78: Return of the bookworms

‘What time will Kenneth need to be let in to the Villa?’ I groaned over Boxing Day breakfast at Checkley Manor.

‘I said we would return by noon.’

‘Okay, and your solution to the catering?’

‘It’s all been chilling in the boot of the car since early Christmas Eve. I attempted to absolve myself of all responsibility by going to the posh supermarket and trying to adopt the mind-set of your late Aunt Elisabeth, sir. All charged to the housekeeping card I’m afraid.’

‘Your forgiven.’

‘Take advice from one who has knocked around the world a bit, no good ever comes from staying up until all hours.’ So pronounced Kenneth, when he saw the condition, we were both in.

‘Yes, I don’t mean to pry, but where in the world have you knocked about?’

‘Got as far as Singapore once.’

‘Fascinating.’

‘So, where do we start?’

‘You and I collect two of the old dining chairs from Charlotte’s lair, then we leg it to the top floor, to collect the other four.’

It was as we were coming downstairs that Kenneth paused to admire the garden; ‘You know, apart from going to the bathroom, I was never aloud above stairs during your aunt’s reign, never really had the chance to stand and stare.’

‘I say, that was a bit fierce. Still, you must have lingered surely?’

‘Oh, no. That would never do. Rules were made to be obeyed; however ridiculous they may seem.’

‘Come along in, l must apologise in advance for the seating arrangements.’ I was playing the doorman, Charlie was hiding in the kitchen, whilst Kenneth put the final touches to the reception room. I repeated my mantra of abject inadequacy four times in all. However, upon entering the venue, the distinguished portrait engendered almost universal, positive acclaim. When everyone had settled, I said; ‘So Kenneth, the floor is yours.’

‘Thank you, Anthony. And thank you for allowing me to host, productive though the garden is, we all need something for the long winter evenings. Anthony has agreed to sit-in, I know my book choice is one of his favourites too. Wonderful to see you all, despite the inevitable changes to this room, I do believe Elisabeth’s spirit is to be found throughout the house and garden. Regarding our woes of the last couple of years, I just want to say, friendships must be kept up. Now then, my choice. John Buchan’s, The Thirty-nine Steps, is perhaps our first real thriller, the first British spy novel as we understand them, rather than a novel with spies, if you see what I mean. And a different sort of writing from the procedural crime novel. Written over a century ago and quite un-controversial until the nineteen seventies. Deeply unfashionable now though, for reasons I don’t fully comprehend, it has been a favourite all my life. I’ll say no more for the moment, but take some of your reactions.’

‘I was surprised,’ said the lady who used to work at the library; ‘I’ve seen the movies, the book was nothing like any of them!’

‘Four film versions, and not one of them made a serious attempt to follow the plot.’ I chipped in.

‘There you go, I knew you’d prove useful to have around Anthony.’

‘I read the book as a child,’ said another, ‘I never realised how modern it is, all about psychology and hiding in plain sight. Rather than deal with that, the moviemakers go for the “master of disguise” thing.’

‘They don’t confront the problems of the hunter and the hunted either, just lay on more stunts.’ Said a third.

‘How did you first come upon the book Anthony? You’re the youngest here!’

‘Er, wet lunchtimes at school, spent in the library. I consumed all five of the books in the series in the end. I rather took them all at face value. I saw the films of the first book and was greatly disappointed. I soon learnt I wasn’t meant to like the books. I also learnt to be on the lookout for terms like “abridged” and “unabridged”. Over the years I confess to becoming rather angry at accusations of anti-Semitism, of critics saying the male friendship was really homosexuality, that the books must be bad or racist because they were pro-empire. But to me, he caught my imagination with his realism, strange as that might seem, no one wrote better about being outside, on one’s own in a landscape. The narrator, stroke hero, if you will, is great at observation of the physical world and then greatly shocked to discover that the ability to hide in a physical landscape is so undermined by the invention of aircraft. He’s also very aware of how you can convince others by playing a part, of truly acting a role. But then suddenly all that is undermined as well, when he realises his own blind spots. The things he takes for granted. The enemy is succeeding, not by disguise, but by fitting-in with the social landscape, by playing the ordinary Englishmen.’

I was just wondering how long I should go on for, when the door suddenly flew open, there was a rattle of china, and Sparkwell appeared, appropriately uniformed, propelling the aunt’s old tea trolley before her; ‘Your comestibles, ladies and gentlemen.’

‘Oh, I say! You have done us proud Charlie!’ Exclaimed Kenneth.

‘Cucumber sandwiches and ham sandwiches, followed by Black Forest gateaux and English trifle with custard and whipped cream. Whose first for tea?’

‘I think I’m going to die of nostalgia.’ I gasped.

Proceedings, having ground to a halt for a good twenty minutes, got underway again when Kenneth turned and declared; ‘The accusation of anti-Semitism was something of a red herring, I’m sure you’d agree Anthony?’

‘Oh, absolutely. Only really sustainable if you don’t get beyond the first half dozen pages. As you’ll all now, know, an American character, who gets killed a couple of pages later, tells a story alleging the involvement of Jewish financiers in a conspiracy, the narrator is sceptical at the time, later the story is revealed to be complete nonsense. But is was a realistic view to give to a character at that time, the particular conspiracy theory existed in this country, and you could find anti-Jewish feeling throughout Europe and North America. So too, people’s real understanding of male friendship, companionship in arms in wartime. It’s been well said, soldiers don’t fight for their country or their generals, but to protect the men around them.’

‘A better accusation would be to say he was anti-homosexual, but then so were most straight people at the time. Do we think he was racist too?’

‘There is a kind of assumed superiority, Africans are routinely called negro, occasionally the other “n-word” is used by someone, it’s rather taken for granted that the empire is a good thing. All of which is an accurate reflection of society at the time.’

‘But what about real life attitudes to the Germans? And what of spies?’ Someone said.  

‘Of course, the novel,’ asserted Kenneth, ‘written in nineteen fourteen after the outbreak of war, and published the following year, has a context; MI6 was only created in nineteen hundred and nine, and the Official Secrets Act was greatly strengthened in nineteen eleven. Anti-German feeling, stoked by the popular press, had only come to the fore, when people realised the size of their navy, and that Britannia might be threatened at sea. But spy mania was rife, yet throughout the war only a handful of German spies were identified, something else Buchan got right.’

‘What a mine of information you are Kenneth.’ I responded.

How long the back and forth might have continued, who knows? But at this point Charlie reappeared and began clearing away tea. She whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear; ‘Hurrah, for Harry, England and St. George!’ From then on, the conversation, as it always did, drifted towards gossip and the state of the world today.

After they were all gone, Charlotte asked; ‘What do we do now?’

‘Clear up. Get back to the proper business of the day.’

‘Which is?’

‘Discovering the true nature of the taste buds of the dining committee, of course!’

End of season six.

