Good Friday found us at Checkley Manor as usual. ‘Does anyone remember the old-style fun fairs?’ I said to the kitchen table at large. ‘How they always had a shooting gallery, you could shoot down figures one at a time in a long line...’
‘And!’ Said Uncle.
‘Buffy’s happy few, his band of brothers are falling at an ever-increasing rate. And yet, new figures keep appearing as if by magic.’
‘Are you going to do anything about Tuffy’s attempt to blackball him from the club?’ Asked Charlie.
‘Ah, thank you for reminding me.’
Later, when alone in the grounds I put in a call to Cat. ‘Er, actually old man, Tuffy’s complaint is in the pending tray for the time being; fact is, Buffy’s membership is currently lapsed.’
‘Explain.’
‘Well, you know how membership renewal depends on the receipt of fees and the clearing of your account, well Buffy has stood a lot of bar bills in the last year, he’s been sent a reminder and all that, but he has slipped over the renewal date.’
‘I see. I think I might just drop a hint to Carrie.’
‘Might be as well, apparently, they’ll be at the cottage this weekend, bit embarrassing if she has to sign him in! Also, you might care to explain to Tuffy that under our rulebook you can only expel someone for behaviour whilst at the club, and that doesn’t include when the premises are being used for other purposes.’
‘Cat?’
‘Tony, old son.’
‘You couldn’t do me a quick favour, check bookings for the ballroom and if it’s free on Easter Monday, book it out to me for the whole day.’
‘Carrie!’
‘Ah, Tony. The voice of sanity.’
‘Bless you. Er, sorry to do this, bit embarrassing really...’
‘I doubt it, not when viewed from Downing Street.’
‘Yes, quite, the fact is, Buffy’s membership of the club has lapsed, failure to pay fees and settle his account.’
‘Shit! I told him, when I renewed. Hang on.’
For once she forgot to press mute; ‘I’m not bloody made of money! Tell him the cheque is in the post.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yes!’
‘Will it bounce?’
Then, after a long pause; ‘Tony?’
‘Carrie.’
‘He says there is a cheque in the post.’
‘Tell him, if he plans on visiting, make it Monday, but you may have to sign him in if the money hasn’t arrived.’
‘Very well, and Tony, I haven’t forgotten you were the one who persuaded me to return to the blighter.’
‘Running out on us again!’ So said Uncle when I announced our intention of leaving a few hours early.
‘Well only by half a day.’
‘All the same, what progress in the vines?’
‘I’ve brought you up to date with the pruning and tying.’
‘And what moves in the woods Charlotte?’
‘Your new eastern European hiring is a lot further on with the charcoal burners, than he is with his comprehension of English!’
On arrival at the Park, I took a direct line to the office, there to commune with the club secretary. ‘The ballroom is all yours, the PM’s debts got paid by money transfer late Friday, from some unrecognisable company account at a bank on Grand Cayman, and the man himself is working the room, the lounge that is, at this very moment.’
‘Excellent!’ I replied, exiting immediately towards the veranda bar, that being the best vantage point from which to observe Buffy’s progress. Much to my surprise, I found Bernard and Brinkley propping up the bar, in the company of Henry Walpole no less. ‘I say, what ho, Walpole! You know it’s a complete waste of time touting for briefs from Bernard, he likes to do his own advocacy.’
‘You forget Anthony, I’ve been put out to grass, by my wife.’
‘Yes of course, must be a bit of a wrench at times. And the two of you, a rare sighting indeed.’
‘Well, we are semi-retired Tony, Lawrence and I are entitled to our occasional indulgences. And as Walpole was saying, it’s always worth taking a look at the locus in quo.’
‘Something my old pupil master used to say.’
‘You should be swapping old anecdotes about Sparkwell QC, Charlotte’s daddy. Bernard’s suffered at his hands too!’
‘What brings you here Tony?’ Asserted Bernard.
‘Oh, just on our way back from my uncle’s place.’
‘Here to keep an eye on our esteemed Prime Minister?’ Suggested Brinkley.
