Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (13) Familial Relativity (Part 01)
Jonathon Masters felt as if his star was in the ascendency, his Web Design Business had finally taken off and he had landed a couple of plum contracts, one of which was a magazine publisher and the other was with the Big Cyril’s betting shop chain. However the news about his business’s new found success was not universally well received, his staff liked it, his bank manager was ecstatic about it but his mother was disgusted by it.
Furthermore his darling supportive mother said she would rather tell people he was in prison than tell them that he worked for pornographers and degenerates.
Jonathon lived alone on the outskirts of Forestdean at the Shallowfield end.
It was once a row of three forester’s cottages which had at some time been knocked into one to make a family sized house.
It was a very “nice” part of the village and certainly not somewhere he could have afforded to buy for himself even with the success of the business.
He was fortunate enough to live in a nice property in the well-heeled end of the village due the sudden if not altogether unsurprising death of his Uncle Jon.
Jon Coulson had no family of his own and had managed to alienate most of his extended family mainly because he was a “good time Charlie”, a hard drinking womanizer with the morals of an alley cat, so he had no one to inherit after his premature death, so as Jonathon was his favourite nephew he left it to him.
Because Jonathon was a single man he had far more space than he needed for himself so he decided to give up his tiny office space in Abbottsford and run his business from Kingfisher Cottage.
It was only him in the office most of the time as the four people who worked for him all worked from home anyway.
They only went to the office once or twice a month so after he closed the office they went to Forestdean instead.
It suited him living alone in a quiet village, he wasn’t really a people person, and he kept his human interactions down to a minimum.
At 30 years of age his mother would have preferred him to have found himself a good woman to settle down with who would make him find a proper job.
But he had tried a proper job and the good woman and neither of them had worked out to his liking.
His only regular interactions with human beings were Rafa and Mirabel, his gardener and his cleaner, who were a middle-aged couple who seemed to work for half the people in the village, his monthly meetings with his staff and the occasional visit to his clients and there were trips to the Post Office and General Store other than that he communicated only with cyber space.