77: Christmas and the blind tasting

As we drove towards the Park, on what might well prove a long Christmas Eve, Charlie was attempting to get her ducks in a row; ‘I realise how it works now.’

‘How what works?’

‘The Park, the club, the whole thing. You have what seems a modest role as chair of the dining committee, but when you add-on your various placemen, Cat on the membership committee, Barmy on finance, me at the spa. Then realise that all the action happens in the food and drink areas.’

‘But life is not made up of active or conscious conspiracies. For a start, people can’t keep secrets.’

‘What I still don’t understand is...’

‘As the innocent bystander said to the great detective!’

‘Just what do you hope to resolve with this blind tasting, if they can’t agree about what to order, this will just confirm that. What does it actually resolve?’

‘A little learning is a dangerous thing, as the poet said. Their problem, I suspect, is over confidence, they think they know wine.’

‘Oh, right. The novice knows he doesn’t know, so does the genuine expert, but the blokes in between.’

‘Right, and were a Master of Wine to walk into the room and tell everyone that quality is all a matter of personal taste, just order variety, they’d be disappointed and inclined to object. This test is the best I can do, to demonstrate they don’t know their own minds.’

‘Gentlemen, let me remind you of why we are all gathered here today. We are, alas, in dispute over what to reorder, so be it. We will proceed blind, in the scientific manner, and accept the biases of our own responses. Charlie, aided and abetted by bar steward Steppings here, has laid out the five most popular bottles from the cellar and the four we’ve bought in over the last twelve mouths, all have their labels covered and with a number assigned, each has a scale of approval on your answer sheets with optional comments section. All bottles were brought up yesterday so are at room temperature, the true measure of a wine. The spittoon is located in our special “expectoration corner” over there. Do not, I repeat do not swallow. Examine first the colour against the white table cloth or shirt cuff, inhale deeply the bouquet, taste, spit, pause and consider any aftertaste. Write it all down. Pencils with rubbers on their ends, are provided. All will be anonymous. Proceed gentleman.’ It was if I’d fired the starting pistol at the school sports. I began to circle the table, determined to exert a firm hand. ‘We are of course all, merely gentlemen, women have been scientifically tested and found to have a more sensitive sense of smell and taste. Slowly Tuffy, take your time.’

‘Remind me Tony, what are we looking for?’ Said someone.

‘Look at the depth of colour at the edge, a browning or rust like hue in a red is a reliable test of age, a more golden appearance in the whites.’

‘I’m getting a suggestion of autumn leaves.’ Said another.

‘With smell we’re looking for a remembrance of fruit, the distinct blackcurrant essence of a classic Bordeaux Red for example. Beware of nutty smells or tastes, suggestive of lower quality.’

There was much fevered activity for about fifteen minutes. Then they began to hesitate, amend their answers, and slowly come to a halt. I started collecting the paperwork before too many changed their minds or worse, realised they may have contradicted their previous publicly-stated preferences; ‘I’ll crunch these numbers over the holidays, the results will be posted on the notice board in the new year. Now, let us proceed to lunch.’

‘I think, that may be the most disgusting sight I’ve been forced to witness in a long time.’ Said Charlie as we moved to the dining area.

‘No one knows how to spit anymore.’

The first person we encountered was Julia; ‘Your Uncle has asked me to tell you, not to take offence at anything he says in his speech.’

‘Oh, righty ho!’

As in previous years, the Christmas lunch was principally a thank you, during which we observed the military tradition of officers serving other ranks. In our case, officials entertaining the paid staff. The climax was the Earl’s speech.

‘Once again it falls upon me to say a few words about the last twelve months. A year ago, my message had to be a digital one. Now, whilst the rest of the world wrestles with a new normal, we can proudly boast a return to, normal! Much of this has only been possible due to the efforts of my nephew Anthony in securing the summit meeting in the early summer, boosting our coffers whilst others were shut down. Equally, the ability to enjoy the club digitally has been much appreciated by all. At this very moment, members unable to attend in person, are able to watch me via the new security cameras we’ve all seen being installed. I also understand, that a virtual walk in the park, is currently in development. Our future plans also include an extension of the spa and the possible provision of a courtesy bus service between here and town. But however, a word of caution.’ Uncle hesitated slightly, I braced myself for whatever barbed comments might follow. ‘We live, alas, in an increasingly surveillance society. Remarkably, so far, this is not the imagined Orwellian nightmare, but we have each voluntarily agreed to carry upon our persons, the most sophisticated surveillance device ever conceived. Now it seems the geeks and nerds of the Web, rule. Anthony, I know is one of them. And he is, despite the restraining influence of Charlotte, somewhat prone at times to, overenthusiasm. Now I don’t know how many copies of Carry-On Prime Minister actually exist, a thirty-minute video of highlights from the Park’s security footage, covering the various visits of Buffy Trumpton - I think my favourite moment is his shadow-fencing using the antique toasting fork during the summit. However; I trust the only copies are those lodged in the hard drives of our and Anthony’s computers. But nonetheless, let us never forget, the Queen in parliament is sovereign. A loyal toast then, to Her Majesty and the late Duke, may he rest in peace.’

I was feeling less than one hundred per cent, as Charlie drove us through the winter evening towards Checkley and another Christmas lunch in less than twenty-four hours. ‘You look a little pensive, is there anything to be worried about?’ She asked.

‘No, not really. Interesting solution to his problem.’

‘But it was no mistake, you backing it up to their machines?’

‘Yes. Legitimately acquired security footage, property of the Park and the club. Those who may be concerned, can now consider themselves informed, especially since his annual speech will remain archived within the club portal. But he was covering his own back.’

‘How so?’

‘Wait and see.’

Uncle and Julia could only have arrived home about thirty minutes before us, but we found them, relaxing in the library. ‘Merry Christmas, one and all,’ began Uncle, before outlining the annual delights he had in store for us. ‘However, this year we have an additional, special treat, something to fill the gap tomorrow between the Queen and the cake!’ What fresh hell is this I thought to myself? ‘I shall be hosting a wine tasting.’ Oh my god. ‘A chance to compare our own two thousand and eighteen, with the nineteen and the twenty. What do you think of that?’

‘I trust there will be an expectoration corner?’

‘Very well, if you think you’ll need one, let’s say the sink in the old pantry, tomorrow, three-thirty sharp.’

‘What did you think of my solution to your home movie problem?’

‘Covering your back by putting it in the public domain - just!’

‘Absolutely. I felt a slight unease when I viewed it first, couldn’t work out why for a while, then I realised it wasn’t our footage that was the problem. It struck me the aerial footage was remarkably good and could not have been obtained through normal media.’

‘Then you realised it was also the solution, if all those responsible were also club members.’

‘Quiet so. Brandy?’

‘No, no.’

‘You know Charlotte is quite sceptical about all your talk of Buffy being your arch enemy, she sees you cooperating with him, and wonders what all the fuss is about.’

