23: Sparkwell and the all-seeing eye

Upon her return Charlie texted asking for a pick-up at the railway station, I duly obliged. The down platform was busy, instinct told me to hang back in the booking hall.

‘Good evening, sir. I trust all is well?’

‘Yes, yes indeed.’

‘Shall I resume my driving responsibilities?’

‘As you wish Sparkwell, as you wish.’


As she stepped over the threshold of the apartment she paused, silhouetted in the hallway, motionless. She seemed to sniff the air. After a couple of seconds of silence I said; ‘Welcome home.’

‘Yes.’ Another pause, then; ‘It’s a bit mucky, I’ll get on.’

So once more I let her take charge, closed the front door and in doing so our world seemed restored.


It wasn’t long after Charlotte’s return that, on entering the Games Room at the Park, we were confronted by the sight of Barmy Gruber - usually to be seen lecturing or sat at a desk writing code - actually doing physical work. He was half underneath the flight simulator and even had his tool kit in from the car. ‘My dear fellow, are you unwell?’

‘Possibly, this is against my better judgement you understand. Sure I have done such projects in the past, but I’m not the most skilled, this is a botch, I think.’

‘I’d rather have you fix it than any of the others!’

‘This is true, but it will fail again, rough handling from the English.’

‘More than likely.’

‘Why are you here, we see much more of Charlie than of you?’

‘I’ve agreed to be thrashed at the pool table - I need the practice.’

‘You deserve it.’ Turning his head slightly he addressed my paramour; ‘You know Charlie, that as soon as our backs are turned, our man here is lunching my wife?’

‘I was not aware of that, sir.’

‘Yes indeed, but to use Daphne’s words “twice he gets his comeuppance”.'

‘Sir?’

‘Twice members interrupted to enquire where you were, you have made yourself indispensable ja, ja?’

‘Thankyou sir, regarding your wife, I suspect my employer’s motives were more gastronomic than carnal.’

‘Yes, this too is my wife’s conclusion.’

‘What is it with you two?’ I interjected. ‘Charlotte you’ve clearly been eating the fish you’ve been catching - you sound more like your fictional mentor than ever. And as for you Gruber, you seem to be reverting, you stopped constructing your English sentences back to front within a term of arriving at school!’

‘Always the way with a Games Room old man,’ said Cat entering stage left. ‘People get competitive, up their game. I guess we could do with a permanent referee. Care to take the job on Charlie?’

‘I’m afraid, I have my hands rather full at the moment.’

‘Well, speaking on behalf of the management’, I asserted, ‘some sort of remote surveillance might well be in order, some kind of crude version of the old Hawkeye plus half a dozen cameras. What do you think Barmy?’

‘The crowd loved it at the cricket this summer, when the third umpire went to level four - or whatever it is - and reversed its own decision! As for Premier League VAR, well time will tell.’

‘I meant the technical feasibility.’

‘Well, with the Darts there would be no point, I understand we’re already on a promise for a reconditioned championship sized automatic scorer. With the Pool, as you should know, the laws of physics make it all a waste of time when there are more than three balls on the table, the flight simulator is a closed system with only one fair-weather daylight runway. As for VR, there are no rules about space, just sensors in the jackets. It comes down to written rules and when are they are ambiguous. That only leaves cheating through deception - misdirection and sleight of hand. Which is your area of expertise, is it not?’

‘Oh, I agree’ said Cat.

‘Undeniable.’ Sparkwell chipped in; ‘Eye movements, tone of voice, emotional facial recognition - he has them all in the two cameras in our car as we speak. I’m expecting him to trade-in the two-seater any day now, for the biggest people-carrier he can find…’

‘Enough! So, it’s sides now is it? I knew this would happen as soon as Uncle and I took control. Well let me remind you all, I’m the one watching your backs! The secretary would be well within his rights if he chose to put an end to all this. And may I also remind the assembled company, the occasional cash tip is ok, so too a modest cash bet between two opposing participants - but anything more will force my hand as well as that of the secretary. Also Charlie, you may not be aware, but some members are a lot less well off than others, come to one of the three of us if you think someone is spending more than they can afford.’

‘Er, Tony, before Charlie humiliates you at the pool table could we have a quick word in private, won’t take a minute.’


Cat and I found a deserted corridor. ‘Talking of watching people’s backs, I’m feeling a bit exposed myself right now.’

