Chapter 22

On Tuesday morning, she rang Wendy at work, to let her know that she was at the apartment. She had rung home fairly regularly to let them know how things were getting on with the tour. She was having breakfast in the restaurant when Ted came in.

“Good morning, Willow. How was the tour? Carlo sent you an invoice at the beginning of the month and wondered why you hadn’t paid, so I told him you were on the other side of the world and were good for it.”

“The tour went well, thank you. I’ll get Carlo to tell me what he wants, and I’ll pay it now.”

When she got back to the table and sat down, Ted smiled.

“I’ve spoken to your lecturer, Terry. He’s an old student of mine. He says that you’re a stand-out in this year’s intake.”

“It’s still only early, Ted. I have to finish off the two projects to submit this week and do both the module exams. I spent most of my free time in Australia working on them but need to go to the Senate Library to double-check a few things.”

“I’ll drive you there on both days, as I need to talk to a few other people as we gear up for the last part of the year. I’m sure you’ll present a good pair of propositions; he was very pleased with your first project. He wants to talk to you about it on Thursday, after you’ve finished the exam. I’m invited to join you for lunch, and the venue is very swish, so wear something nice. It’s the Tudor Pass at Great Fosters. That’s a stately manor that’s run as a hotel, with the restaurant having less than ten tables and a Michelin Star. Don’t ask me who’s invited us, as it's all very hush-hush.”

After breakfast, she walked to the Senate Library and did her research, glad to be home again and using her time to further her knowledge. One of the problems with having a mind like hers was that it needed constant stimulation. That day, and the next, she added her graphs and projections to the first project. Once again, she had thought outside the box, and had suggested some radical changes to make the business viable. She was glad that she wasn’t doing this work for real, as most companies would probably just put her things in a bin, but, for a college project, you’re supposed to use your imagination, as long as it stayed within the bounds of possibility.

The second project was more out of her brain than the others. She had ended up writing an essay, laying out the basic facts about her ending up owning an industrial site with a recording studio, and her plans for the rest of the year with the modifications. The hardest thing was to sit down and list the sort of charges that would have to be made to bring it into the black.

The big shed would be just enough to pay the ongoing costs, so the profit would have to come from studio hire. When she thought about it, charging a thousand an hour, with eight hours a week, over forty weeks, would bring in over three hundred thousand, and any more would be cream on the top. She couldn’t rely on Xavier, as he may be looking for somewhere else, so either a casual operator or a full-time one would need to be factored in.

In the end, she offered three optional outcomes, the first with the shed mainly used by schools and amateur groups, with minimum use of the studio. The second with more studio time and more professional groups in the shed. The third, which she called the ‘Blue Sky Option’, included regular studio work and shed usage, which returned around one and a half million a year. She factored in the free use of the offices by the Arts Alliance and the ‘Legs’ syndicate.

On Thursday morning, she had breakfast with Ted and then got herself ready to be taken to the Royal Holloway campus. She had her laptop in a bag, and her submissions on two USB sticks, in marked envelopes, and her memory of what the exams would entail. At the campus, she gave the first stick to Terry, who took her to a room where she would sit for the exam. Three hours later, she had finished and double checked her answers. Terry sat at a desk, with the USB plugged in, and looked at her project, without saying anything. When his alarm clock sounded, he asked for her papers.

“You know, Miss Rose, you really are a student from heaven. This second project of yours is so far out of left field, it took me some time to work out the logistics of your suggestions. A bit like your first project. I can tell you one thing about our next session of lectures, and that is that you will now be one of five left on the course. It was the third project that has made the difference. Some took on this course without thinking that it was designed for them to make decisions for themselves. They thought that we were going to teach them how to manage a successful role in a successful business, not that they may want to do something of their own.”

“I had no preconception, sir. Whichever way it went, I was happy to learn.”

“Are you ready for the next test?”

“I am, sir.”

“Do you have your project with you today?”

“In my bag.”

“How would you like to sit it this afternoon? That way I can look at them and get a week off before we continue the lectures, next month.”

“That would be fine by me, sir.”

“Right. Now we will be having lunch with one of our clients, who is keen to talk to you, and no, not because of your star status. Take some time to freshen up and meet Ted and I by his car.”

She went to the toilets and got comfortable, then made sure her make-up was right. Outside, in the carpark, she found the two men talking about the joys of being in the teaching game. They got in the car, and Terry directed Ted to the lunch venue.

