Gucci Gucci Coo by Sue Margolis

Author:Sue Margolis
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780440336136
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2006-05-29T16:00:00+00:00

NIGEL WAS A stocky, mild-mannered man in an immaculate gray business suit and nondescript tie. He was the exact opposite of the loud, hugely entertaining—but ultimately emotionally damaged—types Aunty Sylvia usually went out with. There was no getting away from it: Nigel was dull.

Over dinner they were addressed on the difference between tax evasion and avoidance, the benefits of gifts and corporate bonds and how to invest them in order to derive the highest possible after-tax return. It didn’t help that Aunty Sylvia, who wasn’t quite pissed as a pudding, but well on her way, kept egging him on.

“Go on, Nigel. Don’t be shy. Tell them how you helped the Osbournes with their tax planning strategy.”

“Ah, well now, that wasn’t easy,” he said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. “You see, the change in tax law in 1998 means that gains made outside the U.K. can be taxable in the U.K. It was actually the March 1998 budget which extended CGT to cover expats for up to five years after their departure.”

All the time Nigel was speaking, Ruby couldn’t take her eyes off his face. When they were introduced, her first impression had been that Nigel possessed a warm, kind, if pudgy face, which smiled easily. She could see why Aunty Sylvia found him attractive. Having said that, there was something odd about his features. Something almost effeminate. Try as she might, she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

During one of the rare moments that Nigel paused for breath, Aunty Sylvia squeezed his hand and said: “This man has got the most brilliant financial brain. Tell them how you’ve helped the Stings.”

“Sylvia, I’m not sure I should really say any more. It’s meant to be confidential.”

“Millions, he saved them. Millions. I tell you, anytime, and I mean anytime, you need financial advice, Nigel is your man. He’s so gifted, they named a loophole after him. The Nigel Brompton Loophole.”

“Ah well, you see, that was based on my discovery that each year the Inland Revenue…”

“More wine, anybody?” Phil broke in. Ruby could tell by the taut expression on her father’s face that he was coming close to shoving Nigel’s head up his own loophole. Phil began going round the table, filling glasses. “By the way,” he said to nobody in particular, “you’ll never guess what I’m working on at the moment. I’m designing the packaging for a heart defibrillator—you know the thing with the electric paddles that doctors use to restart people’s hearts.” He put down the wine bottle and went over to the coffee table. He came back with a brown cardboard box. He explained that the defibrillator company were making battery-operated machines for home use and had given him one to play with.

“Wow, this is fantastic,” Aunty Sylvia enthused. She took another glug of wine and then began opening a plastic pouch. It contained rubber gloves, a surgical mask and scissors to cut off the patient’s clothes. “We have to test it out.” She unfolded the instructions and cast her eyes over them.

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