‘That is because it is a mad situation, as in M.A.D, mutually assured destruction. We each have enough on the other, to guarantee that we both work together to avoid both of us going down with the ship.’

‘It’s your expert opinion we require Tony.’ So pronounced Uncle as we contemplated the bottles under question; ‘What to drink, and when?’

The room fell silent. I took the situation as seriously as I could, tasting all three in turn, then a second time. ‘I have no doubt your wine making gets better over time, but alas that’s not the point. You have a unique terroir. However, conditions vary from year to year. The two thousand and nineteen is the best and will improve, it should be set aside and left. The two thousand and twenty is okay, will improve slightly, okay to serve to impressionable guests. The two thousand and eighteen however, should be drunk now, it won’t improve, indeed I should move it to the coolest part of the cellar and store the bottles upright, in time this carbonisation will increase and it may pop it’s corks.’

76: Fossil fuel Jack

‘Electric classics! Better fuel economy, electric conversions.’ Charlie was reading aloud the signs that now featured on Jack’s revamped forecourt.

‘It’s a front.’ I replied.

‘It’s an outrageous affront, you mean.’

‘I say that’s rather good. He’s just keeping up with the times, being seen to be Green. Much like Buffy Trumpton, with his hosting of this year’s climate conference, keeping one foot ahead of the opposition.’

‘How come? There aren’t going to be any electric classics, it’s a contradiction in terms.’

‘Absolutely. But it hasn’t stopped them trying, though I doubt he’ll sell any. Right now, they’re the most environmentally dirty and uneconomic cars there are. Even an electric hatchback has to be on the road for ten years before it has less of a footprint than its petrol equivalent. That’s the manufacturing process for you, let alone disposal.’

‘Why are we here?’

‘Ah, for a general chin-wag with Jack about our future motoring requirements.’

‘Thinking of buying a new car?’

‘When to buy, our last new petrol car!’

‘I’m rather attached to the one we’ve got.’

‘Well so am I, it’s just a question of whether we need what we’ve got, plus? Whether one could attach what we might need to what we’ve got, or need to start again.’

‘What more could we need?’

I avoided having to answer that question as Jack could be seen coming out from the showroom; ‘You two don’t look convinced by our new exterior.’

‘It’s not us you need to convince.’ I replied.

‘This coffee is, truly diabolical Jack.’ Opined Charlie.

‘Oh, thank you very much, it’s what I provide free to my crew, we sell it for one pound twenty, per hundred grams, at the filling station.’

‘Gut rot. Surely, as favoured customers we deserve better!’

‘No, no, darling. You’re the privileged ones. You get everything at cost. It’s only the punters I’m going to stiff, who get the posh stuff. Talking of which, you have a friendly firm of architects, don’t you Tony?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I’ve been wondering about how to stay ahead of things at the filling station. Been a load of chat about rapid charging recently. As you know I own the field next door. Been thinking about a sort of modest cafe - eat whilst you recharge, that sort of thing.’

‘Yes, there must be a punning name in there somewhere, something about recharging your batteries. Anyhow, if I may be allowed to call this meeting to order, when is it a good time to buy our last new car, so to speak?’

‘Now, as it happens.’

‘Really?’

‘The future is very uncertain. For example, right now, the factory has about twenty, right-hand drive versions of what you took to France. And that’s it. No more until fresh supplies of chips get to the contractor who produces the computers. And there are other bottlenecks to come. The price will rise, it might even pay you, to get me to garage it for you in the interim.’

‘The interim?’

‘Until you get a second, or double garage for yourself.’

‘Two cars?’

‘Well, registered as one each, but yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because they would both be appreciating assets. You should also pay me to acquire petrol engine spares to put in the store, for the same reason.’

‘I see, I think.’

‘It’s not like the situation with your junior officer. As I was trying to explain to him the other day, if he is serious about the old Triumph, he’d have to do all the legwork himself. Given the age of the vehicle. You know, join the member’s club, spend his Sundays going around meets and things, acquiring spares wherever he can find them. Not a service I can afford to provide.’

‘Have you met his new lady companion?’

‘Yes, she seemed very enthusiastic on his behalf! I understand you all went on a jolly.’

‘Ah! Now, yes, I knew there was something else.’

‘Yes?’

‘Are there such things as vintage minibuses?’

‘Sure, quite a few as a matter of fact, the question is though, who would want to collect any of them?’

‘Alright. What I meant was, are there any classic designs?’

‘Well, not to look at. Reliability wise, I guess so. There were the bay line minibuses from the late eighties onwards, Ford Transits or Dafs but with a proper bus body, made by a Birmingham company if I recall. High ceiling, automatic doors. Remember them?’

‘Oh, yes. Of course.’

‘Not much to look at, but without the advertising, could be made to look classier with two tone pastel colours, clever lining. Proper burgundy rather than red, and cream rather than white.’

‘You’re ahead of me on this, aren’t you?’ I smiled.

‘Well, with your club so far out of the way, and your lot do like to get pissed a little. I’d say a, three-times daily, courtesy bus service, to and from town, would go down a treat. Look very Green.’

‘What would you think Charlie?’ I asked.

‘You’d do us chauffeurs out of a job!’

‘Do a bit of research if you would Jack, whilst we decide about cars.’

Before she drove away, I found Charlie an online view of one of the said minibuses; ‘Oh, right. I remember them, they lasted for years.’

‘We could keep it at the stable block, bus stops at the bungalows and main carpark...’

But her mind was elsewhere; ‘Would getting a second garage, really be realistic?’

‘I don’t know, do you get the sense that any of the other garages are being under used?’

‘Not sure, Bernard might know.’

‘That’s true.’

‘Would you do that, give me one of the cars?’

‘Ah, small technical problem.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘Well, what Jack is suggesting would involve an outlay of over fifty thousand, for our own personal, fossil fuel, use. We’ve just changed the family trust into an overwhelmingly Green, charitable trust. Have we not?’

‘Oh, no!’

‘I’m afraid so. The trust owns this vehicle, that’s another fifty grand. It could only work if the trust owned both, and both for business purposes. But how one gets that past the trustees?’

‘But there is a way, though. I know there is, by the way you are talking. A way of getting a load of dosh for one of your projects. Despite my good intentions, I know you wouldn’t have sacrificed everything just to please me.’

I left a long silence; ‘It would involve a vote, to invoke certain obscure clauses, requiring myself, Bernard and Brinkley to vote the same way. And then another vote on the purchase itself. And of course, the two of them, would undoubtedly have their price.’

‘Cash!’

‘No, no. Conditions, insisting certain things were done their way. It will all require a lot of thinking through.’

‘What are our Christmas arrangements going to be?’

‘Well, working backwards, we need to be back home from Checkley Manor on Boxing Day in time to let Kenneth in, and for you and he, to lay on the Book Club tea. You’ll need to decide what culinary delights you’re prepared to tolerate, ahead of time, as it were.’

