116: Girl porter

‘I feel left out.’ So mused Sparkwell.

‘But you’re always at the heart of the action.’

‘I may be present, but mostly I’m observing your actions!’

‘But your life is busier and more demanding than mine.’

‘Precisely, sir. Such is the lot of the deputy-assistant-undermanager throughout history.’

‘It’s an age thing. I’m the brains and you’re the brawn.’

‘Be afraid, be very afraid.’ And after a short pause; ‘What I meant was this railway caper of yours, not life in general.’

‘Ah! Well, an idea did occur to me some time ago, but I’m not sure you’d approve, you’d be the ideal person to, but...’

‘What?’

‘That you should be the “face” of the English Riviera Railway.’

‘As in model?’

‘As in poster girl.’

‘But railways are kind of, boys’ toys.’ So said Charlie, tinkering with her coffee machine.

‘Yes, and that’s one of the things we just can’t get away with any more. Especially a project such as this, dependant as we are on lots of volunteers and community support.’

‘Oh no! Not another woman in a masculine role.’

‘Girl porter, the cheeky chappie, tripling her wages in tips. Traditionally, porters at mainline London termini made a very good living!’

‘This would just be for a photoshoot?’

‘Well, maybe a screen printed, nineteen thirties style railway poster too. Oh, and the occasional opening.’

‘Opening?’

‘Cutting of ribbons etcetera. The problem would be finding an authentic looking uniform...’

‘But my picture could end-up, anywhere?’

‘Well yes, once we become popular. Permission to invite Edoardo for a lunch at the club?’

‘Exploratory talks only, at which I’ll be present. And of course, there would be both one-off fees and repeats coming with wider exploitation.’

‘Undoubtedly.’

‘Dear lady, a pleasure to meet you again. You’ve been neglecting me; it must be all of twelve months.’

‘I’ve not had the chance to wear-out any of your clothes yet.’ Charlie replied.

‘Tony! Is this true? More evenings out, I think. More trips to fashionable locations.’

‘Eddie.’ He was clearly in Edoardo mode, playing up the Italian side of his descent, in what for him was definitely a posh location. ‘Been enjoying more trips to Gstaad?’

‘No, we don’t go back. You just need to see it once I think. Very generous client, but showing off. You, you buy me lunch because you want something, value for money guy, more equitable.'

Cockney Eddie was sensing fun, as well as the money. ‘Order whatever you feel you’re worth, my dear fellow.’

‘So, Tony. You’re still going for the short hair, rather than the distinguished grey, like myself.’

‘Charlie is fully in charge of matters of style and taste these days, if you want to get to me, you have to get to her.’

‘But we all have our little affectations, you go for the flowery buttonhole, I the coloured handkerchief in the top pocket.’

‘Tony has a scheme, Eddie! A project. In which apparently, I’m just the pretty face.’

‘Anthony, how could you!’

The next forty minutes or so, despite intermittent chatter, seemed to consist in me watching Eddie eat, whilst I picked at my food, under the watchful eye.

‘So, this project involves clothes for Charlotte presumably, otherwise why would I be here?’

‘You’ve heard of this idea of extending the heritage railway?’

‘Sure. So, you’ve got a finger in that now.’

‘In a very modest way, I’m no expert on railways, but it seems a good bet for a small investment by the Trust.’

‘Don’t fall for the false modesty, he’s in it up to his eyeballs!’

‘I am merely a facilitator.’

‘Okay, I believe you.’ He replied.

‘I had an idea that Charlotte should be the face of the publicity campaign. Now obviously everything is modelled on the old Great Western Railway, better known as just the GWR, but also known as God’s Wonderful Railway. I thought she could be a sort of mascot, the cheery porter, there to serve, but she’d need an authentic looking uniform, and maybe with your contacts, such as Sally, you could make that happen.’

‘But why?’

‘Well at worst for the money! By the way, I note that both Charlotte and I are currently significantly in credit with you. But really, I imagined you might find it an interesting project, something to grab your interest, something other than using up your semi-retirement hours doing routine repairs?’