It was as Ted had described, a mainly red-brick stately home in lush gardens. When they had parked, they went in and found the restaurant, telling the elegantly dressed man at the door that they were the guests of Mister Kelly. He led them into the smallest, but most lavish, restaurant that Willow had ever seen. A man rose from his seat and greeted Terry and Ted warmly, and then turned his attention on Willow.

“Miss Rose. It is an absolute pleasure to meet you. I do have to tell you that my daughter is one of your fans, so I have a knowledge of your fame. I believe that you’ve been in Australia?”

“Yes, sir. We did a tour there, finishing in Tokyo and Seoul. I only got back on Monday so I could finish my projects. I spent time while I was away working on them but needed some information from the Senate Library.”

“Look, sit down, all of you. I’ve ordered four of the seven course tasting meals, so we will have plenty of time to talk. Who’s having a drink?”

They gave the order to the waiter, who asked Willow if she preferred bottle lemonade or freshly squeezed. She asked for freshly squeezed. The gentleman then introduced himself.

“I’m Hugh Kelly, owner and chairman of Kelly Industries, originally based in Manchester. It was my problem that I took to Ted to ask his advice. He passed it on to Terry, who made it the first project in your Certificate course. It was all a real-life case, and one that had baffled my management and finance people for months. As you would have seen from the data I supplied, we’re not a small business, and could afford to wait for a solution to eventuate. That solution happened to be yours, Miss Rose. We did what you suggested, and your projections turned out to be within five percent of the actual results.”

“That’s good to know, sir. I thought that I was being a bit too imaginative with my submission but didn’t know that it was for real. How did the staff that were relocated take it?”

“Hardly any problem. Most knew that they were chasing their tails by trying to run the production without being there but had been afraid of suggesting it. The new production line took a bit of sweet-talking to our bank, but the results are so good, with the bigger sales force, that we’re working on another line.”

“I’m glad that I could help, sir.”

“Enough of this ‘sir’ business. I’m Hugh.”

“In that case, Hugh, I’m Willow.”

“So, Willow, what did you make of the second project? That’s also one of my problems, this time one of the subsidiaries.”

“I used my imagination, Hugh. Terry has been looking at it all morning. Perhaps he can tell you if it works, or not.”

As they ate through the seven courses, Terry outlined Willow’s answers, in quite a reasonable way, or so she thought. Hugh would ask a question, and Willow would expand on her thinking that wasn’t part of the original project. By the time they had arrived at the fifth course, Hugh sat back in his chair.

“What did the others on the course say, Terry?”

“Roughly the same as the first project, Hugh. Lay people off and sit under your rock. Willow has one of the best minds I’ve known when it comes to thinking outside the box. It’s the same with her music. She went from smooth wallpaper music in her first album, to a similar, but more realistic, theme for the second. Then they got progressively rocky, with an abrupt shift with the one about the website quest. I bought the latest album last week, and it’s almost like listening to a soundtrack of a musical. The difference between that and the full, in your face, Berlin show seems like two different bands.”

“I’m told that you raised forty million for charity with your first tour, Willow. Have you found that charity begins at home?”

“With a loop past our manager, Hugh. We did a three-city tour in Europe, and another across the Med, and now this one in Australasia. The logistics are huge, the costs are huge, but the returns are humongous.”

“How much does it cost to put on a show?”

“Usually about a quarter of a million to erect the stage with the sound and vision. Another hundred to two hundred thousand a night for staff and security. Then the venue takes ten percent before we even start talking about transport, hotels, food, our own security, dressers, make-up technicians. To give you an idea, that set of charity shows that raised forty million actually grossed out at around eighty-four million.”

“Now that is serious money! I won’t be so impolite to ask how you’ve fared out of this, but I expect that you’ve done well. Are the rest of the band as level-headed as yourself?”

“We had seven of us in a syndicate, Hugh. Our first property was a fully leased industrial unit in Coventry, which cost under half a million. Our next was the site in Leicester which was more than double that. We had a meeting before the tour, and two of the band bought the Coventry property from the syndicate, and I bought the Leicester one, where we had built our own recording studio. We closed down that syndicate, to put money into another that we had formed with all ten of the band. We own a site in Small Heath with two tenants and are in the process of buying a shopping centre in Manchester with thirty-five shops. Yes, I would say that we’re all level-headed.”

“Is Leicester the subject of your third project?”

“It is, Terry. The projections are very much imaginary, but I hope that my crazier ones become the norm.”

“I’ll be reading that, this afternoon, while you’re doing the third exam.”

“You’re having her sit that, today?”

“We spoke about it this morning, Ted, and Willow is happy to put them behind her.”