‘Go on.’

‘It’s Tuffy, he’s still banging on to anyone who’ll listen, about how convenient it was that the pond should drain when it did, and if it was timely, how could anyone contrive such a situation.’

‘How much does he actually know?’

‘Well that’s the thing, I can’t work out how he could know anything! As far as I can tell he must just suspect he was excluded from something and is fishing to find out more.’

‘Does he realise the events he thinks he missed out on went down when he was in hospital?’

‘I don’t know, anyway it’s always possible he’ll find out something, feel aggrieved and in his ignorance, drop us all in it.’

‘Right, well it’s my responsibility to sort this, and I will as soon as possible, one idea occurs immediately, but it will need to be thought through, what we really want is for Tuffy to remain in the dark and forget the whole thing, right?’

‘Absolutely, he’d never be able to keep it to himself. He was never going to be any use anyway, even if he had been fit.’

‘So, getting him to just drop it and turn his mind to something else is probably the answer. Right, I’ll let you know when it’s done, otherwise keep you out of it.’

‘Thanks old man. You know I don’t think Charlie has quite twigged how you do it yet, I see it in her face, she follows most of the way, then puzzlement.’

‘No doubt you’ll nudge her towards enlightenment.’

‘Naturally, after all one has a moral obligation to keep her safe, what!’


Sparkwell had the table set up. ‘This is meant to be a club, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘But, clubs are meant to be owned and run by their members.’

‘They are, otherwise, they’re not a club. And that’s different from an association, or a business, and any one may in certain circumstances be granted the status of a charity. No, I don’t understand it either, even Bernard Merriweather has to consult somebody else on that one.’

‘But you’re saying, you as an owner can look out for the interests of members?’

‘Yes. The club, of which I am an ordinary member, elects its own committee members and officials, charges fees etc. But it doesn’t own anything other than itself, so to speak; it rents part of the house from the Park company. The current Sec. just happens to also be the general manager of the Park. But that’s strictly his day job, he’s an employee of the company only, has no shares, gets no bonuses related to the performance of the company etc. Now that’s just about as far as my understanding goes. I’m sure your new boss Brinkley would be only too glad to confuse the issue even more.’

‘So, why are you always so concerned about here?’

‘It’s only a Games Room because certain members have decided it is, unofficially. In reality it is the hallway of the house, in other words the main entrance and exit, for the club and the company, in fact both the front door and the back door, and which is which, depends upon the use to which it is being put, at any one time.’

‘Well shouldn’t someone, lay down the law about it?’

‘Absolutely not, it’s the ambiguity that grants freedom, like so many things in life, one day someone will have an accident and you won’t be able to patch them up, but the liability will be, who knows what? I mean members will rally round, do the right thing of course, but nonetheless.’

In time we got on with the game, I restrained myself for several frames (do I mean that, or is that just snooker?) Anyway, I waited till she was well ‘in the zone’, in a state of ‘flow’ as it were, making sure I was always behind her, as close as possible without being tempted to initiate something more intimate - keeping my mind on the job, as it were. ‘Perhaps I should have mentioned, just didn’t seem that important, the couple of enquires about your whereabouts, one was just Cat on behalf of someone who’d pulled a muscle; the other seemed a bit more, involved…’ I paused.

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Tuffy, somewhat agitated, wanted one of his, now what did he call it “special treatments”?’

She continued to clear the table, seemingly unmoved. ‘Well. It’s just getting him to relax, let go really, like that time at the flat.’ The crack of another ball going down. ‘Sort of, self-hypnosis really, not sure what I do to help, he just needs to get his worries out I suppose.’

‘Well, that’s good, I think you should let him talk as much as he wants, then, as you say, let go.’

22: Sparkwell is away (annual leave)

It happened when Charlie was away on holiday and I was left to fend for myself once more. She’d decided to exploit her official status and public persona by announcing she was taking six days from her annual six weeks - and was going fishing. Not a sport I know anything about, clearly demonstrated when I remarked that there were plenty of rivers around the Checkley estate, but she appeared not to have gone anywhere near any of them. ‘You’re not the only one with a computer, the angling community can access the same data as the Environment Agency, without having to actually go there.’ I then expressed the thought that it must be a somewhat lonely kind of holiday, but it turned out she had ‘fishing pals’, some dating back to her not so impoverished childhood, when she was introduced to the river by an Uncle. She said she would have no difficulty in feeling compleat!

