‘Charlotte!’
‘What?’
‘What, no “sir”?’
‘I’m trying to concentrate.’ I’d entered the kitchen only to find her with her head in a book entitled Vegan Enlightenment.
‘I’ve told you before, those glasses for a fiver from the chemist won’t do, you need a prescription pair. You’re a profitable going concern now, there’s no excuse.’
‘Okay, what’s your problem?’
‘Our problem is we need to get you in the club. As a member I mean, not being forever signed in as a guest. It’s one thing to be in demand, we like that, quite another to be seen loitering alone in the hallway waiting for the next poor sap to come along. You have to be seen to glide in unimpeded, more to the point we need you covered by membership insurance, it won’t cover you accepting odd commissions on the sly, but it will cover you, and them, for normal personal injury stuff etc. You can’t, as yet, afford the outrageous fees, so, like with your clothing allowance, Brinkley will have to get creative. I’ll be expected to put your name forward, but that means I won’t be allowed to attend the membership committee, but I can’t think there will be a problem.’
‘What do I have to do?’
‘Fill out this form by hand, then I’ll word process it for you.’
‘That’s it?’
‘Sure. All the committee asks of itself is “who’s met her” and “does she fit in?”.’
It was about a week later, whilst idling an hour or so at the Park, that I was approached by a tall, gangling, spectacled figure. ‘Anthony old man, a word in your shell-like. Information has reached me that you and your, companion, have gone viral, in the worst way.’ It was Frimley Coates, club member and devotee, like Rory Flotterton, of the double-breasted suit. But, unlike Rory, not of the old school since he’s a left footer.
‘Really, how strange.’
‘All rather embarrassing. It seems, sources inform me, that edited highlights of your recent stay here over Christmas now appear on the world’s largest porn site.’
‘Good lord.’
‘Odd that you should have forgotten to turn off security, that sort of thing being rather your hobby and all that.’
‘What the sex or the cameras?’
‘You seem a little blasé, I don’t image Ms Sparkwell will consider the matter so lightly.’
‘Thank you for your concern Frimley, I shall investigate, the matter need go no further.’
‘But my dear fellow, it’s all over the club already!’
‘Your joking!’
‘Not in the least. I’ve tracked it down, only took eleven key strokes and four key words!’
‘Well let’s have a look then.’
‘Frimley, thought you’d be quite upset.’
After a short pause. ‘I am now, the editing is bloody awful.’
‘Well the camera positions are fixed.’
‘Yes, but it kind of misses out the best bits. My French selfies are better than this. Wait a minute, there is something a bit odd about it.’
‘I know, at first I thought the timeline was just wrong when cutting between cameras…’
‘It’s like the person who did this, didn’t quite get what they were looking at.’
‘Quite.’
‘So, why make it anyway?’
‘Well clearly not an attempt to burn us, otherwise we’d have got a copy through the post with a demand for cash or some favour. Rather an effort at public embarrassment or humiliation, one might suppose.’
‘Will it work?’
‘Well that depends as much on how we respond, as it does on anyone else.’
‘And Frimley said it was all over the club, how?’
‘Well I think I’m about to find out. Give it a couple of minutes. Twenty-five quid says it’ll be Tuffy.’
‘I’m not betting against you.’
‘But we must also ask, why all over the club? Would you want to see an intimate video of your friends going at it? It’s the outsider looking on who either gloats or offers moral censure. Here we go. Yes! Bless you my son. And he’s forwarded the original. That link looks decidedly dodgy. Now, reply unredacted, “Thanks old man”. Now that looks like the dumbest thing to do, but hopefully it will force… Yes, the systems done it all for me.’
‘So what happen? You’re secure obviously.’
‘Yes, now my system has quarantined everything with either Tuffy’s email or that of the original emailer. The thing is, it will also reach out to the cloud. One man’s security system being another man’s spyware. So, “see details”. Oh, that’s rather dull, never mind.’
‘What is?’
‘I thought this might be fun, but it seems, I can’t be certain yet, but this all comes back to the Park company’s system. This file it has just created is very fat. It’s all me, or the Park or the club, and goes round and round in circles. Too tedious for words. I suspect whoever was acting as caretaker on the 27th December - the “inside man” as it were - reviewed security, thought it interesting, then with nothing better to do, started editing it there and then on the same machine, sent it to themselves at the club presumably, then forwarded it to whoever on the membership list they thought might be prepared to offer a bung. Sometime later, it may have been the same person who distributed it to selected individuals on behalf of the Mr Big.’
‘Frimley?’
‘Well, I doubt it. He was the obvious choice for messenger precisely because he is what he seems, very conventional and true to his greed. But I do think the idea is moral outrage at my behaviour. Now, which of my enemies feels hard done by on moral grounds?’
‘Everyone you screwed over when you grabbed control the Park! What chance have I got with the club membership committee now?’ I could have done with some digital help reading her face at that moment, not anger more like sadness, despair?
‘Every chance in the world - if I have anything to do with it.’
‘Mr Coates sir, may I refresh your glass?’
‘Oh, there’s really no need…’
‘Frimley! How are you?’ I said, approaching from the other direction. ‘Anything you like on the menu, you only have to ask, on my account.’
‘No really. And the answer to your question is I only heard about it by email like everyone else.’
‘Well, not everyone else to be precise, my digital consultants tell me only three others received it and they, for various reasons, have notoriously loose tongues. You on the other hand are the soul of propriety. Have you asked yourself why you were informed of our activities?’
‘I take your point.’
‘So, who wishes to induce moral outrage at the private, adult-consenting activity of Charlotte and myself, recorded on my cameras in a building of which I am the part owner?’
‘An interesting question.’
‘Charlie’s application for membership will come up at the next committee.’
‘Indeed. Really Anthony I thought I was just giving you the heads-up! And I can assure you I hit the pause button the moment I realised…’
‘No need to explain. We believe you. You see I have a hunch as to who is so anxious to have everyone question my morals. I think, this is all about tin churches, on remote hillsides, with an east wind coming off the sea.’
‘Now that, is something I could find out about.’
‘I thought you might.’
It was one morning in spring that Charlie suddenly exclaimed; ‘This letter is addressed to the both of us.’
‘Well don’t bother with the silver salver then, open it yourself.’
‘Very grand stationary, blimey, it’s finally going to happen, Miss Prudence and the Honourable Rory, at the church of St. Mary the… and later at Crawford Park! I wasn’t informed of this.’
‘Well, I wanted it to come as a surprise.’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘The thing is, this is a bit of a new venture for the Park staff, they feel confident they can handle it, but it’s just the question of crowd control that concerns them, they were rather wondering if you might be prepared to give a repeat performance of what everyone saw at Christmas.’
‘You’ve told them haven’t you, promised me to them without my consent.’
‘Now, they’ve been very tolerant about our out of hours adventures. And your membership went through without discussion apparently. And, now you have the first outfit - think of that. You won’t even have to appear at the church in a hat!’
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