“That means that you can relax, Willow, at last.”

“Not just yet, Ted. In two weeks, I’m the orchestra leader in the Albert Hall, performing the Messiah with the school orchestra and singers from the English National Opera. We have a final rehearsal on Wednesday week, and the show on the Saturday. We put Haydn’s ‘Creation’ on in Coventry Cathedral two weeks before we flew to Perth. I’m rather hoping that the Bishop of Coventry doesn’t think of something else he wants us to perform this Christmas.”

“Are there recordings of your orchestral work, Willow?”

“There are, Hugh. The BBC have two DVDs of us in the Cathedral, our label has a double CD of us that was recorded in Abbey Road and Albert hall, and there are now two CDs out with Gina Summer and me playing the organ at Kings College and York Minster.”

“How on earth do you fit it all in?”

“My mother told me that if you want anything done, then you ask a busy person.”

They chuckled and continued to concentrate on the last couple of courses. They were sitting with coffee and cheese when the chef came out and asked Hugh if everything was all right. Hugh said that it was, as usual, magnificent, and introduced his guests. The chef, when told who this pretty girl was, went off to get a camera for a selfie.

Before they left, Hugh reached into his briefcase and pulled out a framed certificate.

“This may not be your final course certificate, Willow, but this is one from me and a very grateful board in recognition of your input. It doesn’t state what you did, as that is all confidential, but I expect to be able to give you another one after Terry sends me your other project answers.”

“Thank you, Hugh. I will treasure this more than all the Gold Records.”

“Not more than the Platinum ones?”

“They’re all on the wall of the studio. This goes on my wall at home and will be in pride of place in my first office.”

That afternoon, she gave Terry the USB stick and sat working on the other exam. When she had finished, Terry took up the papers.

“That project of yours is very interesting. I would dearly love to see this studio.”

“You have my email address, just let me know when you’re coming north, and I’ll take you on a tour. I should be starting the new work soon, but there’s nothing needed to be done in the studio. Hopefully, I can have Christmas at home this year.”

Friday, she spent some time with her keyboard, just playing favourites, and her parents arrived later in the evening. They spent Saturday catching up and went back to Stoneleigh on Sunday. Once again, for Willow, it felt familiar, but odd, to be back in her room, unpacking her cases. She plugged her home laptop into the mains and turned it on. There were a lot of emails. The oldest one being from Peter with the July statement.

Once again, the older material was almost non-existent, with the new releases making up the income. Her share was three hundred and sixty thousand. There was a note to say that the Berlin DVD was racing towards a Triple-Platinum award, with a lot of the sales in Europe and Australia. She asked Peter to transfer three hundred and fifty thousand into the WR Holdings as usual.

There was one from Wilhelm, asking if she could expand on the situation for him with the site changing hands. She replied that everything would stay the same, with him able to continue to act on behalf of the syndicate in the office upstairs, but that the downstairs office would be home to the Arts Alliance, who would manage the big shed once it had been transformed into rehearsal space. She pointed out that her father had organised for the locks to the studio to be changed, and that she would give him a key when she saw him next. She outlined the changes that she had in mind and asked him if he could research tradesmen who could do the work, with the studio builder asked to quote on soundproofing the big shed.

There was one from Xavier, apologetically telling her that he had left school, and was now working as a junior at Abbey Road. He said that Frank and Dave had also left school to work with a small company specialising in videos for bands. Willow replied, wishing him all the best.

There was one from Frank, offering a discount to Summer Rose if they needed a promotional video. That was sent to all the band and Jill. She answered wishing them both well and saying that they would be kept in mind.

There was one from Zara, to tell her that she had also left school, after a blow-up with her mother. She was now living in London, with an aunt, had signed a solo contract with the label, and was rehearsing with a piano quintet. She said that she would be in Coventry for the final rehearsal and would fulfil her orchestral duty at Albert Hall.

Then came one from Garry. He also told her that Zara had left G-Force. He also said that Gerry had left school and joined the Hikers, taking Grant with him, as the Hiker’s drummer had declared that his band wasn’t the same without his friend Alex. Geoff was still in Coventry, but calling Zara every couple of days and looking for somewhere they could live together. So, G-Force was no more. He told her that he was continuing with the higher studies and would be happy to see her in school.

Willow sat back and thought about things. She liked Garry, a lot, but she had a lot of balls in the air, without room for another relationship. There was an email from Jill, sent the day before, telling her that the Berlin DVD had passed Treble Platinum, while the ‘Laptop’ album had gained Platinum. She wanted to host a small presentation dinner in Coventry on the Saturday evening before they went back to school, with their photographer on hand. It was to be smart/casual at one of the city restaurants, and families were welcome. Willow replied with her attendance.