‘Will you be requiring a substitute Carer whilst I’m away, sir?’

‘No I most certainly will not!’

‘Just asking, Brinkley thought I ought to check, just for the record.’

‘No doubt the thought amuses him. Now close the door on your way out.’


Now I really don’t know why it is, but when a chap is without his mate, he cannot help but notice other desirable females. Whilst there was no conscious intention of straying in deed; nonetheless the massive, unconscious part of one’s brain appears to be hard-wired to notice potential alternatives. It therefore felt perfectly normal, upon noticing Daphne sat in the lounge at the Park, to sidle-up and enquire whether she was in need of a lunch companion. And indeed she was, on account of her husband being unaccountably delayed in a departure lounge in Dusseldorf.

‘Really, this whole business of commuting to Europe is getting beyond a joke,’ she said as I held a chair for her; ‘Barmy loves it, but the kids are just getting plain confused, and no doubt Brexit will only make it more so for the poor dears.’

‘Yes, I meant to ask you about that, don’t his sundry activities in the academic community rather depend on the old EU being willing to fund that which Her Majesty’s government will not?’

‘Absolutely, but that’s only his pocket money. The real money comes from his family’s stake in the electronics of aeronautics. He’s getting a little nervous about the free flow of cash in the future, as it happens. Anyway, why are you here and palely loitering? I don’t see your Girl Friday about.’

‘Annual leave, alas.’

‘You shouldn’t have hung me out to dry all those years ago then - I never leave Barmy for more than a few hours without putting a little something next to the microwave.’

‘You think I’m just sitting down with you for the sake of a square meal?’

‘The way to a man’s heart… I do confess to missing your wit from time to time, Tony.’

‘Well thank you. It amuses me now, for example, to hear the name Barmy trip of your tongue with just the right emphasis, you used to be a lot more formal.’

‘I know, but after I’d lived with him for a few months I started to realise what you chaps had obviously picked up on, in the third-form dorm.’

We’d barely started when we were interrupted by Cat Mackintosh. ‘I say, I do apologise Daphne old girl, but might I have a quick word with Tony here?’

‘Be my guest.’

‘The thing is, you couldn’t tell me where Charlie is could you?’

‘Gone fishing, but I’m not at liberty to reveal where, officially on leave.’

‘Gosh, thing is we could rather do with her ministering hands.’

‘Can I be of any help?’

‘Hardly old man, fact is she’s been acting as unofficial physio to all us lads in the Games Room.’

‘Has she indeed, she’s kept that quite.’

‘Well, I know she was worried you might get the wrong end of stick, think she’d been moonlighting or something.’

‘You’ve been paying her?’

‘No, no; least not officially, just the occasional tip, I mean the lads are quite generous. After all, there you are, a sudden jolt of pain and you’re out of the game. Charlie steps in, twenty minutes later you feel right as rain and terribly grateful. Opponents like to see you back in the game too, if you see what I mean.’

‘What! If someone’s been running a book we’ll be forced to close you down.’

‘Oh perfectly understood, how long is she away for?

‘Just the week.’

‘Okay. Sorry again for butting in Daphne.’ And with that, he was gone.

‘You know I don’t mean to be catty, but you do realise one day she’ll trade you in for a younger model?’

‘Well, that’s as may be, but the greater folly would be to fool oneself about why she’s with me in the first place.’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘I flatter myself that I’m offering something she can’t get elsewhere, that I’m on to a winner.’

‘But isn’t that an even greater conceit?’

‘Now you’re tempting me to expound on my own virtues. Not easy to resist. Talking of which, how about dessert?’


We decided to take our coffees across to the veranda bar and watch progress with the pond. ‘I must say you’ve provided some marvellous entertainment through the summer, shame all the health and safety sculptures are gone now, the recycled junk provided by members was most amusing too, one road sign I especially liked; that one dreamed-up years ago by some tortured soul in the Ministry of Transport when mini roundabouts first came in - “Altered Priorities Ahead”, rather summed the whole place up!’

‘As ever, at your service.’

‘Why is it taking so long to fill-up again?’