‘Yes, alright then. Talking of which, would you excuse me a moment?’
‘How are you Prime Minister?’
‘Ah! Anthony. Under savage pressure as it happens.’
‘Ah, yes. Playing the international statesman, the war leader in waiting. Must take it out of you, but goes down well with the voters no doubt.’
‘I trust you’re not here to gloat?’
‘By no means. Indeed, I’m here to offer you what I just know you will find an amusing diversion from the cost-of-living crisis.’
‘Oh, yes?’
‘A short commemorative video of your previous visits.’
‘What!’ A micro expression of alarm crossed his face.
‘If you and Carrie would care to step this way, I’ve arranged a little private viewing in the ballroom.’
I whispered to Charlie, to ask her former handler come mentor from the security detail to lock us in, from the outside, and after a moment or two’s chat, he did!
‘What’s going on? Where’s my protection gone?’
‘I thought the four of us might appreciate a little privacy.’
The large screen worked remarkably well, despite the variable quality of the images in Carry-On Prime Minister. It also benefited from a little program I’d acquired for the removal of layers of ambient noise from audio recordings. Our little half hour movie featured sequences all the way from Buffy’s first landing on what was now the eighteenth green, to his post-run Haka!
When it finally came to an end there was a long silence before Buffy spoke; ‘Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is how to deliver a threat. Notice how he saves your blushes Charlie; you’re just simply portrayed as the innocent waitress. The editing is outrageous, talk about hashtag - context collapse!’ He then buried his face in his hands for about a count of ten, before asserting; ‘So, who apart from us has seen this?’
‘Only my co-producer Barmy, and my co-owner the Earl.’
‘You sure about that?’
‘Oh, yes. And of course, it can stay that way.’
‘I can burn you, as much as you can burn me.’
‘Well, no not really.’
‘What?’
‘All I have to do is send a copy of this to the media. You on the other hand have had two and a half years to fatten your dossier on me, and got nowhere.’
‘You can’t possibly know that.’
‘True, but what I can know with one hundred percent certainty, is that I never do anything, only the Trust does things, and it was entirely reconstituted before the summit. You, are up against a legal brick wall.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Full implementation of the Flotterton Manifesto.’
‘What?’
‘Everything outlined in Rory’s speech.’
‘I know what you bloody meant! That speech you wrote for him was pure fantasy.’
‘I didn’t write a word. I admit I was present when Rory, relaxing in the lounge after a massage from Charlie, came up with his ideas whilst staring deep into the log fire. Besides it doesn’t have to be practical. It merely has to inspire, create the right direction of travel. Oh, and one other small thing. A safe seat for Frimley Coates. After all, in fifteen years or so, he’d be your natural successor.’
‘Aren’t you forgetting something Tony?’ Chipped in Carrie; ‘All the other people who have him by the short and curly what’s it’s!’
‘Am I Buffy?’
There was another pregnant pause, filled only by Charlie asking innocently; ‘How did all this arch enemy stuff start anyway?’
‘It all goes back to the Scripture Knowledge Prize. I noticed just the other day that you’d claimed to have won it, again.’
‘But I did!’
‘Over the heads of better men, by the most brazen swindling methods, “breath-taking impertinence” - weren’t those the headmaster’s words?’
‘Something of the sort, can’t say I remember precisely.’
‘No, they say psychopaths don’t remember pain. But what I do remember was that the Head went on to give a speech bemoaning the passing of corporal punishment, and his inability to tenderise your arse.’
Then Buffy began to laugh. A moment later he said, smiling; ‘Anthony, you are a one-man walking nudge unit.’
‘Well thank you, you’re too kind, Prime Minister.’
‘I don’t buy it.’ So said Charlie as we were crossing the carpark.
‘Just as well, cos’ it ain’t for sale!’
‘What went down back there? You had him on the rocks, yet he walked away with a spring in his step.’
‘I showed him a way out, not just from me, but from everyone else gunning for him. It’s the game Charlie, the motivation is in the thrill of getting away with it.’
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