VILLANDER THE WINE DEALER

A wine tasting to end all wine tastings.

George Villander’s wife wondered whether the beach hut which a neighbour had mentioned had been destroyed by fire that afternoon, could have been theirs. There were many along the Brighton seafront so the chance was remote. When her husband had not returned from his afternoon stroll by evening she began to fear there might be a connection. Visiting the local police station she was presented with the twisted remains of a cigarette lighter which she was able to identify as being her husband’s by his initials having been engraved upon it. The investigating officer was very consoling and had much sympathy for Mrs. Villander’s loss, nevertheless he was insistent on apprising her of all the details as a measure of his and his staff’s thoroughness. The intensity of the fire had severely damaged several other huts and there was little that could be identified in what remained other than the engraved cigarette lighter which had been returned to her. The inspector pointed out that the construction of the hut and what had been stored in there, including several containers of paraffin and methylated spirits, accounted for the fierceness of the inferno. Mr. Villander’s fondness for making tea there whilst out on his regular afternoon strolls was, in the words of the fire officer, ‘an accident waiting to happen.’ 

‘Ironically,’ the officer told a local newspaper, ‘the only thing that could be identified was the cigarette lighter belonging to the deceased, the very thing that probably caused the accident.’

The Villanders could trace their ancestry back to the sixteen hundreds. Their beleaguered forefathers had arrived in England like many other Huguenots after being persecuted throughout France. They brought with them many fine skills and formed the basis of a manufacturing revolution in English craftwork. The Villander family were weavers and like many other émigrés set up their stall in the east end of London. Not every Villander followed the family tradition, a branch of the family became renown silversmiths. Gradually they were absorbed into the society at large but the name of Villander was always associated with commerce of one sort or another. 

Shortly before the outbreak of the first world war, Mr. Henry Villander, widower, with his son George set up in Brighton as a wine dealer. Henry was a collector of fine wines who had made enough money in London as an importer and exporter to purchase some premises and indulge his passion, but his timing was not good. Almost immediately the confusion caused by the war, the drop in trade and associated embargoes dealt a crushing blow to his fledgling business. It was no help to the struggling Henry that for several months his son was reported missing in France. When George eventually returned the worry of this, Henry’s tendency to depression and his passion for wine, meant by the cessation of hostilities in 1918 the business was all but bankrupt and Henry, all but an alcoholic. George pleaded with his father’s relations on his behalf to support them so that the business could survive. He assured them that it would be successful, now that war was over. Avenues were already opening to French wine producers desperate to sell at any price to recover their businesses. The same was true across Europe though there was understandable prejudice against German wines. In the face of what George knew to be a golden opportunity, he couldn’t understand why the relatives flatly refused to help the business. With his father’s poor health and no help from his relatives, George was desperate but wherever he went those who could help his business seemed either unable, or unwilling.

For three years after the end of the war, George managed to keep the business limping along. The attitude of the relatives remained steadfast, something unresolved from the past meant the they would not lift a finger to help. As George struggled and his father’s health worsened there seemed little hope. During a stormy night Henry called for George to come to his bedside. There in the wee small hours George learnt of the injustice steeped on his father over decades due a brother’s betrayal and a cousin’s adultery. He remained there until first light when his father breathed his last. To George’s despair, even in death the rift remained and of the several mourners that attended Henry Villander’s funeral none were of the family. 

After George had settled his father’s debts, there was little money to keep the business going so when early in 1922 an offer was made to rent the business premises by a regional funeral directors, George had little choice but to accept. There was enough room on the ground floor for them to operate their business, so George could continue to live in the small flat above. The rent covered the basics and with a part time clerical job George had secured in the Public Records Office, things began to look up. He was able to save a little money and with this he began dealing in wine. The small income he received from the records office, the rent from the ground floor and some profit on wine auctions, eventually allowed him to ask, Emilene, the girl he had been walking out with, to marry him and she had accepted. She was a seamstress and together their incomes meant they were, as they might say, comfortable. 

George’s wine dealings were doing well. He had inherited his father’s flair for the trade, but without the problems associated with drinking it. A child, Henry Albert, was born to the couple and it seemed that only prosperity lay ahead. He could now think of leaving the Public Records Office, even of moving from the small flat over the funeral directors to a house, even a shop, and devoting all his time to the wine business. 

As George Villander became known in a few London auction houses, so the past began to catch up with him. The first he knew of this was a letter from one of the houses informing him that they had received several complaints and preferred he take his business elsewhere. Enquiries made of the auction house were fruitless, but some deceit and a clever disguise had revealed enough for him to know that the family vendetta was still in force and though entirely innocent, he was now its focus.