‘Same reason it got rather stagnant before, there’s very little coming in from up stream. But we are supplementing that by pumping in some of the spring water. At the same time we’re replacing the upper and lower sluice gates, make sure it flows just enough. Nonetheless, we are going deliberately slow, rather hoping that the odd flora and fauna that’s migrated in recently, and will migrate as it fills, will take off. There’s also the question of the spa?’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘Well, the well of the spring, how much can we take out? Does it replenish itself fast enough for just a pretty little drinking fountain, or enough for hydrotherapy in the new extension to the spa. Perhaps even enough for a highly select mineral water, on sale only to the…’

‘This is the first I’m hearing of all this.’

‘Very much in the planning stage, I really must tell my fellow investors and the committee about it soon.’

‘One day you’ll get bored and turn to crime, just to see if you can get away with it.’

‘Now there’s a thought.’

‘I say! Sorry to butt in but, where on earth has Charlotte gone?’

‘Afternoon Tuffy.’ I replied. ‘You’re the second person in the space of an hour to ask that question.’

‘Sorry. She’s not ill is she?’

‘Sparkwell, ill? She never gets ill, enjoying good country air as it happens, on leave. Why do you ask?’

‘Rather hoping she was free, could fit me in, one of her special treatments don’t you know.’

‘No, I don’t think I do actually.’

‘Well we have this sort of arrangement, whenever I’m a bit out of sorts, she takes me out of myself, sort of deep relaxation, meditation thing, works wonders.’ I must have had a quizzical look on my face for he added; ‘For the appropriate recompense of course!’

‘She’ll be back next week.’

‘Oh well, can’t be helped I suppose’, he said as he wandered off, head down.

Then Daphne was pinged; ‘Good lord, something’s happening. “Boarding now”. How long will it take me to get to the airport at this time of day?’

‘An hour, an hour and ten.’

‘I’d better think about shaking a leg then. So, what is the secret of you and the valette? Being with a smart aleck like you all the time isn’t the easiest thing in the world, it’s fine when you turn on the charm, when you’re warm as well as supremely competent, but when you’re cool and competent you just make everyone else feel inadequate!’

‘Difficult to say, we don’t actually spend much time looking at each other and talking things through, we seem to be fully occupied following each other around all day.’

‘Really. I’ll have to think about that one. Anyway, must dash, at least now there’s a chance we’ll both be home before childcare gets the hump. Cheerio.’

‘Do give my fondest to your mother.’

21: We all go to the polls

‘Now just a minute! Do you and your chums really think a group of hoorays chortling away in the back row, then raising their hands, on mass, aren’t going to be spotted?’

‘Ah, but this is the beauty of it, packing a crowd or even organising a clack is strictly out of order these days. So after a husting, in which I’m the only “one of us” who attends, all members get emailed a link to the short-listed candidates and get to vote online.’

‘Yes, but.’

‘We’ve already established by word of mouth who we want Rory to go the ten rounds with, I’m there just to make sure he’s one of the nominations.’

‘I can’t approve of any of this.’

‘Of course not, but then your credibility as a citizen concerned for the future of the planet is rapidly being undermined by your love affair with my gas-guzzler! Now, take the wheel of Jack’s mock mean-machine here, drop me at the old social club, then take it for a burn.’

‘Ok, Mr fucking wise guy, who is this person Rory is somehow going to beat?’ Charlie demanded as we accelerated away, rather too quickly.

‘An old fake who goes by the unlikely name of Rod Haagen-Dazs, or to be more precise, the one and only Roderick Haagen-Dazs, Associate Professor of Social Policy at our local university.’

‘Don’t tell me, you’re going to expose him as heir-apparent to the family ice cream fortune?’

‘Er, no. Haagen-Dazs is a made-up name, it exists only as a brand name, the real history of which is well documented and, as with so many things can be verified with a keyword and three clicks.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh yes, and hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions by now, of people around the globe know the story without even having to look it up! Problem is, Roderick when he arrived penniless in this country, long before the Web established itself as the conduit for all knowledge, did not. He changed his name quite legally. And of course the party he seeks to represent, well, no questions asked since you’re allowed to self-identify as whatever you like these days.’

‘But having an opponent with a silly name won’t be enough.’

‘Indeed, but people are going to realise he is fake in other ways too, that is officially fake. The man is the very personification of the post-modern, of the kind of relativistic thinking that believes that by giving something a new name, the language itself then somehow magically changes your reality! And what’s more he is woke, fully a woke; fully qualified to train wokers - if that’s a word?’