‘You know, once I was thought of as one of the best, the finest stitching applied to the finest cloth. You could have offered me the General Manager, or at least the Chief Mechanical Engineer, the designer of fine locomotives, but no you come to me for the lowest of the low, the cheapest of workman’s clothes. Not even worthy of a silver railway pocket watch.’

‘I never had you down as a snob Edoardo!’

‘I’m not talking that kind of class, I’m talking skill, quality, expertise.’

‘But I am talking about skill, it’s a performance, an illusion, like your valet uniforms. In the act of creating a uniform to fit Charlie, you transform. A tuck here, a tuck there. Suddenly the figure hugging trouser and the not quite big enough waistcoat...’

‘Okay, enough of the mansplaining.’ Chipped in Charlie.

‘Well? You hesitate Eddie, not like you at all. There’s something else isn’t there.’

‘You know my doctor would be most disapproving of my diet today.’

‘Well yes, I can imagine.’

‘All my life I have strived for the good things. When you get them, the medical profession tells you it’s too late to enjoy them. Just watching you two makes me feel guilty.’

‘Yes, well, I must confess, were it not for the presence of Charlie I’d probably be joining in with you. I’m sure she’d be willing to take you on as a private client; relaxation, therapeutic massage, meditation, a little gentle yoga - you’d come away a man transformed...’ Eddie looked like he was about to choke on his jam roll and spray the finest cream custard over all of us.

After much coughing; ‘My life would be intolerable. Oh! No disrespect to you my dear. I’m sure you provide a valuable service to those willing to live in the modern world. You are Anthony’s, what’s the name I’m looking for, a new thing people are calling themselves, a “Performance Consultant”, that’s the one.’

‘Oh, yes. She’s definitely that, in all domains!’

Then Charlie suggested; ‘Let’s take our coffees in front of the open fire Eddie. Oh! I almost forgot Tony, the club sec said he wanted a word earlier.’

‘Then I’ll join you later.’ If Charlie had an intervention up her sleeve, I was more than happy to let her take point.

When I returned to the lounge they were gone. Charlie caught up with me as I was loitering around the entrance, trying to work out what action to take over the latest games room notice; ‘No Recreational Play Permitted’, a good joke, Cat’s work no doubt, but it really couldn’t be allowed to stand. Ah, well.

‘He’s in!’ She said without pausing, making strides for the car.

‘What did I miss?’

‘He just wants a cut of the action with the railway that’s all. I got him to talk about his childhood. He’s south London, right sentiment old boy, just the wrong railway, he’s the Southern, rival routes to the west country. Our Eddie, as a young lad, spent the swinging sixties spotting on Waterloo Station!’

115: The gift of Christmas

‘Pray silence for the Monarch of the Glen!’ Said the club secretary, tired and emotional as usual on Christmas Eve.

‘I say, steady-on old man.’ Replied Cat Mackintosh, as he rose to his feet. ‘I have to tell you I don’t have a title as such, merely an office. It’s been handed down for many generations now, but that’s just a convention, it doesn’t have to be that way. For anyone who’s curious may I refer you to Lord Lyon King of Arms. But my real purpose in speaking today is to introduce our guest speaker, a man who has become familiar to you all over the last year or so. Distinguished at the Bar, by his, well, lack of distinguished-ness! A man who throughout his career defended the unfashionable defenceless, and therefore has remained forever a junior barrister. I give you Henry Walpole!’

As the applause died down, Harry began; ‘Members of the jury, you have heard all the evidence set before you by the prosecution in this case, it now falls upon me... Oh I’m sorry, force of habit. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today... No, that’s how my father began all his speeches. Ladies and gentlemen, unaccustomed as I am to public speaking... Well, I really can’t get away with that one! I know, how about. It gives me the greatest honour, to propose a vote of thanks to you all for letting me through the door. I must confess that throughout my humble career, I’ve been somewhat dismissive of institutions such as this. Dismissing them as full of status hungry social wannabes, who were really only there to cultivate connections either for the sake of getting more work or a better, richer, sort of client. Thankfully, you are a kind of corrective to all that, a counterculture perhaps, an antidote that provides a place to regain one’s sanity in a world gone mad.’

A low rumble of ‘hear, hear’ could be heard from the would be jury.  I was sat with Helene, whilst Charlie was paired with Walpole. ‘He’s quite a character in action, don’t you think?’ Spoke Helene.

