“So, Mister Ryan Alexander Puddifoot,” said Mary Congrieve as Ryan sat in another large leather Chesterfield chair in front of her impressive desk. “It’s very nice to meet you. Thank you for coming to the office. . . . . Let me start by explaining a few details . . . . about your inheritance and the work we do here at Hussey and Company.”
Ryan was grateful that Mrs Congrieve was a very slow and methodical speaker as he needed a bit of time to take in his surroundings. Everything about her windowless office, and the waiting room he’d sat in for 3 minutes, made him expect to smell musty, stale air.
The rooms closed in nature and ancient looking panelling indicated it should smell a bit damp and mouldy, but it smelled like a very wealthy person’s house. Not perfumed, this wasn’t some cheap spray designed to mask underlying rot, this was the deeply manicured smell you get when you have staff constantly maintaining a high level of hygiene and luxury.
The room smelled wealthy, and the reason Ryan felt he knew what a very wealthy person’s house smelled like was due to his occupation. He had been in various houses and spacious apartments around Europe belonging to some of the richest people on the planet, mainly through an American foundation that regularly hired him. He felt a little uneasy about their aims and objectives but they did pay a very good day rate.
They produced very flattering videos, interviews where they would ask potential donors very manicured questions showing the person in a very good light. Ryan had landed the first job a decade before he went to the bank, he had produced 17 of these interviews that were streamed on the company very private website, Ryan had never seen them.
Mrs Congrieve opened a large well thumbed ledger that lookied to be a hundred years old and ran her finger down a column that Ryan couldn’t see. She glanced up at him and smiled. “Your Aunt Maude Puddifoot.’ said said.
’She was my great Aunt’ Ryan corrected, he didn’t need to interrupt because Mrs Congrieve left a long gap after speaking.
‘I do beg your pardon, Your Great Aunt Maude, of course, forgive me.’ She said looking back to the enormous book on her desk. “Well, she did indeed leave you the sum of £5,000 in a Hussey and Company property investment account in 1947.’
‘1947!’ exclaimed Ryan, he was born in 1985, 38 years later.
‘Yes. That is correct.’ said Mrs Congrieve. ‘She assigned this account to you when you were born.’
‘Wow. Okay’ said Ryan who was simultaneously baffled and pleasantly surprised. There was a short silence, he didn’t know if she wanted him to say something.
‘Would you like to know its approximate value today?’
Ryan’s eyebrows raised involuntarily, he hadn’t considered that £5,000 in 1947 might be worth more today. ‘Yes please.’ he said.
Without missing a beat Mrs Congrieve immediately said, ‘one hundred and sixty six thousand pounds and a few pence, or thereabouts, the total value fluctuates all the time but generally goes up.’
Ryan froze.
That was more than they owed on their mortgage, that was enough to clear all their debts and take a luxury holiday somewhere warm.
‘That’s …… very interesting.’ he said eventually. There followed another long silence as she looked at him intently.
‘Mr Puddifoot, I would now like to explain what we do here at G Hussey & Company.’ said Mrs Congrieve. ‘We are, as you may have ascertained, a private bank.’
Ryan nodded. You didn’t need to be a sleuth to have registered that.
‘Now, you may have heard of other private banks, they offer a more personal service to what are currently described as high net worth clients. They provide nothing particularly special, general banking, tax and investment advice. We do that too, but we are also a very private, very discreet bank with one or two unique financial instruments which, if used carefully and discreetly, enhance the prosperity of our clients in quite substantial ways.’
Ryan nodded and breathed in deeply through his nose. He could feel this was a moment in life, something was unexpectedly shifting around him. He had the distinct feeling that when he left the building he was in, the world, or at least his world, would not be the same.
‘With our help and guidance, and all these decisions are for you to make, you will be under no pressure from us, you can invest some or all of that money in property.’ She paused and could see a flicker of disappointment cloud Ryan’s otherwise very open face for a moment. She raised one hand very slowly.
‘Please know that I understand your reservations. I can see from your current financial situation that you are someone who runs his financial life very carefully. That is something we admire and support. You work hard, earn a decent living, pay your taxes on time, complete your paperwork on time and I think it’s fair to describe you as someone who runs a tight ship.’
Ryan nodded. He had learned early in his career that not keeping up with basic bookkeeping was a bad idea. A man he worked with for a decade, Mike Wallace, had gone bankrupt because he followed the advice of a very questionable accountant who ended up in prison on some very serious tex avoidance charges. Mike was suddenly burdened with an enormous tax bill, had to sell all his kit, his van, his house, he got divorced and still owed many hundreds of thousands of pounds. He was in such a state that none of his old employers wanted to deal with him, his life turned into a nightmare in less than a year.
Ryan had always felt he was only one step away from such disaster, he was a freelancer, there was no salary, holiday pay or health insurance built into his job description. If he didn’t get hired he had zero income.