‘How do you know all this?’

‘Well it was the newsletter of the campaign group Inertia which first set me off on the trail…’

‘Oh, lord. Get out. Don’t tell me until it’s all over.’


As it happened I need not have worried, the wily professor, one-time sociologist, now academic policy wonk and self-proclaimed social justice warrior, was well organised, I merely went with the crowd, carried along by the arm waving, cheers and applause. Later, over bedtime hot chocolate - our earlier indulgence in cod and chips having ruled-out anything more sustaining - I did my best to explain all.

‘But, don’t you think just talking to them would have arisen suspicion, your voice?’

‘No, no; the rabble, the mob - they’re all middle class, metropolitan types these days, they all have social science degrees, I just have to remember my modern history from university, and I blend in.’

‘How come?’

‘Well most of the history dons still talked in the language of Marx and the sixties New Left even then, I’d forgotten most of it, but then this revival of the old Left a few years ago brought it all back.’

‘I don’t get any of that, but okay, you can talk their language. What now?’

‘You said you didn’t want to know.’

‘Oh, yeah, I forgot.’


I had a hunch and over the next few days I played it. First I contrived to bump into Prudence, then a while later Rory. My advice? Simple, always refer to your opponent as Professor, then I sat back to enjoy the show, giving Charlie ample evidence I was indeed coming to heal and staying out of it. I was staking all on good old English snobbery.

Now Rory, in all his innocence, used the word professor in the traditional English sense of the word, how could he not, with a little but not too much, deference appropriate for someone with a long-established reputation based on published research in their particular area of expertise, recognised at least nationally, if not internationally, someone rewarded by their university with tenure. It was Rory’s audience or the interviewer who would question why on earth, an opponent should be so respectful, since the idea of an 'associate professor' - another regrettable American import - was something altogether, different. The impression left with the voter, was that Rory was simply behaving as a gentleman would and ignoring the man’s diminutive status.

We watched together the one bit of live tv Rory couldn’t get out of, a hastily arranged head to head debate, chaired by regional tv’s recently appointed ‘political editor’, more familiar to viewers as the chap who used to present the five minute evening bulletin on Saturdays - invariably a quickly contrived analysis of the situation in the lower half of the Football League’s Division Three. Charlie remarked; ‘I’m beginning to get this now, I could never work out the difference between a senior lecturer, a reader or fellow or whatever, but it always mattered to them. I know in America anybody who stands up in front of a class gets called a professor!’

‘Quite. The post-doc, the assistant this, the associate that.’ The double strength, triple-sized ice cream tub standing for the Left, peppered every sentence with appropriate, inclusive, diverse and politically correct language to describe, the issues and concerns he had which he implied were surely shared by all. Rory’s replies were vague and indecisive, ‘I’m sure there’s a lot to be said for both sides’, and in any other context would have sounded weak. However, polite tolerance of gobbledegook was what the viewer saw. As the debate continued the Professor took a few swipes at Rory’s supposed privileged background, describing a socialist new dawn in which such a lifestyle would not be tolerated, then made the mistake of asserting there should be positive discrimination in favour of certain of the newer more inclusive universities over the older more traditional ones. It was then, just as the programme was drawing to a close, that Rory momentarily lost his cool; ‘I say old chap, I’ll self-identify as I damn well please, you can stick your academic’s version of grade inflation up your own old polytechnic!’

At which point the audience fell about with laughter, but not at him, rather with him, supposing he’d made a clever satirical joke.

Afterwards, I asked; ‘Well, what are we to make of that?’

She paused for thought. Then; ‘Rory is the kind of bloke who automatically walks when the umpire signals - out!’

‘Yes, you’re right, absolutely right, and to be a successful politician you just have to come across as likeable. Such a rare quality these days.’


‘The bowling green?’

‘Yes, it’s always the bowling green - because it’s one of the few places the council still owns, one surmises.’ I said, as we set out together to cast our ballots. It was early morning and quiet, we tried to smile equally to all the rosettes stationed at the door to the modest clubhouse.

On our way back, Charlie said; ‘I forgot to ask, why do you call Prudence, the Puritan?’

‘Well, it’s a Puritan name and she does display some of the virtues.’

‘I don’t understand, explain.’

