try.’
Anne struck Adrian as being trustworthy and efficient and, best of all, someone who had invaluable experience with Ethiopians, yet he still worried. It was such an amazing PR stunt, it just had to succeed, no matter how crazy the rest of the world might think it. But he understood that if the nurse couldn’t organize things in Korem in his absence, then his dream was in serious danger. Everything hinged on her finding the right person.
‘And, of course, you’ll come to London as well?’
She looked doubtful, almost panicked. ‘It will be hard for me to get away.’
‘But, Anne, you have to. We couldn’t do this without you.’ It was a huge admission for Adrian to make. He was a man who considered anything was possible so long as he himself was involved; other people did not usually feature.
‘Well, I do have a sister in Yorkshire whom I haven‘t seen for over 20 years, so it would be nice to visit her.’
‘There you go then. It’s settled.’ But he sensed her hesitation.
He returned to London to sell his idea to James Balcombe. He didn’t foresee any problems in that area; the executive director of Africa Assist was an ineffectual, even weak man, who was more interested in the social introductions that arose from working for a well-known charity than in any good it might achieve for strangers barely existing on some far-off continent. He did have a heart, but in the main his feelings were a little abstract and easily ambushed when not directly involving himself.
At the end of his first day back at work, however, before discussing the matter with anyone else, Adrian spoke to his partner at Talcott & Burles.
He explained to Jack Talcott how greatly affected he had been by his visit to Ethiopia, never before having understood either the scale or the horror of the famine. ‘Neither Live Aid nor Band Aid really brought home to me the sheer size of this humanitarian disaster. And that’s important, Jack, that word, humanitarian. Remember, we’re talking human beings here; that old cliché, about people not being statistics. It’s too easily forgotten by all of us, myself included.’
Jack Talcott respected his partner too much either to interrupt him or to argue with him – at least not before he’d had the opportunity to put his case. He nodded, said nothing, and topped up both glasses of wine.
‘I was genuinely moved by what I saw – and you of all people know what a cynic I am.’
‘I certainly do.’
Adrian told his partner about Anne Chaffey, and what she’d told him, and the impact of her words. ‘At first I didn’t take in what she said, but it obviously sank in somewhere.’ He changed the subject suddenly. ‘Remember how we were talking about the Tobu World Square theme park a few months ago?’
‘That place in Japan where they’re going to have more than 40 World Heritage sites, and over 100 perfect replicas of world-famous architectural works and ancient monuments?’
‘That’s right. All on a scale of 1/25. The Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, the Leaning Tower of Pisa and the Taj Mahal, Big Ben and the Great Wall of China, the Pyramids and the Parthenon, St Peter’s Basilica and the White House – they’ll all be there, in the park, when it opens in the 1990s.’
‘And the sites are going to be populated by around 140,000 miniature people, each just three inches high.’
‘Correct.’
The Lilliputian figurines especially appealed to Adrian because of the way they’d bring an instantly understandable scale to the project. ‘The theme park means that, instead of travelling around the world to see these marvels, the Japanese will be able to drive a few miles out of Tokyo and photograph themselves against each of them, all on the same day. It’ll be easier, quicker and less expensive than visiting the originals. Which is quite something – if,’ he added with a smile, ‘you’re into that kind of thing.’
He stopped pacing the room and, standing directly in front of his partner, said: ‘Imagine if we could do the same as the Tobu World Square Park for Africa Assist?’
Jack looked blank. ‘I don’t follow.’
‘What if we brought a starving person to London? If we placed the reality of Africa right on our own front doorstep? Instead of Londoners going to Africa, which only a few people ever even consider, why not bring Africa to London? Just as the Japanese will be doing with all of the world’s great tourism icons. That would really make people sit up and take notice.’
Jack became enthusiastic. And Adrian thought, this is a great idea if only because everyone believes it’s a great idea. Even though he’d only explained it to Anne and Jack so far, both of them had immediately seen its potential. He then made a request of his partner that he didn’t expect to be a problem, but it had to be asked. ‘I want to take a month off. I want to become a full time consultant with Africa Assist. I want to run this operation from within their organization. Can you do without me for that amount of time?’
His partner laughed. ‘You’ll hardly be missed. We probably won’t even notice your absence.’
‘Thanks, Jack.’
‘But has James Balcombe agreed to you doing this?’ Jack knew how easily his partner was carried away by sudden enthusiasms.
‘Not as yet. I wanted to speak to you first. That’s my next task.’
Adrian wasn’t at all surprised when James Balcombe struggled to get his head around the idea; the thinking was too outside the box. He watched him puzzle over the implications of what he’d been told, like a child listening to a teacher explaining the principles of algebra for the first time. When he spoke, eventually, it was with his usual ponderous, almost carping tone of voice. James didn’t do enthusiasm; he preferred looking for problems.
‘I’m being totally honest when I say this: it worries me sick.’ (Adrian knew of his client’s inclination to speak in hyperbole.) ‘I’m not sure you understand the implications of what we could be letting ourselves in for here.’ (Adrian also knew of his client’s inclination to miss the whole point of an argument.) ‘This could all go horribly wrong, Adrian. We can’t afford to damage our reputation, you know. Africa Assist is highly regarded amongst the people who count. There’s never been even a whiff of scandal attached to our name.’
Adrian did his best to reassure. ‘Everything will be all right. Trust me, James. This is going to be the biggest thing you’ve ever done. It could be bigger than Live Aid.’
‘That’s absurd. I’d remind you Geldof raised millions of pounds.’
‘I still think we could be bigger.’ As he said it, Adrian wondered if he wasn’t being wildly optimistic. But he knew that only if he appeared to be without a scintilla of doubt would he receive the necessary backing from James. ‘On top of which, I want to run the show. One advantage of this is that you can keep the whole thing at arm’s length. If it’s a failure, I’ll be the one who cops all the flak; if it’s a success – as I’m sure it will be – I’m more than happy for you to step forward and receive the plaudits.’
‘That’s all very well…’ There was a ‘but’ in there somewhere, but Balcombe never managed to reach it. Instead he stood up and moved from behind his desk to sit down, with a weak groan, on the sofa next to Adrian. It was an unconscious attempt to show Adrian that
