognised that if we were to consider purchasing a house, I’d need proper credentials and in order for me to achieve this we produced a four-point game plan.

No 1. Before buying a house, we would need to employ a new conveyancing lawyer and via a well-known Estate Agent, we met the very boy. He knew the business inside out and provided we were prepared to soothe his ever so inflated ego, he would deliver.

No 2. If we were to halt the existing paper chase, I would need to adopt a new identity, this being the case, it made sense to change only my surname. Joe after all, is a very common name and one I am not likely to forget.

I further reasoned that to have the name Joe Wallace could be beneficial, after all, any mail sent to me via Joe and Beth’s house would never raise suspicion if it were addressed to Mr J Wallace! A deeper understanding of the advantages unearthed the fact that history could be created if, as I suspected the electricity bills and gas bills came in under the name of Mr J Wallace i.e., Helen’s dad.

No 3. I realised I’d need more than one form of identification if I were to conduct a new business and nothing could surpass a new bank account, driving license and passport. In this day and age of terrorism, illegal immigration and drug smuggling you’d be forgiven for thinking a change of name was difficult, not so.

Bizarre as it may seem, I simply made the necessary enquiries, filled in the corresponding paperwork and was dumbfounded at how easy the entire process was proving to be. A visit to the City Chambers to facilitate the signature of a city councillor was my first port of call and although a mite unnerved, I needn’t have been, it wasn’t a problem. The city councillor I spoke to that day was in such a hurry to get away for lunch, he signed the form without asking who I was, or why I was changing my name. Signing over, I duly dispatched the paperwork to the passport office and within the week I received a new bona fide passport confirming I was now officially Mr J Wallace.

Next thing to do was change the name on my driving license. This I did by simply sending my driving license to Swansea, complete with the obligatory photos and a request to change of name and low and behold was pleasantly surprised to receive a new license.

Having made enquiries regarding the easiest type of bank account to open, I took myself off to the Clydesdale where I filled in the appropriate forms using Joe and Beth’s address as my residence. I further, produced an old electricity bill by way of proof of being the householder and hey presto! I’d a new bank account.

Opening the account had been so easy, I figured I might as well open some more and by the end of the week I’d opened two new bank accounts and two new building society accounts. I appreciated that in the near future I would be returning from Geneva with mucho dinero, much of which would be distributed between all the accounts.

No 4. I’d have to work out a way to bring cash back from my Swiss bank account.

With the necessary facilities now in place, I figured it was high time we paid a visit to God’s country. We’d mentioned this in passing to Joe and Beth and weren’t at all surprised when they pleaded to come along. In order to appreciate the following scenario, I first have to describe in detail what Joe and Beth were all about.

Joe was a 70 plus retired dentist and wonderful raconteur who’d been gifted with a marvellous ability to flower the English language. A pillar of the community, Joe was the personification of what you’d expect an old Scottish gentleman to be. He’d hardly ever spoken to a policeman, let alone been given a parking fine, consequently when we announced we were off to Switzerland he’d absolutely no idea why, he simply figured we were going on holiday and he and Beth were jumping on the band wagon.

Beth was a glamorous 65-year-old grandmother and housewife. Similar to hubby, she was an upstanding pillar of the community and excellent bowls player. She was also oblivious to the real reason for our swarray, which in itself made me feel bad. A few days before leaving I decided to come clean and offered a full explanation of why we were jetting to Geneva.

I explained chapter and verse everything that had happened since meeting their daughter and sat back and waited for a response; I needn’t have worried. Although desperate to come along for the ride, both confirmed their unbending resolve never to break the law and with that we popped some champagne and raised a glass to our forthcoming adventure in Toblerone city –Geneva.

Chapter 2

Private Banking

Holidays with Joe and Beth were always fun and this one was to prove no exception. The only slight fly in the ointment being we’d chosen to visit Geneva in the middle of an Aids convention and as a result accommodation was scarce. Undaunted we hailed an airport taxi, headed into the city and attempted to check into our usual haunts, only to discover there were no rooms.