‘Well, the Puritans invented a whole set of new Christian names by which to call themselves, in addition to naming children after people in the bible. Names like Verity and Prudence, all intended to be virtuous. But I suppose it’s more than that, she exudes the idea that what you do in this life determines your fate in the next. The Puritans took very seriously the notion of keeping your nose to the grindstone, and - according to who you read - regarded success, in terms of money earned or property acquired, as well - a measure of virtue! You can find the seeds of capitalism, not to mention the American Dream, in their endeavours if you want to.’


Being in the middle of a hung parliament, meant tv was ‘live’ at the count, but it did stretch on rather, well into the early hours - a higher turnout than expected we were told. The neat piles of ballot papers on opposing tables seemed equal in height. At last the mayor - who had graciously consented to lend his name to the recently reopened half of the old public park that the council hadn’t sold-off - read the result. Rory had won, by a little over six hundred votes. He in turn read a formal acceptance speech, with clear diction, from a couple of record cards he’d taken from his pocket, and what with the double-breasted suit, perfectly knotted tie and formal shoes, he exuded the quiet confidence of a man who never doubted he would win. The illusion was complete. Just as his opponent began to rant that Rory would be ‘burnt in effigy’ on Beacon Hill on Guy Fawkes Night, the victor could be seen walking out of shot accompanied by a couple of burly minders, presumably to be whisked away to our nation’s capital for some vital vote, since it now seemed our man held the balance of power.

20: Charlie on the campaign trail

‘What I still don’t understand is, how come a crack - and just the right-sized crack mind you - could suddenly appear at just the right moment in the roof of the shaft and, I mean, how could anyone know hundreds of tons of water wouldn’t just…’

‘Thousands of tons, I’d say Tuffy’, some anonymous voice replied.

I turned on my feet and rapidly exited the lounge I’d not quite entered.

‘Anthony!’ The voice echoed in the corridor, in tone it was reminiscent of Aunt Elisabeth, but I had no doubt from whence it came.

‘Prudence! You’re looking as glamourous as ever.’

‘I heard all that. I also heard most of your conversation with Rory. If anyone, comes to hear anything, of his alleged involvement in any of your schemes, past, present or future… Well, I shall know what to do about it. I have no intention of letting anything stand in the way of his new career.’

‘Naturally I too am the soul of discretion. So, when and where is this actual adoption meeting?’

‘Stay out of it…’ I was saved by the ping of a notification.

‘ETA two minutes. Excellent, my carriage awaits. Must dash. Love to chat, but simply not poss.’

‘I hear there’s nothing she doesn’t do for you. And handsomely paid for her trouble too. Now what is the proper name for that?’

‘Well she certainly doesn’t give it away, but then you’d know all about that.’


Back on the road, Charlie said; ‘You look a little harassed.’

‘Your words turned out to be prophetic, first Rory was there seeking advice, then Prudence turned up, laying down the law. Still I managed to duck and dive. So far we’re well out of it. How did it go with Julia?’

‘Would you mind if I didn’t tell you about it?’

‘Not at all.’

‘You did say I should be the one to say “stop”, draw the line in the sand. Well, what you don’t know and all that.’

‘I do love you Charlotte, with all my heart.’

‘Just as well.’ Seen in profile from the passenger seat, it seemed she wasn’t so much smiling as smirking.

‘Any fallout from the viniculture?’

‘Your Uncle passed through the kitchen where we were chatting, seemed happy as Larry, he said, “tell your man I’ve chucked the remains of the muck, mush - whatever he called it, along with all the rest, straight back on the ground where it came from - as advised - and that custom of white roses at the end of rows of white grapes, and red at the end of red, is just what we need”.'

‘Great. Now we just have to wait and wonder if in years to come we’ll open a bottle and find ourselves drinking fizzy pop.’


Stuff happens. ‘Events, dear boy,’ as someone once said. About a week later, Charlie entered, stage right via the kitchen - precisely two hours after dawn - with our meagre rations for the a.m. ‘He’s done it,’ she announced, flashing a tablet screen in my face, ‘at least according to our freesheet.’

‘Yes, how is it that despite being online like everyone else, the local rag still always seems to read like old news?’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Well, today of all days, you’d have thought… You obviously haven’t seen the nationals. Regional tv news has it, see?’ The headline on the screen read, “Local MP resigns over sex scandal” and “Byelection to test government majority”. ‘So, I’ve just been on the blower to Jack, we’ve arranged a car swop.’