‘So, I always imagined.’

‘Silence in court!’

‘Really, Walpole!’

‘My wife Helene, your Lordships, a stalwart supporter and companion down the years, but who really needs no support in this court of appeal. But to return to argument, these convivial surroundings offer a haven of peace as far in time and space as it seems possible to get these days from a country with twice as many people, and twice as many cars, plus four times as many pets as in my youth. And not a windmill in sight!’ Now the jury was starting to bang the table. ‘I must say the solar panels on the roof are very discreet. I know this because on days when I’m confined to home, I’ve discovered the club portal. The addition of drone photography, which complements the existing walk through the park and the three D, digital interior, offer, well, I hesitate to say it, but almost a meditative experience. I confess I’m often tempted to reach for a glass of the old cooking claret. And for one who started out in life in a vast, un-heat-able Church of England vicarage, where on winter mornings it was not uncommon to find ice forming on the inside of windows, both the virtual and real club are remarkably cosy. Life, throws together the most unlikely of characters and coincidences. I first appeared before you, as a guest of Don Wooley, who had been kind enough over the years to promote my notoriety by publishing somewhat lurid accounts of my more notable criminal cases. In many of these, I found myself up against a most disagreeable prosecutor who would insist, during regular breaks in proceedings, on telling me about the alleged activities of what he called his wayward daughter, described in much the same language he used towards the prisoner at the bar. I regret to have to tell you, that daughter was none other than your own Charlie Sparkwell.’ This brought forth gasps from the jury, and cries of ‘shame’. ‘I could go on and mention many of you, but I understand Christmas speeches are intended to be short. I shall end therefore, by simply confirming the rumour that I was that barrister, with the bad taste to attack the police evidence offered by one WPC Sonia Wainwright on her first appearance down the Bailey, now known to you all as Chief Constable Wainwright.’ More gasps from the jury. ‘Your lordships, ladies and gentlemen, please stand and raise a glass to yourselves, I give you, the club!’

I’d noticed Ada slip away from the table immediately the toasts came to a close. I found her sat by the fire. ‘I hope you realise you are sitting in a seat once occupied by a former Chancellor of Germany. I shall now sit here, where once a US president sat.’

‘How do you know? We were all banned from the club back then. And I was barely allowed outside my own front door!’

‘They needed our security cameras, they couldn’t shut me down, without shutting themselves down, happy days.’

‘I was rather counting on you being here today.’

‘You have something to report?’

‘What’s it worth to you?’

‘Ah!’ And after a pause; ‘When’s your membership renewal due, and the settling of your account, obviously?’

‘Couple of months.’

‘When it arrives, let me know, I’ll come over, pick up the chitty, and miraculously return within the hour with your new card.’

‘Umm. Not sure what I know is worth quite that much, yet. Is that how you got Walpole on side?’

‘Well, more Mrs Walpole to be precise.’

‘Oh! I was talking to her earlier, fearsome woman. Anyway, if you’re willing to do that I'll just keep going and we can argue about appropriate recompense at the end of it.’

‘You’re sounding like you know, you hold all the cards?’ I smiled.

‘My problem maybe persuading you though. Things only make sense with the right, historical mind-set. I didn’t get it, until on my second visit I inadvertently got inside the hotel on the other side of the Square.’

‘Go on.’

‘The existing railway owns and runs the passenger ferry and is responsible for the jetty. The local authority controls the riverside, there are two kiosks that need eliminating and the jetty has to go back to being adjacent to the booking office window in the outer end wall.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘Once upon a time, the whole layout of the hotel ground floor was orientated towards that booking office window. The lounge, bar, reception. The booking office had a telephone link direct to the signal box on the other side of the river, but most of the calls came from hotel reception. If you were sat in the right place in the lounge, you could see the comings and goings at the booking office window, the way across the square and around the inner harbour thingy for the hotel porter with a cadet’s trunk or first-class passenger’s luggage was obvious to see.’

‘Hotel was hub of the town; college, hotel, ferry, train. But surely the officer cadets had a halt of their own and a little ferry directly opposite the college?’

