Chapter Thirty-Six
Clem was beginning to burn the candle from both ends but it couldn’t be helped. The September show was looming, she still hadn’t found a solution for the castle, and any minute now the police might show up and arrest Otto for being an international art forger.
She had had such high hopes for today, but yesterday’s phone call with Aster had rubbed that out. Back when the sisters had been giving their suggestions for money-making schemes, Aster had suggested a company that specialised in small energy-generating schemes. Clem had got in touch, explained who she was and where she was and she had a very enthusiastic call back and a site visit was arranged for today.
From everything that the man had said on the phone, her land would be perfect for a micro hydroelectric plant; it would be up in the hills and out of sight and would passively generate loads of electricity that in turn would generate a whole load of income for the estate every year. All by simply harnessing the flow of her highland rivers.
She should have known it was too good to be true. When she called Aster yesterday to ask if she could think of any smart questions, Aster reminded her that she had done some follow up research and the scheme was a non-starter. If Clem had read Aster’s e-mails she would have known all about it.
‘Is it just people being difficult?’ she’d asked, but Aster said that having looked at their concerns, she agreed that they were valid. Flooded pastureland, drained arable fields. Disturbance of the water table.
‘The idea in principle is solid and the claims for the amount of electricity generated and money made are accurate, but it’s so close to several farms and villages that it would have a direct impact.’
‘But it’s up in the hills away from anyone!’ Clem had protested; that sort of money would easily support the castle on an annual basis.
‘Yes, but rivers run downhill. And the one they are proposing damming supports lots of local farms and communities.’
Clem had hung up dispirited and promptly called the company. They, on the other hand, weren’t dispirited at all and reassured her that technology had moved on and that they might be able to consider something else. So the meeting was still on. When she had spoken to Mr McKenzie about it the previous week, he shared the concerns that had been raised in the feasibility report, but agreed that a second site visit could do no harm. It was arranged that Mr McKenzie and the company representative would head up in the first Land Rover and Clem would follow behind. She was becoming twitchy about the collection and wanted to spend every second on it. Mr McKenzie knew what was what: she was simply coming up to see the site and then get back to work.
At nine o’clock sharp a shiny new BMW drove into the courtyard and two men stepped out. Clem had been in the middle of fitting a zip and had not been best pleased when Otto knocked on her door, but now she stepped out into the sunshine, smiling and putting on what she hoped was her most winning smile.
A well-dressed, good-looking sort stepped forward and shook her hand. It was a firm handshake and he looked her straight in the eyes as he introduced himself as Michael Jones, the person she had been arranging this with on the phone. He complimented the castle, her foresight, the weather and even Kaiser as he hopped past. Michael was clearly a salesman.
‘Rescuing cats is such a kind thing to do; otherwise I guess their lives would be over. Kaiser was obviously a step away from the dog food factory.’
He bellowed loudly and Clem stared at him in astonishment.
‘Was that some sort of joke?’
Perfect blond hair and shining blue eyes go a long way in terms of being a good salesman, but a mouth that can’t shut up was not a great asset. Realising he had missed his mark, he rapidly apologised and introduced the man by his side. He was an older man in a wax jacket with bulging pockets; his boots looked like they had walked most of the miles in Scotland and Clem was pleased to notice that his laces didn’t match. A hard-working man who got on with the job.
‘And this is John Giles, our surveyor. He’ll be able to look at the site and tell us exactly what can be done and what the impact will be. It’s essential that everyone is happy.’
Clem thought John didn’t look happy and was about to say so when Mr McKenzie came out of the site building and joined them.
‘Hello again, Mr Giles. Has anything much changed since last time?’
‘Nope.’
Which was all that he said until they reached the top of the hill where the new turbine had been previously proposed. As Clem arrived, the three men were already out of the car and walking along the riverbank. Clem parked up her car and looked at her feet in mild embarrassment. She had known she would need wellies for this site visit; it was just a pity that she still hadn’t replaced the unicorn set with all the rude words scribbled on them. It was hardly a professional look.
As she walked towards them, Mr McKenzie looked at her footwear. He had seen them already and wasn’t as appalled as the first time, but his expression was still carefully blank.
Minus one house point, thought Clem. Instead, rather than commenting on her footwear she would just brazen it out. It’s not like she cared what they thought anyway. Well, she cared about Mr McKenzie but that couldn’t be helped.
The track from the main road had been dry and bumpy but clearly well used and as she looked around she could see why. The river fell in a few sections, at each drop there was a collection of large boulders, and she could almost hear the screams of delight as people would jump off them into the fast-flowing river. No doubt they would be swept into the next set of rocks, where they could clamber out and then jump into what looked like a deeper but slower section of the river. There were grass banks along with the occasional rowan tree growing beside some of the rocks. Another place to run and jump in. She wondered how cold the copper-coloured lochs were.
‘Lady Clementine! Isn’t this location incredible? There can’t be anyone around for miles and miles.’
‘And yet this scheme will apparently still have an impact on the people down in the glen?’
‘Well possibly, John?’ Michael called out to his surveyor who was working further along the riverbank. ‘What can we do to mitigate that?’
‘Nothing,’ said the surveyor as he continued to measure the depth of water in the pools under the rocks, and drop various instruments in the river itself.
‘Ah now,’ said Michael, pointing out to Clem what the surveyor was doing. ‘See, he’s measuring the flow rate. This river zips along, and all we would do would be to easily harness it. Just imagine every day you are down working on your lovely castle or sailing in the Med, or sunning yourself in Aruba, your river up here is quietly making electricity and will do for hundreds of years to come. This is the sort of project that will set up not just your children but also their children and their children as well.’
God, it sounded so wonderful. Nick kept harping on about long-term income. Imagine if Clem could offer something that would last for generations. Instead, it was looking more and more likely that she was going to have to host rich, obnoxious tourists. The ￡200,000 they had made hadn’t lasted long. Once they had paid all the associated bills; excursions, food, staff and transport, the rest had been quickly gobbled up by the plans for rewiring the castle. And that was even before they upgraded the kitchen. Was there a way to make this electricity project viable?
‘Yeah, that sounds great but what about the people who have objected to the scheme?’
Michael smiled at her reassuringly. ‘Glad you asked. I had a look at it and I have to say the compensation levels that were offered last time were pretty derisory. I think we could definitely offer a better compensation package.’
‘But that would be a one-off payment, wouldn’t it? And you just said this scheme would run for generations?’
The salesman pursed his lips and nodded, frowning thoughtfully. ‘True, true, you could consider setting up a limited company and making them shareholders. That way they would always profit from the revenue. If they lose money on crop production, then they might gain more in electricity production.’
He smiled widely as if he had just proposed the perfect solution, and Clem was tempted to agree.
‘Mr McKenzie, what do you think? Would people be interested in that?’
‘Maybe, maybe not. Although I note his company is prepared to pay an upfront compensation, but he’d expect you to take a cut from your own profits for any ongoing shareholder scheme.’ He turned to Michael. ‘Unless I misunderstood you?’
Without missing a beat, Michael smiled and nodded as if he hadn’t just been called out.
‘Well the devil’s always in the detail. It was just an idea I had but I do think it’s worth pursuing, don’t you, Lady Clementine?’ said Michael, sidestepping Mr McKenzie’s observation.
Clem started to ask more questions, but her attention had been hijacked by a familiar Land Rover bumping along the track.