‘Why on earth?’

‘A break from it all. He can take “er, indoors” on a long weekend road trip around the peninsula, whilst we, cause urban chaos in his van.’

‘What! That bloody great…’

‘No, no, no, that’s his recovery vehicle, I mean his business runabout, the small white van’.

‘Not much of an exchange!’

‘You’re not thinking this through. Jack is the automotive expert, not me.’

‘But he’ll get to play with all our computer kit, whilst we, we what?’

‘Well I don’t know until I get my hands on it, that’s the point - but there is a lot of kit in it, I know that much, and of course it’s not your bog-standard hatchback frame and engine underneath either - if you see what I mean.’


The local media concluded there was everything to play for in the election. What with boundary changes, Rory declaring for Brexit at any price, and the now former MP having won the seat several times for the opposition as a Remainer. The nature of the sexual misdemeanours (if that’s what they were) remained mysterious, since the recent member had obtained a gagging order the day before resigning. Rory’s face could be seen everywhere, though no one seemed to have met him. There were no live tv interviews or videos online. His voice however, a little more certain and assertive than usual, was there as a voiceover online and in a few radio interviews. One news outlet carried a brief story about a row between the candidate’s female minder, slash spin doctor - no one was quite sure of her role - and a commercial radio station, about whether the studio webcam set-up should be switched off.

Jack’s little van had modest warning-like stripes and extra flashing lights which kind of suggested the type of vehicle you see just before a massive outsized load comes at you on a narrow road. I took a first look in the back whilst parked half on, half off the pavement outside the chippy. As soon as Charlie had secured an early supper we parked-up on the Prom, for all the world like environmental services on a break. ‘So what have you learnt?’ She enquired.

‘He’s really gone to town with the driverless technology, all the kit for monitoring other road users - which in its way is the same as surveillance, being as well inform as the authorities, if not better.’

‘But what’s the point of it all?’

‘To help himself, and his customers. Basically his business is looking after high-end relatively recent classic cars. Nonetheless, as the years go by owners are being forced more and more to modify their cars in order to keep them on the road and comply with regulations, right?’

‘Right.’

‘The service Jack provides, is to do that with the minimum fuss, altering the look of the car as little as possible, all for a reasonable price.’

‘And the knowing all about other road user’s bit?’

‘Well just imagine in ten or fifteen years, if half the vehicles are electric and all vehicles are to varying degrees driver assisted, us petrolheads are going to be enemy number one - and we can’t hide - we are by definition the most conspicuous road users!’

‘And?’

‘Well, Jack’s big idea is that the technology is essentially reversible; like a loudspeaker being in essence, the same as a microphone. He thinks we can hide in plain sight, be seen but leave no trace.’

‘But the authorities will know! They’ll have seen you and then know you’ve wiped the tape, as it were.’

‘Quite, but Jack reckons the psychology is right, the authorities will, unofficially be grateful, be saved the embarrassment of having to look the other way or legislate us off the road. If challenged they can say, we don’t have the tech yet to stop them, and as always go cap in hand to the government for more cash, which of course always takes longer than the next tech innovation.’

By this time, Charlotte had started rummaging in the back herself, though she seemed more interested in what was covering the floor than the kit, a sort of fitted mat, quite thick but with a surface like a yoga mat; ‘You don’t think he uses this as a passion wagon on the sly?’

I couldn’t help thinking, this woman is only really interested in 'going beyond sex' once she’s discovered every possible satisfaction in the ‘here and now’; in my mind I’d already gone as far as to tentatively formulate, Sparkwell’s first rule of natural therapy - never do it twice in the same place in the same way.

‘Good lord is that the time, I’m due at the opposition hustings.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t worry, you don’t have to be involved, you can have the van for a couple of hours, I’m the one who needs to be there.’

‘Why? I said keep us, out of it.’

‘Yes but I’m a member, I get to vote for my candidate of choice.’

‘But, but you’re the, wild capitalist of the Web, since when did you care about equality, social justice…’

‘Look, until about four years ago, I’d never been a member of any party, I wasn’t even listed anywhere as a supporter of anything. So when they introduced their "a vote for a fiver" scheme, I thought it would be a laugh, lots of the chaps at the Park have done it, literally the "unwaged". Now we get to help Rory, by helping to choose his opponent.’