His only fallback was Hazel, at least she had a salary but it wasn’t exactly enormous and he had often pondered how long she would be happy to support him if it all went Pete Tong.
‘Well, I don’t know anything about investing.’ he said eventually. ‘The sum you mentioned, that would be life changing for us. My wife and I.’
‘Hazel.’ said Mrs Congrieve with a gentle smile.
‘Yes.’ Ryan was initially surprised that she knew his wife’s name and then realised the bank must have done due diligence on a previously unknown client.
‘I understand, and of course we can immediately release the funds, but it is incumbent on my role as a representative of Hussey and Company to at least inform you of the range of services we offer.’
For the first time since he walked into this slightly bizarre office, Ryan’s hackles were up, this was typical of any bank. Bamboozle you with special offers and schemes which sounded sensible but always involved a substantial fee. He was naturally skeptical of the role of banks, they made money by looking after your money, and then they’d charge you money for doing so.
‘I’m probably not interested.’ said Ryan. ‘Through my job I’ve had to listen to far to many people who work in the big towers around here and in Canary Wharf talk about investments and stock prices. It’s just not something that interests me thanks.’
‘That is all well and good Mr Puddifoot and perfectly reasonable, but I still haven’t explained the full picture of your inheritance. You’re Great Aunt didn’t leave you five thousand pounds in cash back in 1947. She had invested the money in property for you. So, as I said before, due to 78 years of inflation that five thousand pounds would indeed be worth over one hundred and sixty six thousand pounds today. But due to the fact that the money was spread around three different properties in London and one in Edinburgh, the combined total value of those properties is, how should I put this, considerably more.’
Ryan realised that Mrs Congrieve was enjoying this moment, she could have told him this information as soon as he walked through the door. He shook his head. ‘Okay, I understand that, so what does that mean. I own four houses?’
‘Well, the trust company you have inherited owns them, their combined value today is…’ she ran her finger across the large ledger, her finger stopped, he saw her eyebrows raise a little. ‘Goodness me, just over six million pounds.’
Ryan felt the words ripple through his body as if they were making chemical changes to his very being. ‘Six million.’ he replied.
‘Yes Mister Puddifoot. In one particular case, an apartment in Belgravia, at 16, Wilton Crescent. your great Aunt paid eleven hundred guineas for the property immediately after the war in, March, 1946. That was a great deal of money at the time. Obviously the property is in a very salubrious area. Using other similar properties in the vicinity as a guide, this quite modest two bedroom apartment is now worth over three million pounds.’
Another silence as Ryan tried to take in this utterly life changing information. He thought about the job he had agreed to do the following day, a women’s league football match in Colchester. He would be paid the glorious sum of nine hundred pounds to operate a pitch side camera for 3 hours.
That was his job, that’s what he’d been doing for almost thirty years, and suddenly it sounded pathetic. He owned a flat in Belgravia worth three million quid.
‘I’d like you to take your time, this represents a vary major change in your life Mister Puddifoot. I would also ask you to keep what you have learned today very much to yourself. We ask that you do not discuss this with anyone until they too have been to meet with us.’
‘You mean my wife?’ asked Ryan, incredulous that they would suggest such a thing. He would never claim that he and Hazel had the perfect relationship, but they were always very honest with each other, he could not think of one secret he had kept from her.
‘Indeed I do mean your wife.’ said Mrs Congrieve very clearly. ‘Our clients are very particular about who has access to the services we provide. Here at Hussey and company we take pride in fanatical discretion, so we have to be sure.’ She paused and stared at Ryan, unblinking and just a little threatening. ‘We will need a letter from her in much the same way as your great Aunt explained you should do. We need to be sure that Hazel can be brought into our circle of trust.’
Ryan realised that discussing this with Hazel had not been something he’d thought about, he recalled that when he found his great Aunt’s letter he hadn’t said anything to Hazel about it, he hadn’t thought about it but he now had kept a secret from her. This warning about not telling her until the bank felt it was safe to do so did something he’d never experienced before. He felt a little removed from Hazel, for the first time in the over twenty years they’d been together.
‘There is one more thing I want you to understand before you go Mister Puddifoot.’ she said as she could sense he was about to leave. ‘Here at J Hussey and Company we are unique, this is the only bank that runs what is called a prevestment strategy.’
‘A what?’ asked Ryan. He’d heard all manner of weird financial instruments explained when he filmed interviews in the city for various business channels. All of it sounded like posh gambling to him, dressed up in fancy words and obscure phrases, but he’d never heard the word prevestment used
‘The slogan for our specialised investment vehicle is simple to understand Mr Puddifoot. Hussey and Company know you cannot go back in time, but your money can.’
Definitely hooked! Take my money!
Getting more intriguing by the episode. Excellent 👏