She went downstairs and told her parents about the dinner, and then showed them the certificate that had been presented to her, with it packed away in her case in London.

“That’s beautiful. What on earth did you do to get this?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you. It was some suggestions I had made in my uni project earlier in the year. Everything else is clouded in secrecy.”

“My daughter is now the International Woman of Mystery!”

“That’s about it, Mum. I’ll be keeping this in my room, unless Dad wants to put it on the wall of his office.”

“He’ll love to, I’m sure of it. Where was the presentation?”

“In a Michelin Starred restaurant where the chef wanted a selfie with me.”

She had a full week before school, resting, sorting out her wardrobe, catching up with her laundry, thinking about new songs, and about the tour. She had read the newspapers in Australia and was surprised at how cheap the real estate was when you halved the price to get pounds that she could relate to.

She made an appointment to see Wilhelm in Leicester and called up an Uber to take her there. They discussed the changes that she wanted, spoke to the ladies of the Arts Alliance, who were now nicely settled in, telling them what changes would be taking place and sounding them out about managing the shed when it was finished. They didn’t want to do that, but there was a retired bank manager who worked with the schools and drama groups who they knew would be happy to step into those shoes.

She also took out an advert in the local papers and an internet site for a competent studio operator to run a successful recording studio in the Midlands. On the Saturday, the family went to the restaurant in Coventry, where the whole band received their awards and had a good meal. The others told Willow that the trip back home had been better than the trip out, but not by much, and were all looking forward to some time off. On Sunday, they listened to Jim, who was now happy to be the regular organist, now that his band had broken up.

Tuesday was the first day of fourth year, and also the first Zoom lecture with fewer faces on the screen. At school, the assembly was the usual reporting of great things that the orchestra had done, as well as the big performance coming up on Saturday evening. Wednesday, they ran through the Mesiah with the ENO, and declaring it good to go. That evening, the soloists from the ENO joined them in the club for the Village Choir practise, much to Margaret and her friend’s delight.

Garry had sat with Willow in the lunchroom that day, now that his friends had deserted him, and they spoke about things lost, and things gained. He was happy that he could now work towards uni without any money worries, so, as far as he was concerned, it was all good.

Thursday, there was another statement. The tour had grossed over a hundred and eight million, with nearly nine million in costs. The CD and DVD sales were better, due to the sales in Australasia, with the old CDs making two point three-two million, the DVDs making three point one-five, and the merchandise selling a hundred and forty thousand pounds worth. The new album, released in the middle of the month, had already made over seven hundred thousand. There was a note that the tour returns would have been better if they could have charged the sort of prices that they did in the UK and Europe. Still, each band member received eight million and eighty thousand pounds. She replied to transfer the eight million to the WR Holdings. At this rate, she expected to get an invitation for another band meeting.

Saturday, she was in her long black dress with her violin case and her bag, picked up by the coach, already nearly full of the orchestra. The choir had already started for London. They were taken to the hotel where they had stayed the last time they played at the Albert Hall, checked in and taken to the venue. The truck had arrived with all the instruments.

Willow and Gina sat in the stalls, watching the hustle and bustle.

“Not seen much of you lately outside school, friend.”

“I’ve been pretty busy, Gina, sorting out the studio site and my other studies. How are you going with your quest to find a chateau?”

“That, my friend, is a slam dunk with the payment we got from the tour. We have found a good house near Florence, with a bit of land. It isn’t far into the city to the Centro Studi Musica e Arte, where they can take me further on the piano. I have no idea when we’ll make the move, hopefully in a year or so, but Mum’s keen. It’s warm and the house has a pool. There are fruit trees and vines, and the harvest is picked by locals, who pay for the privilege.”

“You could always hire someone to look after it before you move. You know, it’s all a bit different without some of our friends.”

“It is. It will be interesting to see what the new Hikers come up with. Geoff was the writer in G-Force. If he joins Zara in London, he may end up in her backing band. I think he loves her enough to take a demotion.”

“It does make you think how long we can last. This last tour has given us all the chance to do something magnificent, or something silly. I was wondering if anyone was going to suggest that we buy another shopping centre, or even an aircraft that would take us wherever we want to go. Talking about where to go, I think it’s about time we got our act together for tonight, the team from ENO have just walked in.”

Marianne Gregory © 2025