As with all dilemmas requiring brain instead of brawn, Helen was called upon to find suitable accommodation and this she did with consummate ease. Her talent for negotiating difficult situations was the stuff legends are made of and if truth were told the woman really should have been in the diplomatic core; however, I digress.

Geneva was as beautiful as ever. The city always afforded the breath of fresh air we were searching for and to enhance things Joe and Beth were having a ball. In between having fun, I paid a visit to my friendly bank manager, after all that’s the reason we’d come to Switzerland

As expected, I was subjected to the familiar bureaucracy that is banking, however one hour later I left the premises with £200,000k in cash, stuffed inside the lining of my jacket. At that juncture all was fine and dandy, however the minute we returned to our hotel room reality kicked in. The trepidation of passing through customs carrying a substantial amount of cash left us feeling a mite disconcerted and to be perfectly honest, although I was outwardly portraying a macho image, inside I was terrified.

On the eve of our departure, having enjoyed fine wine and dining we said our good-nights to Joe and Beth. It was time to hit the hay, we did have an early start in the morning.

Who did we think we were fooling? There wasn’t a hope in hell of us getting some shut-eye; we were far too uptight to sleep. Three hours later, still wide-eyed, we decided to have a dress rehearsal and in doing so discovered that hiding such a huge amount of cash was easier said than done.

No matter how we cut it, we just couldn’t secrete that amount of cash, until Helen came up with a dash of creativity. Her idea was for me to remove the insoles from my boots and replace each with a £50K wad. Not rocket science, nevertheless practical, or so I thought.

With the money neatly in place, I hauled on my tacketty boots and tried to walk around the room; I failed miserably. My feet were sore and I looked as if I’d been riding a horse or shit my pants. Unperturbed, I reduced the amount to £25k per shoe, removed my thick socks and tried again, BINGO! With a little pain and slight adjustment to my balance I felt confident I’d manage to at least walk through the airport without people thinking I’d some sort of impediment. £50K was then hidden in my ski trousers and ski jacket pockets and the remaining £50k scattered in and around my royal blue long Johns.

This arrangement was far more conducive to my way of thinking. Helen did a similar thing; although instead of removing her insoles, she slid the money down the side of her knee length boots. As for the remaining £10K, it was evenly distributed between the pages of her diary. Dress rehearsal over; we lay on top of the bed and slept until morning.

Joe and Beth, having never been involved in such a clandestine operation remained oblivious to the perils surrounding them, choosing instead to treat the whole escapade as no more than a game. Indeed, despite Joe’s previous insistence on playing no part in our dangerous liaison, he began pleading with me to take part.

Reluctantly I agreed and duly handed him £10K. I further told where to hide the money and warned him that the eyes and ears of the authorities would be on him from the moment we arrived at the airport, until we touched down in Glasgow. Beth on the other hand was reluctant to take the remaining 10K. She wasn’t cut out for a life of skulduggery and to be perfectly honest I felt sure if we had given her a wad of cash, she’d have gone out of her way to inform the authorities!

Aware of the consequences, we carried out a final rehearsal check before loading the luggage into the taxi and heading for the airport. The moment we arrived, we checked in, passed our luggage through the conveyor system and made our way towards the dreaded security.

Before hand everyone had been made aware the Airport security was activated the moment we walked through the front doors and that it was important to watch and listen for the tiniest of clues that we’d been rumbled. Fortuitously till now things were going according to plan, until that is, Joe’s pre-occupation with his new found wealth kicked in.

For reasons known only to himself, he suddenly produced the £10k from his top pocket and began fanning his face as we travelled along the escalator, followed by and I quote; it really is rather hot don’t you think? It beggared belief that the daft old bugger was playing games with our lives.

Hindsight being 20/20 it’s easy