40: Summer wine

Late August, the smell of autumn in the early morning air, the return of Orion. I was at Checkley Manor, as had been my habit for some years, along with Charlie who was enjoying her second summer in the woods. But today would be different, we were scheduled to do a run into town on various errands, the principal one being the grand opening of Lady Victoria’s new picture gallery. However, our departure was somewhat delayed when, with a mouthful of toast, Charlie suddenly jumped up and declared; ‘That’s Frimley!’

She was pointing at the tv which sat in one corner of the big kitchen with its sound turned down - an old vacuum tube colour set that simply refused to die. After some confusion I was despatched to find an enhance-able digital version.

It appeared that breakfast television had gone live to Aberdeen International Airport, to a member of the press pack that camps out there on the concourse every year during the months of August and September, hoping to spot arrivals and departures, to and from Balmoral Castle. Two privy councillors had been spotted, there to ask permission, it was presumed, for parliament to be on holiday too - and, but one pace behind them appeared, momentarily, the one and only.

‘Ah yes, the tall chap with specs, I remember Coates, that’s his rear view is it?’ Said Uncle. ‘What the devil would he be bag-carrying for the government for?’

‘Special Advisor to the PM on constitutional matters, he is, no less, this countries’ leading parliamentary nerd.’

‘Can’t think why he’s there, he’ll be stuck in the servant’s hall with a cup of tea, the monarch meets alone with her council.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh yes, no notes taken, no nothing. Strictly speaking, that weekly audience with the PM is a meeting of the council too, the privy is but one room away from the bedchamber, remember.’

‘Amazing. So, if Her Madge, says that in the year nineteen thirty whenever, her father sent Chamberlain away for having the temerity to suggest something unprecedented, Frimley can’t jump up and say, but surely Ma’am in eighteen forty-seven etc.’

‘Precisely. You know my great grandfather, was once made to stand for four hours in full dress uniform when he was an equerry to…’

‘There ought to be a written constitution,’ asserted Charlie.

‘There is!’ Replied Uncle. ‘It’s there in every single document of the court, every decision, every time a subject of the realm has exerted their common law right to seek redress from the Crown since Runnymede.’

‘Good Lord, is that the time, we should be making a move…’

‘So, what was Frimley doing there?’ Asked Charlie as she steered us back to the coast.

‘No doubt in his mind it’s the ultimate Awayday! Of course, there is always the possibility that at this very moment he and his political masters are lost in the mist, having been told by a flunkey that She Who Must Be Obeyed is holed up in an ancient bothy with the dogs and whoever is her version of John Brown.’

‘Why would she do that?’

‘Well, apart from the fact it’s a more pleasant way of spending the morning than talking to politicians, if you’re in a position of power then absenting yourself can be an effective way of getting the decision you want by default. Uncle does it all the time, ask Gregson.’

‘That man has delusions of grandeur.’

‘I’m sure you’re right. But what does that make me?’

‘Oh, you’re just an upstart!’

‘Do you mind if we hang back and loiter for a few minutes, just observe a bit?’ I asked.

‘Okay.’

We were on the opposite side of the street from the gallery, itself a conversion of two adjoining shops, on that side of the harbour now given over to a marina for pleasure craft, whilst the fishing industry was confined to the other side. ‘I just want to get the lay of the land, the inside is still a bit in shadow despite all those spotlights.’

‘But they won’t have any trouble seeing us!’

‘That’s okay, we have all the time in the world, they need us more than we need them.’

‘That’s a pretty pompous thing to say.’

‘It’s a networking event, these openings always are - and people want to be seen. Vic won’t be happy until several local press photographers have snapped the cognoscente. We may not be the richest present or indeed the greatest art lovers, but we are chic, and we are the zeitgeist!

‘Oh, for goodness sake.’ And after a pause; ‘Are there really people richer than you in this town?’

‘Of course, you’ve met one or two at the club. Not to mention those with some of the bigger yachts behind us.’

‘Which one is this Lady Victoria then?’