‘Oh, lord.’

‘Before that, I think it might be a courtesy to Julia, to turn up at a reasonable time, in a reasonable state, on Christmas Eve.’

‘Well, that’s alright, I won’t booze much at the club Christmas lunch.’

‘There might just be one little local difficulty though.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘The dining committee has decided in its wisdom to hold a blind tasting before the lunch.’

‘Of what?’

‘The best of the Park cellar, plus the stuff we’ve been buying-in this year.’

‘But why a blind tasting?’

‘Well, we couldn’t agree about what to stock for the next twelve months! Luckily, I’ll be the one devising the rules.’

75: The long day out

‘It never seems right, seeing the river so full of pleasure craft.’

‘Daphne! Yes indeed, never more stylish than when the Navy dominated.’

‘I think one of my ancestors was invited to review the college, before World War One.’ Chipped in Barmy.

‘Ah, one forgets, it wasn’t until the first decade of the twentieth century, that the British press started painting Germany as the enemy.’

We were all on the ferry crossing the river, to the one railway station in Britain that never had any tracks.

‘So, you see Mel, what is now a cafe, once had a booking office where you could buy a ticket to anywhere in the country.’

‘I’ve brought your book back.’

‘Excellent. I anticipated such an outcome and have brought along a new volume.’

‘More adventures?’

‘Of a slightly different kind. A book about Sherlock Holmes, written by a female PhD in psychology. Here, let’s do a swap right now, whilst we’re out of sight.’

‘God! Isn’t it going to be a bit advanced?’

‘I doubt it. I don’t know what the adults say about teenage frustrations these days, in my day everything was blamed on puberty, anyway don’t listen to any of it, your frustrations are about having an underused brain.’

‘You are terribly politically incorrect Tony.’

‘Oh, thank you very much.’

‘Mummy has taken charge of the packed lunches, could do with a drink right now. I bet they’ll snag all the wine for themselves.’

‘Ah, now, there’s a point. I should tell you on the quiet. Your father has never had a good head for alcohol, perhaps your mother is concerned you might have inherited it, apart from the fact that the female frame is smaller and therefore glass for glass, more susceptible to intoxication. Of course, she could also be worried about the prospect of man overboard. Anyway, how did you find the Adventures?’

‘Great. The opening story made me think of Daddy’s alleged grand connections, they came from Bohemia, born on the wrong side of some royal bed. Not the Grubers, obviously, his mother’s side.’

‘Hereditary bastards of Bohemia, sounds like a good title for a book, well, well, not the kind of ancestors to shout about.’

‘Is it true Grandpa used to be a spook?’

‘Snooper, not spook, well that’s the rumour, never actually had it confirmed. It is your mother’s father we’re talking about?’

‘Yes, he always says he was a civil servant. So, what’s a snooper then?’

‘Ah, well. First there were codebreakers, reaching back into the mists of time. Then add in military signals intelligence, Morse code and all that. Then whole networks of electric telegraphs, telephones, radio and finally the internet, all to be snooped upon.

‘Grandpa’s never been much of a one for tinkering.’

‘No, he, allegedly, got involved with how to interpret the product. Thing is, in recent times the US and UK have had the capacity to eavesdrop on all electronic communications from around the globe. So much data, that you have to come up with a system for the computers to filter it all for you. Then, how do humans set about interpreting what might or might not, be a threat...’ We were interrupted by a shout from over yonder.

‘I say! Are you two coming?’ It was Tuffy, gesturing from the riverboat. Everyone else it seemed was already on board.

‘Tuffy seems excited about his day out.’

‘Too excited. He’s taken to carrying his father’s hipflask.’ So said the Lady Vic.

‘Thank goodness it’s a small one, he hasn’t got his grandfather’s snuff box on him?’

‘Oh, I’ve not heard about that.’

‘Tried it at school once, but only the once.’

‘The thing is, he indicated he’s not too clever on boats, you’re not in a position to elaborate I suppose?’

‘I can’t ever remember being on boat with Tuffy.’

We made steady, one might say sedate, progress up the estuary, nonetheless a bit of a cross wind did give us a slight roll, along with the wakes of passing craft. Cat was getting into his stride as a tour guide. After a lengthy discourse on the naval college, taking us well passed the actual location itself, he barely had time to catch his breath before starting his preamble to our view of Greenway. Given Christie lived a long time, and indeed grew-up just down the road, there was a certain logic to giving a potted biography before the river narrowed and we came alongside the place she spent her declining years.

‘Looks like some sort of river crossing here.’ Said Walpole.

‘Oh, indeed. In modern times there always seems to have been a local boatman willing to ferry people across. But the village on the west bank has at least a thousand-year history, part of the church was started in Norman times, the tides are quite strong but at low tides it’s the last point on river that’s fordable, that’s why the village existed, why there was a road on which to build Greenway.’

‘One would never think it.’

‘Fords are often built-up and straightened artificially with river gravels, have to be maintained of course, remarkable how deep you can take a coach and four...’

Then suddenly he interrupted me; ‘I say, that Tufnell fellow is looking rather green about the gills.’

‘Serve him right for drinking too much.’

‘You know I once had cause to view the body of a man who died from poisoning, he had just that kind of distorted face.’

Sure enough, a moment or two later there was the sound of retching, and the sight of Tuffy bent over the side. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Charlotte.

‘No Charlie, let him be, he’s Vic’s responsibility now.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh, yes. Discretion being the better part of valour and all that.’

‘Very good, sir.’

After what seemed like hours, there was a palpable feeling of relief all round when we finally made landfall.

Cat marshalled us on the quayside; ‘Let’s stick together till the river bridge, then I can show you where we’ll be picked-up.’

‘The railway sidings used to run as far as here.’ I said, falling in with Walpole again; ‘Shame the preservationists of the other line going towards the Moor, never thought of including it.’

‘That would have meant permissions, in and out of the BR station in two directions, unthinkable at the time.’

‘Alas.’

‘Alack.’

‘Now then,’ said Cat pausing to address us all. ‘The bus will be on the hotel side of the road, access to the castle is via the main street, follow me group.’ And with that he promptly turned away, with our erstwhile neighbour taking his arm. Charlie and I followed behind. I’d previously decided there was no getting out of it.

A minute or two later my loyal confederate whispered in my ear; ‘Don’t look round but we’re not being followed!’

I waited until we were passing under the famous archway before looking back down the hill. With the exception of Mrs Walpole looking in a gift shop window, there was no sign of anybody.

Sparkwell and I sat side by side on the park bench outside the entrance to the castle. Having consumed our cans of red wine with the beef sandwiches whilst on the boat, we now rewarded ourselves with the cheese sarnies and water!

‘You do realise we have less sex than we used to.’

‘Really? I hadn’t noticed.’

‘Well neither had I. It only came to me by accident.’

‘It doesn’t bother you?’

