Sounds Like Radio Episode 30
Monica heard quickly about the end of Bill’s employment next door, and grabbed him for a new project of her own.
“Kevin has agreed to ask a builder to complete some of our . . . many . . . domestic projects,” she told Cesca in the studio’s office.
“Obviously the work will follow a strict schedule laid out by Kevin, but he promises to restrict himself to three hours of DIY a week.”
“That,” Cesca said, “is revolutionary. Monica, I am thrilled for you.”
Monica laughed.
“This Bill,” she said with a cheeky smile. “He seems competent, but it’s hard to get him off the topic of this beautiful girl he’s started dating.”
“I’m sure that will wear off,” Cesca said.
“I’m sure it won’t.”
The phone rang. Monica excused herself and Cesca answered.
It was the bank manager, calling to say – politely – that Sounds Like Radio’s overdraft facility had been stretched beyond its limits.
“I just wanted to update you,” the woman said. “I spoke to the owner – a
Mr Chopra? He seems, um, rather disgruntled.”
“He’s in Spain, as you know,” Cesca said.
“No, he said he’s in Birmingham. I think he’s going to visit you. Please do get him to call me.”
Cesca put the phone down with a heavy heart.
She could see Gerry and Kevin in the control room on the other side of the corridor, bent over an edit.
In the corridor Miriam was dusting the photos of famous actors who had passed through the doors.
She would have to warn them that the studios might be for the chop.
She felt terrible, especially after the journeys all of them had taken in recent weeks.
They were a team.
Slowly she made her way out of the office, and there was Mr Chopra, wearing the same fawn mackintosh she remembered, a scowl on his face.
“Hello, Francesca.”
“Hello, Mr Chopra. You’re back home to give us news?”
“I’m home because I got sick of losing at golf.”
“Oh.”
“Marbella is full of young dudes. I hate young people, except my grandchildren, and you.
“They sprint about the golf course scoring birdies all over the place.”
He swept past Cesca and into the office, where he sat in her chair.
“Living out there seemed like a good idea at the time, but lately my wife has started going on about wanting a good Balti.
“She says Birmingham’s the only place for proper Balti.”
Cesca stood in the doorway.
“She hates the hot weather. The woman was born in New Delhi, for heaven’s sake!” He leaned back.
“I get the thing about missing the grandchildren. I miss them.”
“Mr Chopra,” Cesca said. “Can you give me an idea of why you’re here?
“I know about the bank balance, or lack of it.”
He blinked.
“Oh, that. Didn’t I say? I’m going to invest. Radio is my first love, of course.”
“Of course?”
“I built crystal radios as a child.”
Mr Chopra appeared to notice Cesca’s confused expression for the first time.
“You don’t know about the video of my grandson?”
“No, Mr Chopra, I don’t know anything.”
“My daughter Arya sent a video to us of little Paavan tinkering with that crystal set.
“That brought back the memories, I can tell you!”
“That’s good,” Cesca said carefully.
“He said you’d taken such an interest in him. He’s a great boy, Francesca, a special boy.”
“He’s lovely.”
“So I am buying the house next door. We are going to expand, and I will be taking a more hands-on role.”
He stood up and his chest puffed out.
“A man in his later years must be true to his passions. Don’t you think?”
Cesca beamed.
“I do, Mr Chopra, I do.”