‘What’s all this?’
‘It’s not me it’s the others. They’ve been coming up to me for weeks, “I say old man, slip this under your tree for Sparkwell”, I didn’t want them to know all your business so…’
‘It’s going to look a bit bad when they realise I haven’t reciprocated.’
‘Not anymore!’
‘How do you mean?’
‘They don’t expect anything in return, in fact even if you were inclined to, you shouldn’t. It’s like the tipping, they’re giving you what is justly yours. They’re fans Charlie, and as long as you don’t start behaving like a Diva, you’re set for life. You just have to slightly adjust your view of yourself, give yourself slightly higher status. Imagine we’d met during a war, that you’d been my trusted soldier servant, that we’d saved each other’s lives, etc.’
It was Christmas morning and for the very first time we were having a lie in. Charlie had even allowed use of the teamaker so generously provided by the Park. We stared into space, wondering what to do with a country mansion that was ours alone for the next twenty-four hours.
‘How come Julia isn’t a Countess, but just a Lady?’
‘Ah, yes, well, ha, now we are into dark waters, and I can’t pretend to really understand, try searching College of Arms.’
‘Who?’
‘They’re a sort of office of state, there to keep the official record of titles, and the rights that follow from them, everything the Crown has given away down the centuries.’
‘My mobile is in my bag, you explain. I mean a Countess is more important surely, normally goes with an Earl.’
‘Well, the thing is, these days, looking on from the outside, then yes, Countess seems grander. They could go about as the Earl and Countess of this place, but it’s something about the lesser title Uncle had when they first married, being older. If you’re part of the aristocracy what really counts in terms of status is longevity, how far back in history your direct ancestor got their title and authority. And, over the years, as with so many things, the number of different titles has expanded, more and more people have been given them with more and more elaborate names, a sort of grade inflation I suppose. Then again it may all just be in a family name, catch Cat Mackintosh when he’s had a skin-full and he’ll claim, “my people came south with James I”. Now that’s well before the act of union, well before any Scottish dukedom. Ask him about Scottish independence and you’re likely get the reply; “Independence from whom?”
‘Do you know how to get onto the roof?’
‘Yes, but don’t tell anyone, especially Uncle.’
‘You can have me up there. In fact, lay it on.’
‘Yes, best left till the spring. Then in the summer you can spend a night up there alone looking at the stars. You know I’ve noticed lately you’ve started giving very direct, one might say unemotional statements, that’s what I’m meant to do, whilst you’re supposed to be flooded by emotion. I never thought much of the idea of an autistic spectrum as you know, but now I’m thinking it has totally out lived its usefulness.’
‘American users of services often call themselves neuro-atypical.’
‘Interesting. On the other hand if all the vital hormones are neurotransmitters too, especially those which can permeate the nasal cavity…’
‘Dirty sod.’
‘..you and I must be thoroughly locked-on to each other by now, our brains will have already developed new neural pathways, new structures. What I mean is, neither of us can be what we once were.’
‘What you mean is, we’re stuck with each other!’
And so we idled away our time, until late in the evening a text arrived from Aunt Elisabeth. ‘Gosh, things must be bad, we’ve been asked to rally round.’
‘Sorry? I don’t get it.’
‘Well rather than turn up at four o’clock prompt tomorrow for tea as honoured guests, there to mingle with the members of the Book Club, she’s humbly requesting we turn up at noon, help organise, make tea and serve etc.’
‘What happened?’
‘Not sure, she just says, “let down by my usual caterers”.’
I started briefing Charlie more or less as soon as she pulled out of the Park carpark, there was some ground to cover. Naturally enough, parking arrangements at Aunt Elisabeth’s rather desirable Edwardian town house took a while to explain - not least because the Aunt disapproved of my two-seater and always wanted it out of sight. Then the house itself. ‘What you have to understand Charlie is, although that side of the family made money from trade, nonetheless they always aspired to grandness, to acquiring a history, so you’ll find the whole interior a bit museum like, not just out of date because of her age, but the walls of every room are used as a kind of billboard for advertising the enterprise of all my ancestors, that is those who achieved something Auntie approves of, there are quite a few others who have been quietly forgotten.’
‘Shame, they’re the ones I really need to know about!’
‘Keep your eyes on the road. Now then, you’ll also find various bits of medical tech discretely left lying about and when she refers to the domestic help I’m never quite sure of their status; housekeeper or home help, carer or nurse, cook or chief bottle washer - see what I mean?’
‘I know a bit about that, she’s confided a lot about the people she’s consulted for various complaints down the years.’
‘Excellent. Now, the guest list. Although almost all of them are well to do, none of them are as rich as she is - and as you are aware she herself is better off than she realises - so, many of them look forward to her turn as host with eager anticipation, a mix one suspects of envy and admiration, of despising at the same time as wanting to know how it’s done. Now, here we are, the house is the third one up the street coming up on the left, but as I said keep going because we need to park in the back lane.’
As she came to a halt and cut the engine Charlie remarked; ‘Is there enough space for others to pass?’
‘Just, it was of course built for the tradesmen’s horse and cart, not a coach and four.’
‘Really?’
‘Sure, look at the clever kerbstones, the steep camber, there are no storm drains, water runs straight down the road and about a quarter of a mile distant goes over the cliff into the bay. It worked too, those palm trees we passed have flourished for a century, properly drained you see…’
‘You’re nervous, that’s what sends you all nerdy.’
‘Well, just a bit.’
‘Stick to the essentials, we’re on time but only just.’
‘Okay, so we enter by the back gate, it’s a long garden, but a nice straight level path for the delivery boy’s trolley.’
‘Shut, up!’
As we walked up the path we passed under the rather tatty remains of what must have once been a rather spectacular bower. ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to say…’
‘We’ll be late.’
‘It’s okay, she’ll be able to see us from the villa now.’
‘Villa? Oh I see, as in detached. Well get on with it.’
‘Julia wasn’t quite on the mark when she said I had fantasies of you being mistress of Checkley. The fact is the old aristocracy were rather good at recognising the differences between men and women, our need to do our own thing and for personal space. When I think about the manor I imagine owning it and having charge of it, making it my space. There, the lady of the house would fit in with my wishes. However, these couples of olden days usually had another property in town, naturally the wife had her own social circle and anyway might well live in a place like this during various seasons of the year, where she’d be the one calling the shots, so to speak. I merely mention this in passing.’
Charlie turned to face me, with a definite thrust of the chin. ‘You’d better look sharp about it my lad, because if you can’t keep me satisfied, day to day, week to week, your future imaginings will be just so much bollocks!’
As we approached the back door there was the sound of bolts being drawn. ‘Thank you for coming at such short notice my dear. Anthony, show Charlotte how to use the scraper.'
As we passed through the old pantry: ‘Now I’ve found you an old apron, but it does have some lovely embroidery on it, it used to belong to Bernard Merriweather’s mother, she was a wonderful cook, started out in life working as a maid for that dreadful man who made his millions from convenience stores and had that mock castle built on the edge of the Moor. She was forever recalling how the flat roofs leaked. Anthony, you’d better remove that jacket, roll up your sleeves and put on this gardening apron of Mr Murchison’s, who by a strange coincidence is related to…’
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