‘No. Well, not until I started wondering about whether it should. It’s kind of unfamiliar territory to me, being with someone for so long. I mean, I’d heard from others that things drop off.’

‘An unfortunate turn of phrase. Fact is, this is all rather unfamiliar to me too.’

We were prevented from further discussion by Cat and his companion emerging from the castle. She was saying; ‘So, the proper beacon hills to the west and east are both higher but out of sight, because we are lower than the surrounding hills, despite being at the high point in the valley. Is that what you are saying?’

74: Packed lunch provided

I had feared we’d be barely out of the Park carpark before someone started on their packed lunch. As it happened, most people simply had a poke about, resisting temptation. Contained within each brown paper package, with handles, was a bottle of our water, a can of red wine and a miniature, two rounds of sandwiches (one beef, one cheese) and of course, an apple.

I was most impressed with the coach, its sleek curved lines, manufactured with detail and care in the nineteen fifties. The thought given to offering real support to the seating, real visibility out of the windows. The two-tone paint job was pleasing to the eye too, but nonetheless it was the same design, though then in plainer colours, which had taken all kinds of passengers on cross country journeys for many years. It was simply a more civilised way to travel than what was to follow. It did however, demand more of the driver, but then that was no bad thing. I was brought out of my reverie by Mrs Walpole’s voice behind me. ‘Don’t you find the country so much more romantic than the city Walpole?’

‘Yes, it still has dirt and grime. Cities are so hygienic these days.’

‘Oh, really!’

Before we were allowed off the coach at the bus station opposite the steam railway, Cat as ‘teacher in charge’ gave us detailed instructions regarding the itinerary, especially where we were to be picked-up again by the coach at the end of the day.

As we dismounted, I said; ‘Cat, I think I’ve spotted the flaw in your plan.’

‘Oh, I say! Really?’

‘We’re to be picked-up at the main bus stop, which is next door to the most famous hotel stroke pub, south of the Moor. Both of which, along with the river on which we will have arrived are at the bottom of the hill. And yet, you expect us all to take a hike up to the top of the town, before entering the castle. I doubt many will get beyond the pub.’

‘But surely Charlotte will have you taking the exercise?’ So said the lady from number forty-two.

‘Oh, absolutely.’

‘Alistair has promised to explain to me, why there was a need to have two beacon hills.’

‘Oh really! You’ve been brushing up on our local history then Cat?’

Getting to the train involved leaving the bus station, crossing a busy road, walking alongside the entrance to the conventional railway station, crossing over it at the level crossing, all before entering the space on the far side of the tracks dedicated to the steam railway. We must have resembled a co-educational school ‘crocodile’ by the end of it. Walpole commented; ‘Brutal, isn’t it. Worse than the Berlin Wall.’

‘You are aware of the story Harry?’

‘Oh, indeed. Everyone just calls me Walpole by the way. British Railways was really quite hostile to the preservation movement.’

‘My husband spent many years going on circuit. He used to enjoy the days of Brown Windsor soup.’

‘Yes, I was first introduced to that way of life by my old pupil master...’

‘That and the railway claret.’ She added.

‘Oh, really. Helene! No, BR, rather than cooperate with the enthusiasts, who of course were in large part ex-railway employees, divided the station in two, and sold off the accompanying land, all the way down the line, to the relevant local authorities, and in the process destroyed any possibility of a faithful preservation.’

‘What truly bothered me as a young lad, was the fakery of the rolling stock, again quite unnecessary.’

‘Thank goodness they’ve given us a coach rather than that “chocolate and cream” observation car, which should really be in southern region green and given to another railway altogether!’

‘It dates from that period when the Atlantic Coast Express tried to make it’s buffet cars look like pubs, doesn’t it?’

‘You’re far too young to remember them!’

‘Every inch of film has gone onto DVD, and now is mostly online too.’

‘Yes of course, so much easier to be an enthusiast these days.’

‘Just a lot less to be enthusiastic about!’

Our reserved carriage, was a mark one British Railways coach, an open second as it happened, which any self-respecting train spotter would recognise. None of them had gone into service before nineteen fifty-one, either in a maroon, or a ‘blood and custard’ livery, yet we were confronted with one painted in traditional Great Western Railway ‘chocolate and cream’ and with an ascribed name!

‘Come on, it’s the seat that counts.’ Said Walpole.

We were quick enough to grab a double table, but were disappointed as our bottoms sunk to an uneven halt. ‘Damn it! You’d have thought they’d have the courtesy to stuff them properly once in a while.’

‘Really Walpole, are you going to find fault with everything. They are volunteers after all.’

I tried to be conciliatory; ‘Well, we won’t be travelling at more than twenty-five miles an hour.’

‘Now there’s another thing. I put to you members of the jury, that throughout its life as part of the GWR, this was a main line - the Bay Express left Paddington daily - it had to be, it carried thousands of navy cadets to the Royal Naval College. It may be a single track from here on but the terminus was designed to take the largest trains and maintain the largest locomotives. Why both Princess Elisabeth and Phillip Mountbatten travelled this way before the war...’

‘Oh, do be quiet Walpole! It’s not your job to make speeches anymore.’

‘In that case I shall make a start on my can of wine.’

‘Dare one mention Agatha Christie? She was most certainly a regular traveller on this line.’ I asserted as we cantered along between beach and countryside.

‘Oh, I do like a good Christie, do you Anthony? Walpole disagrees, as usual.’

Harry had his can open, so I continued whilst I had the chance. ‘I think she improved a lot over the years; indeed, I think her final Miss Marple novels were her best. A character not that different from herself.’

‘I wonder if these crime writers would actually be any good at solving real life crimes?’ Asked Charlie.

‘Ah! Now you’ve put your finger on the bull point, young Charlotte.’ Asserted Walpole. ‘I must say this wine is real quite acceptable Anthony, better than the crude Bordeaux type usually available to an Old Bailey hack. No, I doubt very much whether any of the so-called crime writers would make a good detective.’

‘Oh, come now Walpole, the only fiction you every read is Sherlock Holmes!’

‘Yes, but Mrs Walpole,’ I interceded; ‘Conan Doyle knows he’s not a great detective, he’s tried his best to be a student of Dr Bell at Edinburgh, but he knows his limits as a diagnostician, part of the reason he’s turned to writing.’

‘Thank you, Anthony. My point entirely.’ Then the train came to a gentle, but unexpected standstill in the middle of nowhere.

After a minute or so Walpole opened the window; ‘We’ve not arrived at Adlestrop by any chance?’

‘I hate the way literary types go on about Adlestrop. They quite fail to realise the location was irrelevant, that what Thomas was describing was an experience known and understood by millions.’

‘Absolutely.’ Replied Walpole.

‘What experience is this?’ Asked Charlotte.

