your father was a close friend and a good man, but he didn’t move with the times. Unless you can give me a sound business plan, some reason why the bank should reinvest, my answer has to be no.’
Henry took a deep breath and looked the smug slug in the eye. ‘I have an idea for a game that will knock Trivial Pursuit, Cluedo and Monopoly into a cocked hat. I can’t say more because our competitors must not get wind of it.’
‘My dear boy, what is it?’
‘I told you, I can’t say. But if I were to offer you my house as collateral, would you let me have the money I need?’
The slug stirred an extra spoonful of sugar into his coffee, thinking.
‘OK, I’ll authorise the loan – but only for six months. After that …’ he continued stirring, his lips curving upward in a smirk, ‘… the bank moves in.’
The relief Henry had felt at securing the loan evaporated at the prospect of this odious man and his bank getting their hands on his home and Carew Family Board Games. Unfortunately there was a major flaw in his new business plan. The top secret game that was going to take the world by storm didn’t exist.
Henry drove back to the factory and locked himself into his father’s old office. How could he have been so rash and stupid? How the hell was he going to invent a blockbuster of a game in a year, let alone six months?
He pulled out the bottom drawer of his father’s desk and found the bottle of Scotch Dad had always kept there. He opened it and put it to his lips with a silent prayer: Dad, I need your help. I’m in the shit and some of it’s your fault. Give me an idea, a way out of this mess.
He sat back in the tilting revolving wooden chair and put his feet up on the desk.
What am I going to do, Dad? I’m going to lose the factory and my home. A hundred people will be out of a job. People who loved you and trusted you. They are expecting me to make everything all right, but I’m afraid I’ve cocked it up. He took another swig of Scotch.
It was some time later when Old Reg, the foreman and longest-serving member of staff, came to say good night. He found Henry, his eyes red from tears, sitting in his father’s chair, the bottle of Scotch half-empty. Reg saw it all and knew without asking that it was only a matter of time before Carew Family Board Games became a footnote in history. Murmuring, ‘Good night, Mr Henry,’ he closed the office door gently behind him.
*
Henry’s brain was in turmoil. Had he committed fraud? Could making a false promise be construed as extorting money from the bank? Would he be arrested? Could he afford a lawyer? What would happen to Dorothy and the girls? Lawyers were expensive. He was only trying to do the best for his workforce, his family. Oh God, he’d go to jail. He’d better get a lawyer.
In a panic, he dug out his father’s old address book and flipped to the ‘L’ tab. His finger traced down the pages.
‘Lawyer, lawyer,’ he muttered under his breath. He stopped for a moment and said the words again: ‘Lawyer, lawyer.’ Feverishly he picked up a pencil and began writing the words, followed by DEFENDANT. JUDGE. JURY. Then he drew two boxes and wrote GUILTY in one and NOT GUILTY in the other.
He phoned home and told Dorothy not to expect him back for supper.
*
The next morning he called a meeting on the shop floor for every member of staff. He hadn’t slept all night, he reeked of body odour and alcohol. They expected the worst.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for giving me your time today. Carew Family Board Games was my father’s proudest achievement. Many of you worked with him and loved him as I did. You miss him as I miss him. I am very grateful that you have remained so loyal to me as I try to fill his shoes. But the truth is, the world is changing and this company is struggling. When arcade games and the Rubik’s Cube came on to the market, my father thought they would be a flash in the pan. “Nothing can beat the fun of a family sitting round the table playing Ludo,” was his mantra.’ Some of the older employees laughed in remembrance of this. ‘He was wrong, though. We are on the brink of insolvency.’
There was a subdued murmur from the group, and then Reg spoke up: ‘Are you shutting us down, Mr Carew?’
Henry swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. ‘I hope not, Reg. I have an idea for a new game. A board game that I think could beat even Monopoly for world sales. The World Toy Fair is four months away: if we can have the new game ready by then, we’ll secure the orders we need to turn this company round – but I need your help and your faith to pull it off. This is the promise I make to you: if I can’t turn this company round in the next six months, I will sell everything I have – bar my house, which is promised to the bank …’ He paused, gulping back the tears that threatened. ‘And I will split the proceeds between you. However, if we make this game a success, you will all become partners, sharing in the profit.’
His workforce stood, incredulous. Some of the older women who remembered the boom years were sniffing into screwed-up tissues. The younger workers looked dumbstruck. In the end it was Reg who stepped forward and asked, ‘What do we have to do?’
*
It took Henry and the team just two weeks to produce the cardboard prototype of Lawyer, Lawyer. Four sets were made and taken home in turn by the Carew workers. Each day they would come in with suggestions, refinements and clearer rules. Finally everyone was in agreement that they had the definitive version. A game of cat and mouse between the law and the citizen. Reg oversaw the first factory-made prototype as it came off the production line.
It was beautiful. The box lid depicted Number One Court of the Old Bailey. In the dock stood a decent but anxious-looking man. On the bench sat a hideous gargoyle of a judge bearing an uncanny resemblance to Henry’s bank manager. And taking the floor was a smart lawyer, thumbs in his lapels and smiling wolfishly at the jury.
Reg carried it with pride to the boardroom and placed it on the elliptical table. The workers came and filed past it as it lay in state.
That afternoon, Dorothy dialled the local Chinese takeaway and ordered a supper for everyone. It was a party not one of them would forget.
On the eve of the World Toy Fair, Henry carefully packed the newly manufactured boxes of Lawyer, Lawyer into the back of his rented Rascal van. Dorothy was already settled in the passenger seat. The entire workforce gathered in the car park to wave them off.
Old Reg leaned in and put his hand on Henry’s shoulder. ‘Good luck, Mr Henry. Your father would be proud of you.’
Henry put the car in gear and drove carefully out of the factory car park, Dorothy waving from the window while he tooted the horn until they were all out of sight.
The World Toy Fair at Olympia was very familiar to Henry. He’d worked a stand there with his father from the time he was a boy. Only when his father fell ill did they stop attending. His death had left Henry without the cash or wherewithal to organise a stand. Now, he found himself looking forward to it. But at the same time he was consumed with nerves.
He glanced at Dorothy and said, ‘What if this doesn’t work?’
She smiled back at him. ‘It’ll work.’
‘We could lose