After several more letters, George knew it was hopeless to think that he could give up his job in the Public records Office and start his own wine business while the family’s vendetta was still in place. Reluctantly he had to cease wine trading and settle for working in the records office. 

Living over the funeral parlour George had become familiar with its owner and had been called upon several times to help out. George’s duties were often menial but he also deputised as a driver. He took a close interest in every aspect of the business being particularly interested in the preparation of the deceased for when families wanted to see their loved ones before the committal. George was always keen to help and the small earnings were a bonus. He and his wife Emilene, and their child, Henry Albert, lived peacefully at last but George’s dream was still to deal in wine.

One sunny morning George kissed his wife and son and left for his usual walk along the sea front to their beach hut. Usually, after making a cup of tea using the paraffin stove, he would spend an hour watching the bathers and greeting his many friends. Around midday, shortly before lunch, he would return. On this occasion he did not.

George’s last will and testament was considered thoughtless and extravagant considering the straights in which his widow and son now found themselves. It was shock to those who thought they knew George that he had been so profligate since his own business had failed. He had secretly mortgaged the property and apparently little of the money remained. The only items of any value, which were not inconsiderable, were four bottles of wine all of supreme vintage, the last of his father’s collection. In his will, George stipulated that they were to be left to the members of the his estranged family, enjoyed by those that had never shown any kindness to him or his father. There was much consternation nevertheless Georgie’s will left no doubt that by this generous act he hoped to end the family feud once and for all and that his son should not suffer like previous generations. The will stated that they should all meet at a place of their choosing on Henry Albert, his son’s, forthcoming birthday. They must use the wine to toast the young boy’s health and to swear to put an end to their feud. If this was not agreed to by all, then the bottles would be opened and the contents poured into the sea. To this they all agreed, enough was enough, and a waste of priceless wine could not be countenanced.

A few days after Henry’s birthday a London evening paper reported that an event held in a  private room one afternoon at the Connaught, was a massacre. This was a wild exaggeration, only nine people died that day, but what was remarkable was that they were all from the same family. All nine were those who had hired a room for a private meeting.

For weeks the newspapers carried rumour and conjecture about the cause of the deaths, intentional or accidental? Had Henry Villander, the old man, intended to kill them? Was it just the wine? Had George himself had a hand in it? It became a celebrated case across Europe, and even in New York. Vintage wine began falling in price for fear it had turned to poison. After several months little had been resolved, lack of evidence hampered the police as there were no survivors or witnesses. The relatives continued to bicker over what they were entitled to, and what others had no right to. All sides began swearing vengeance on each other if they didn’t get what they thought was rightfully theirs. Lawyers and their legal teams were pitched against each other but none could unravel the problem at its core, in what order did the family members die? Because they all died together in a private room with no one else present, it was impossible to know.

One Monday morning all of this became irrelevant. A solicitor had been carrying out some research at the Public Records Office and had discovered a previously unknown relative living in Shropshire who had a claim which appeared to take priority over all the others. The claimant was the only remaining relative of an estranged brother killed during the first world war. No one had any knowledge of this distant relative, a Mr. Lazarus Jerome. His claim was examined and the paperwork found to be in perfect order, even verified by a senior clerk at the Office. Because of Mr. Jerome’s infirmity and agoraphobia, he  was housebound and consequently unable to attend any meetings. The solicitor, a particularly unwholesome character by the name of Ronson, acted upon his behalf. The solicitor’s health wasn’t much better than his client being troubled with a continual cough, flatulence, and an air of general decay about his person. His appearances were always kept brief and he was never encouraged to delay his leaving.

The descendants, with their reputations in tatters and facing financial ruin, found no sympathy from their legal teams whose bills still had to be paid. Several applied for personal bankruptcy, and others had to plead with Mr. Jerome, via his solicitor, the irritable and uncompromising Mr. Ronson, for some arrangement which allowed them to remain in their homes. They were allowed to do so on condition they avoided any contact with their benefactor and maintained their rents.

Emilene left Brighton with her son a few months after the Villander affair had been concluded. She told neighbours on leaving that she had be offered a home by a relative. Mr. Jerome’s solicitor, the un-appetising Ronson, retired abroad for health reasons and never returned.

Little or nothing is known of Mr. Lazarus Jerome himself. No one of that name was recorded as having property in Shropshire. It is possible that he too moved abroad and he too may never return.