‘Riding an Express, you suddenly feel the driver take the power off in the middle of nowhere, the train slowly slows down, clearly not an emergency, he lets it roll, hoping for a green signal so as to pick up speed again, trying to avoid stopping altogether because of the work and time that involves. But after a couple of minutes, he has no choice but to stop at a red signal. The noise and vibration cease, as the minutes tick by the passengers hearing adjusts, if a window isn’t open, someone opens one. The sounds of the countryside become the background, there is sense of peace and stillness within the train, however busy the world is outside. The fact that this happened to the poet at a halt on the mainline to Worcester in nineteen fifteen is just so much context, it’s only sixteen lines long as it is.’

‘Still worthy of inclusion in anyone’s edition of the Oxford Verse though.’ As Walpole spoke, we began to move again and proceeded without incident to the end of the line.

73: The art lovers

‘I’m on the train.’

‘And you’d like a pick up at the station.’

‘At two-thirty.’

‘No problem, see you then.’

‘You haven’t made any changes, have you?’

‘No.’

‘That’s all right then. Bye.’

‘What are we doing today?’

‘We, are off to meet the art lovers.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘A new exhibition apparently, poster art, nineteen thirties to the present day.’

‘Surely it all started earlier than that?’

‘Oh, I think so, but this is the mass-produced stuff, like thousands of copies of railway posters, commercial art and advertising, that sort of thing...’

‘I’ve something to say.’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘I’ve decided against a cleaning lady, if I get unhappy with your standard of upkeep, I’ll step in myself, much as I did at the apartment.’

‘Okay, but you do surprise me sometimes.’

‘I can’t do it, give orders, especially to someone in a servant kind of a role. I’m not you, I can’t judge the moment, or what to say, know the difference between a schoolmaster, the vicar, a gardener, a farm manager, insult your uncle in the first half of a sentence, then praise Julia in the second half. I can do equals when we’re alone, be a subservient servant or uppity servant in public, but that’s it. Daphne’s wrong, I’m not being understanding, I just don’t understand.’

‘There’s just one thing, what’s going on when you give orders to kitchen or bar staff?’

‘They’re not my orders, they’re the customers.’

‘We are just dropping in, it’s not a do?’ So asked Charlie as we walked the harbour side.

‘Correct, but it is the opening day, and they’ve only been going an hour, so no doubt there will be those who wish to be seen to be there.’

‘Welcome old man. Charlotte, do step this way.’ So said Tuffy, holding open the door. ‘There are just a few exhibition pieces, the rest are prints for sale, various ages, conditions, rarity. But the thing is we are now the sole local agent for new print runs from the National Railway Museum Collection, hoping it will be a nice little earner on the side, so to speak.’

As we wandered, Charlie confided; ‘How does Lady Victoria cope with Tuffy? I mean all the obsequious attention? I know I’d find it terribly, cloying. Worshiping someone, not the nicest thing you can do.’

‘Well, I imagine always having been a Lady, helps. She must understand what’s genuine. And if it’s for real, it is flattering. She has a natural confidence, she’ll know how much rubs off on him, she’ll know she’s good for him. She’ll also know of Tuffy’s reputation for falling in love every five minutes, and how, somehow, she’s managed to bring an end to all that. Tuffy may not appear much of a catch, but there is every sign the devotion is real.’

We ruminated awhile on the romance of train travel before the war, and wondered how much of it had been for real. After a minute or two I saw a familiar face approaching. ‘I say, Walpole! What ho.’

‘I didn’t think anyone spoke like that anymore?’ He appeared to be in the company of a lady, a little taller than himself.

‘He doesn’t usually, only when he’s especially happy.’ Interceded Charlie. ‘How are you sir? A pleasure to meet at last.’

‘Charmed. Likewise. Ah, yes. I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Helene. Helene, this is Anthony, part owner of Crawford Spa and his partner Charlotte Sparkwell.’

‘Surely, not by any chance...’

‘Yes, one time tearaway daughter of my old sparing partner down the Bailey.’

‘Good lord. You never mentioned any of this before Walpole.’

‘Well, it hardly seemed relevant.’

‘How are you finding life on the Riviera, Mrs Walpole?’ I asked.

‘Most relaxing. A lot less worry now, since I was able to drag Walpole away from the criminal bar, such sordid cases he’s been doing these last few years.’

‘Are you the art lover, Mrs Walpole?’ Asked Charlotte.

‘Oh, indeed. But alas only from a distance. Walpole never got the money briefs, unlike your father. I’m afraid we’ll never be able to afford the luxuries of your spa.’

‘Well, Charlie here managed to get herself signed-in as a guest most weeks, for the better part of eighteen months, made herself so essential to the life of the place I was eventually forced to persuade our accountant to put her fees on expenses.’

‘I’ve never understood the world of finance, one reason why I stuck to a life of crime.’ Commented Walpole.

‘An idea occurs to me, perhaps the two of you would like to be our guests on the club’s annual outing?’

We were just working our way towards the door again when we came across someone else previously known. ‘Good lord, Thayer! What are you doing here? Lady Victoria isn’t going bust just yet, is she?’

‘Not that I’m aware of, sir. I’m just inveigling myself with local society, better to improve contacts. Oil the wheels of business.’

‘Well, I guess we are amongst the well healed. Thank you for your negotiations on our behalf by the way. Has Brinkley paid you yet?’

‘No, but in fairness I only submitted the account a week ago.’

‘Still, one of the advantages of being on the premises, eh!’

‘Let’s go to the Harbour Cafe, I’ve not been this way for ages. And I’ve had word that Captain Bob wants to speak to me. Talking of whom, how do I properly account for my time at the night shelter?’

‘Ah, good question. I would say, any time spent in meetings or doing anything that smacks of administration can be legitimately marked up as Trustee work - and expenses claimed accordingly. But obviously, informal chatting with clients is something else. Ah, I’ve got it, any time spent where you need to be supervised by a qualified worker should count as voluntary.’

‘Yes, that works.’

Sure enough, the captain was holding forth to his table of followers when we arrived. After ordering at the counter, we took a vacant table outside. ‘By the way, just for the record,’ whispered Charlie, ‘it’s Captain Robert Forsyth RN.’

‘Thanks for telling me.’

‘Glad to catch you two together. I need your help, both of you. Charlie knows me as well as anyone, and since you’ve spent a lifetime looking after a family fortune, you’re a disinterested expert. Fact is, one really ought to make a Will.’

‘Ah, yes indeed. Do I take it your classic yacht is worth more than you paid for it?’

‘My god, Charlie said you were quick! Fact is I can trust Charlie to know what to do with my possessions, what I really value, who might value them or benefit from them after I’m gone, I just need someone with the clout to make it happen.’