‘The tall one, as skinny as a mannequin, with the dress that flows when she moves. Looks like she was once something in the ballet.’

‘She didn’t used to be one of yours?’

‘Er no, not my type. The traditional ballet look I mean, she’s not your more modern super athletic, all skin and muscle Darcey type.’

‘And it’s the muscles that get you all hot and bothered, as we know. Reminds me, I need to work more on my core.’

‘Hello, something’s happening.’ A couple were just approaching the doorway.

‘Hey, you were right. He’s practically touching his forelock. Who are they?’

‘No idea. Besides, you’re the one who should be learning to put a name to every face.’

‘What’s he wearing?’

‘Looks like some kind of ancient frock coat. Come on, let’s get stuck in.’

After twenty minutes of polite hand shacking chit chat and a glass of terribly hygienic Australian chardonnay, I finally got a chance to look at the pic-tures. ‘Tuffy!’

‘Yes, sir. May I be of assistance?’

‘I’m getting seriously worried about you Tuffy. What on earth is your father’s collection of Victorian seascapes doing here?’

‘Temporary loan old man, help the new venture along don’t you know.’

‘They’re not in the sale then?’

‘Well, I suppose Mother might accept an offer on one or two of them.’

‘Ah, well, that’s all right then. I thought for a moment I was going to have to organise a heist in the dead of night on her behalf. So, what hangs on her grand-ish staircase now?’

‘Well, nothing, just for a mouth or two.’

‘Tuffy, I’ve been entranced by these pictures since I was no higher than the banisters themselves. That’s positively cruel.’

‘Mrs Tufnell has been terribly sweet about the whole idea.’ Said a female voice from behind.

‘She’s terribly sweet about everything! Vic, I’ve just decided, I’m giving you your first big success as a dealer. Hear and now, before witnesses, I want first refusal on all seventeen of them. What’s more I’ll give them all back on permanent loan during her lifetime. Well, Tuffy? Promise me, you’ll tell me immediately if there’s any prospect of any one of them going anywhere.’

‘Of course, old chap. How do you know there are seventeen?’

‘I despair. Because, if you include the landing as one, there are seventeen sodding steps to your bedroom!’

‘Good lord, really?’

‘Now then Tony,’ Lady Victoria said, taking me by the arm; ‘You must take a look at these Metroland garden pictures from the forties…’

A week or so later when we returned to the apartment, there was a parcel amongst the half a dozen or so letters. Charlie hovered expectantly. ‘Well bless my soul, who’d have thought. Life is full of joy, and sorrow at the same time.’

‘What is it?’

‘A gift, from Tuffy’s mother, I really don’t deserve it. The note says, “you’re the person I know will value it the most.” It’s Tuffy’s father’s first edition of the nineteen thirty, complete Sherlock Holmes.’

‘Oh my God of course! So, he accidental bought a house with…’

‘Well, not really, the Victorians standardised a lot of stuff, that was a large part of their success. And of course, Tuffy’s father introduced the both of us to the stories.’

‘That must have been where it all started, you absorbing everything and Tuffy…’

‘It really doesn’t bare analysis.’

‘What does “the neo-deconceptualists” mean?’

‘I didn’t mean you had to change the subject completely!’

‘No really, I need to know.’

‘Don’t tell me, the other day some chap sidled up to you whilst you were looking quizzically at one of the pictures and said something like, “difficult to admire the neo-deconceptualists, wouldn’t you say?”’

‘How did you know?’

‘Well, it’s the sort of line I’d use if I were trying to pick you up. But no, it’s sort of an in joke. Think about de-concept, well that must mean ending up with no concept, no process, no thought at all really, then the neo bit is really just, a double dose of nothingness, second generation or another layer of nothingness piled on top.’

‘You and I both know we’re looking at crap with a thousand-pound price tag.’

‘Exactly. But we’re keeping quiet about, because life’s more fun that way; never give a sucker an even break - whether they’re the so-called artist or the collector.’