‘Well,’ I said picking up my mobile, ‘the answer is probably to name Charlie as your executor, then - given she’s now a Trustee of the Trust - she can get my people to do the leg work, but still have the final say. Besides, she’s totally taken me over when it comes to moral or ethical decisions... Bernard! I need to make an appointment on behalf of an acquaintance. Just a case of drawing up a Will, but a chap with a lot to leave and a close personal friend of Charlotte. His name? Captain Robert Forsyth RN. Yes, I’m sure Lawrence will be interested too.’ I placed a hand over the phone. ‘Are you free next Tuesday morning? Sparkwell can chauffeur you over to our great cathedral city.’

‘Why all this now Bob? You’re not ill, are you?’ Asked Charlie a few minutes later.

‘Apart from the usual ailments of old age, no. The fact is, I’ve signed-up for a cruise. I’ll be off to the Falklands this winter, to take part in one of the fortieth anniversary tours. Had thought of sailing myself, but was advised against it.’

‘Thank god for that.’

‘Would have done, just can’t guarantee supplies of fuel at the south Atlantic ports. Still, one feels one has to be there of course, so an organised tour it had to be. It’ll be nice to see the old place again, though during the conflict itself, we never got near it.’

‘How come?’

‘By that time, I’d transferred to the old Merchant Marine, in charge of a refuelling vessel. Stuck in mid-Atlantic, doing ship to ship transfers. Hell on earth at times, terrified of collisions. Bloody suicidal for the boys on deck.’

72: Charlie takes leave

‘You’ll be okay, if I leave you for a week?’

‘Of course.’

‘No hatching of plots.’

‘Cross my heart...’

‘That’s alright then.’

‘Tea’s ready Kenneth.’

We sat at the kitchen table. ‘This is very good of you. I was quite prepared to fix my own refreshment.’

‘Least I could do.’

‘Since we’re alone, I thought I might approach the subject of fruits.’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, I was wondering what you might require?’

‘I, don’t require anything. But if you and Charlie are willing to go to the time and trouble, I’m more than happy to tell you what would get my approval and hence what I’d be prepared to pay for.’

‘I see. Charlotte has confided how involved you’ve been with your uncle’s place over the years, she says I shouldn’t be taken in by your stand-offish-ness. You do care rather a lot about the garden. And your concern betrays knowledge.’

‘I trust history Kenneth, this is a smallish Victorian suburban garden, if you think there is room for a plumb, and or apple, and or cherry tree, I’ll go with that. Also, traditional raspberry canes and gooseberry bushes - well, so much the better. As for strawberries and tomatoes, that really would mean all three of us mucking in at certain times of the year.’

‘All sensible choices, but a little unambitious perhaps?’

‘You started this conversation by saying “since we’re alone.” Is there something you couldn’t discuss in front of Charlie?’

‘Oh, no. It was just that, she warned me off, refused to brief you herself.’

‘She does know me quite well!’

‘You do have a south facing wall, sir.’

‘Oh, no! No way. I’ll not see you waste your declining years. Better to live without the worry, the obsession. You’ll be far more productive on general upkeep. And after all man, what do you get at the end of the day, a couple of shrivelled apricots, blotchy nectarines and probably a single peach.’

‘The wall does show evidence of previous ties.’

‘And since when was that evidence of success? Expunge the idea from your mind, I’ll forget you ever mentioned it.’

‘Your aunt once said much the same thing. There is one other, small matter, quite unrelated.’

‘Go on.’

‘The Book Club has settled on the reading list for the next six months, Charlie said I should mention my choice for Boxing Day, on account of her having seen a copy in your library.’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Buchan, The Thirty-nine Steps.’

‘Good lord! Although I don’t know why I should say that, just because it has become unfashionable.’

‘Exactly.’

‘You think the redoubtable ladies will appreciate it?’

‘I intend to mount a sterling defence of it. I thought you might care to join in, rather than just hover in the background. Charlie says you have one of those minds that absorb everything. I’m sure you’d be marvellous with examples, especially since age tends to wear so badly on the memory, for that which one read only yesterday, so to speak.’

‘I’ll be prepared to repel boarders then.’

‘Excellent. Anyway, I mustn’t waste anymore of the dry weather.’

‘I say, I’ve got a scheme old man, thought you might care to come in on it.’

‘Can’t be done I’m afraid, I’m under strict orders not to get involved in anything whilst Sparkwell’s gone fishing. She thinks, she’s the one who keeps me out of trouble.’

‘Whilst, in fact you have been drawing her into your schemes for ages.’

‘Oh, dear. Are people really beginning to notice Cat?’

‘Well, only those who’ve known you the longest, like your uncle and myself. Actually, it’s more of an idea for the club rather than anything covert. Just thought I’d consult a little before mentioning it publically and all that.’

‘You’re beginning to intrigue.’

‘As well as the Christmas lunch, we need to start another tradition, another event, say a couple of months or so earlier, start offering members a proper schedule, our own high days and holidays.’

‘Go on.’

‘An annual Work’s Outing, but in the autumn when the tourists have gone and we can get a good party rate.’

‘And your suggestion for this first event?’

‘Get the steam railway’s old charabanc to pick us up from the club, take us to their Bay station, then onward to the old historic navy port, finally a boat trip up the river to the castle on the hill.’

‘Could turn out to be a day of soggy sandwiches.’

‘But that’s just my point, our own reserved carriage on the train, just like returning to school in the old days!’

‘Yes, I don’t mean to put a damper on it, but anyone whose been around these parts for any length of time, has all ready done that itinerary.’

‘Not as group. Taking a day-off, or do I mean a day-out. Members only and spouses as guests. Or in your case, the two of you could invite another couple, so could Barmy and Daphne too, come to think of it.’

‘You’d need people who’d realise what it was, work’s outing or school trip, varsity club.’

‘Absolutely. Have to get the recruitment literature right.’

‘And of course, a packed lunch included.’

‘Now you’re getting into the spirit of it!’

‘Er, tell me Cat, just asking out of idle curiosity, who would you invite to join you on such a misery tour?’

‘Well, as yet to be determined. But recently I’ve been making friends with the lady at number forty-two.’

‘She’s the answer to life, the universe and everything is she?’

‘Ah, yes, very funny. You know to whom I am referring?’

‘Oh, yes. Always seemed a friendly sort to me.’

‘A widow, she and her husband both worked for one of the banks that have now deserted the high street. Comfortable pension. She has this cruise bug, like so many, well, any organised tour to places of historic interest, if it comes to that.’

‘You should suggest an exclusive tour of your parent’s place.’

‘Well, I’m sort of working up to that, if our day out goes without a hitch.’

‘I can just see you motoring off, if you take on that Triumph sports of Jack’s.’

‘The open road only exists for a few hours a day, at particular times of the year, even going strictly cross-country from here.’

‘Strictly, now there’s a word. An annual dinner dance, with a band.’

‘What?’

‘That’s another possibility, now the ballroom is back in commission.’

‘Oh, right. You mean a nineteen forties dance, stroke swing band?’

‘Absolutely.’ There followed one of those pauses for quiet reflection. ‘You know, I’m beginning to warm to this project of yours. Charlotte and I could invite Mr and Mrs Walpole along.’

‘And who are they?’

‘Well, he is a recently retired defence barrister, with an equivocal reputation.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘A bit of a thorn in the side of Charlie’s father.’

‘How often have you met this chap?’

‘Only the once, I was introduced by the Don. He having cut his teeth on some of Walpole’s more notorious cases.’

‘Not like you to instantly take to someone.’

‘Well, I suppose I do have an ulterior motive.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘Charlie made a spontaneous remark which made me wonder whether it wouldn’t be a good idea to get on the right side of old Walpole. A gut response that one would do well to pay attention to. She said you and I should watch out, that Walpole would see through the machinations of you and I, in an instant!’

71: The speech

Charlotte stood over my right shoulder, reading her tablet. ‘I don’t get it. None of this makes sense.’

‘Well, you know Rory...’

‘Yes, I get why he’d need a speech written for him.’

‘Not written, spoken, foretold if you like, at a time when he was highly suggestable.’

‘Yes. I get why words like these might be spoken by a right-wing MP. I just don’t see why he should go up against the PM. He’ll just draw attention to himself, I mean if anyone challenges him, he’ll fall apart in five seconds.’

‘Ah, but he’s under pressure to get on, from you know who.’

‘But if the PM prompted you, to get Rory to attack him, Rory won’t be going anywhere.’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’

‘So, what is the plan?’

‘Well Buffy just thinks it’s better PR to be seen to be pressured by others into doing the right thing, than suggesting it himself. Odd I know, something about the parliamentary party asserting itself, feeling it is really in charge, which of course it’s not.’

‘I can’t pretend to get all that, but what’s in it for us?’

‘Favoured status for the Park, a cooperative - if not particularly friendly - Chief Constable. All sorts of things that oil the wheels.’

‘Some people will notice these are not Rory’s words, and some of this is a blatant give away, “I won my seat by taking on the retired commissars of the metropolitan left who litter the English Riviera”. Quite a few people know that’s the sort of thing you’d say when taking the piss! And what of; “For you can only put the Great back into Great Britain, tackle the mountain of debt, and make us a going concern again with high and sustained economic growth. The Prime Minister has already spent all we can afford on the pandemic and stimulus packages for the North, the so-called Red Wall. The rest must come from becoming a low tax, low spend economy again. Yet as traditionalists it is our duty to maintain the military, the police and our security forces. Now the PM may not permit the word austerity to pass his lips, in this he is correct, for shaving budgets here and there for a few years will never be enough. The only way out is to cut absolutely the bloated and unnecessary state apparatus, the mindless bureaucracy which has grown around us all over the last fifty years. But, unlike entrepreneurial led growth, cutting the state is not a bottom-up process, quite the reverse.” The Beacon doesn’t normally reprint political speeches like this.’

‘Quite!’

‘Now this is just plain silly; “Number Ten must lead by example, the very cabinet table of which we are so proud, only comfortably sits eleven or twelve minsters, plus the Prime Minister himself and the Cabinet Secretary, there to record the minutes. With a reduction in ministries, there would be the chance of real cabinet government, again. Such was the situation the last time this country could call itself great. Now, we have a Cabinet Office employing a staggering eight thousand people.” This is the new Victorians thing I suppose?’

‘Absolutely, sounds a bit mad when Rory says it, but seen in cold print...’

‘And what about; “A Colonial Office of a few hundred administered an empire, now the same number hand out aid we can ill afford, for projects where we never discover whether they worked or not.” Is that true?’

‘It’s what the tabloid press believes to be true.’

‘Blimey, “a policy of intervention in the affairs of others is an outrageous foreign policy, hugely expense and merely encourages antipathy towards the West. I say trade, not aid.” There’s more, “the NHS has become a monster out of control, creating endless demand, as the population gets ever unhealthier. How wrong, Bevan and the men from the ministry were, to believe that the real cost of the NHS would fall over time as less people got ill.” Was that true?’

‘Oh, yes!’

‘I’ve had enough of this; we must get back to the garden.’

‘Is that your considered political position or a practical suggestion?’

‘Shut, up.’

‘Hang-on a second, does he get a mention in the editorial?’

‘Oh, yes. “A rare true-blue speech from the unknown MP who is only recorded as having spoken twice in the House of Commons. Perhaps he should assert himself more often for he goes straight to the heart of issues long championed by this paper.” A ringing endorsement then.’

Later that day I took a call; ‘I have the Prime Minister for you.’

‘Carrie!’

‘He’s using me as a bloody secretary now.’

‘You should get out more.’

‘Tell me about it, darling! It’s all right for him, he’s always out and about. Although, I rather think he wishes I could do a Charlotte and transform myself into a valette, when required.’

There was a sudden pause. Then Buffy came on the line. ‘Anthony! Just to say, marvellous job regarding young Rory, just the right tone, makes me sound like a sober minded judge. Ha! We can take it from here.’

‘But what will become of him?’

‘Well, he can’t very well accept a ministerial job now, after saying all he did about making cutbacks, can he? No, Chair of the parliamentary Whitehall watchdog committee should suit.’

The following week, Prudence approached me at the club. ‘Wasn’t he wonderful Tony? And I’ll let you in on a secret, it was all his own words, I had no involvement at all! I didn’t even see the script. What about that. You never believed it possible he could be his own man. As chair of this committee, he can call anyone to account, any minister, even Buffy himself. He is a force to be reckoned with. Now he’s being talked of as a future leader of the party.’

She seemed proud of her man, in a deeply unfashionable way. Feeling that perhaps life was getting just a tad too easy, I headed for the bar in search of a stiff drink.

‘Tony!’

‘Don! You’re spending a lot of time in this next of the woods, for one who’s meant to be a columnist for our leading national paper.’

‘I’ve been sent by my editor. He said; “You’ve got the connections, go be a reporter, find out about this MP who’s making the headlines.” Hoisted by my own petard. Having built Rory up at your request, now I’m being asked to knock him down.’

‘So, we are forced to ask, from whom does your editor take his orders?’

‘Better not to ask. Rather, why is it, that whenever I ask questions in this place the answers always seem to lead back to you! Or rather, you and your sidekick. Yet it also seems I’m in your debt, I hadn’t realised it was your recommendation that got me in here.’

‘We’re more than happy to have you.’

‘Rory is a chump. You contrived to get him elected, seemingly as a favour to his wife. As a consequence, this place, in which you have a financial stake, becomes a hive of political activity following on from the new MP’s support for the nation’s most notorious politician who in short order becomes the next PM. Now, I can’t write all that up, because it’s all too far fetched even for our readers.’

‘But you can’t go home empty handed. What you need is a nice little human-interest story about the life and loves of a chump, perhaps with a few choice anecdotes from an old school chum.’

‘Let me buy you lunch.’

‘I thought you’d never ask.’