‘Only when travelling with other cadets with a barracks bag, holdall thing. Hotel was where parents stayed, where ward room etiquette was learned. The hotel is still the centre for the council, local business people, the people you need. Cars and buses take them around the houses, spoil the view, to destinations only occasionally desired.’

‘You’re telling me, getting the town on side is more important than the cost of the building?’

‘Put the building back to what it once was, you put the town back.’

‘I’m paying you for information, not for getting the building at their price to you!’

‘Maybe in the end it’ll all be one and the same thing.’

114: All in the family

Charlie and Melisa were picking the last of the fruit. Remarkable really, given we were getting so close to Christmas. Meanwhile, Kenneth and I sat on the patio, resting-up before the rigours of tea. ‘May I be permitted an impertinent question?’ He offered as an opening gambit.

‘You can try.’

‘How did your parents die?’

After a pause for thought, I decided to reply; ‘They died together in a motoring accident. Details remain somewhat vague, it happened abroad.’

‘When and where was this?’

‘Easter, nineteen eighty. Somewhere on the Swiss, French border.’

‘Do you know anything of the circumstances?’

‘The only detail in the documents is that no other vehicle was involved.’

‘Ever struck you how, convenient that might be?’

‘I trust this is leading somewhere?’

‘Yes. I apologise, I already knew, your aunt confided as much.’

‘But?’

‘But on the one hand whilst such sparse information let’s loved ones make their own narrative, as it were, on the other hand it is well, bureaucratically convenient for the authorities. Nothing is likely to be challenged, no urgent questions asked.’

‘And?’

‘Your aunt was satisfied with all that, it struck me you were someone who would want more.’

‘I am, but I’ve gleaned no more, from having all the family papers now, I mean.’

‘Thank you for indulging me. Changing the subject entirely, I don’t imagine I’m long for this world, I’ve already lived longer than any of the ancestors I’m aware of.’

‘You may yet surprise yourself.’

‘I like young Melisa; I’d hate to think she’d end up in any kind of trouble. It strikes me you might be a chap with the wit to see that through.’

‘What trouble?’

‘As I mentioned back along, I was one of the last national servicemen.’

‘At the cypher school.’

‘Quite. Well at the end of it all a very military, but civilian clothed chap turned-up, and persuaded me to join him in what we still called, Signals Intelligence, in those days.’

‘I think I see where this is headed.’

‘Yes, it was Melisa’s grandfather. Your Daphne’s father. Now, I only stayed in that world a few years, civil service pay and conditions being what they were, but they do say once in, never out! The point is, as far as I am aware Daphne has never worked in Intelligence in any capacity, but she’s always been very loyal to her father.’

‘She thinks you were regarded as unsound on account of having an eye for the ladies.’

‘And it takes one to know one. In the popular mythology chaps who go up to the university often think, long after the fact, that some doddery old tutor must have made overtures to them regarding joining the intelligence community, but their failure to recognise the fact demonstrated their unsuitability. Ever asked how you came to find yourself in Daphne’s company?’

‘Oh, really Kenneth!’

‘And more to the point, why someone would think you a likely target?’

‘A dysfunctional background?!’

‘More than that, maybe. I have no access of course, but you can’t help thinking like them after a while, often one isn’t even conscious of operating in the interests of another, the best informants may be quite unaware of what they are, better still a compliant populace...’

‘Enough Ken, I can only take so much of the hall of mirrors.’

The damp autumn-like air meant tea around the kitchen table. ‘Are you going to tell them your news?’ Said Charlie, looking in Melisa’s direction.

‘I’ve passed my driving test. Don’t have a car, but passed the test.’

‘Congratulations.’ I replied. ‘What sort of a vehicle are you looking for?’

‘A stealth car.’

‘Ha! Aren’t we all.’

And after a pause, Charlie asked; ‘What happen to Northcott Electrics?’

‘That’s a point.’ Another pause for reflection.

‘And?’

‘What?’

‘I think what Melisa is asking is, who or what, is or was, Northcott Electrics?’ Kenneth added helpfully.

‘Cat’s old second-hand van, before he got the Triumph sports, good for hiding in plain sight.’

‘Jack would know.’ Offered Charlie.

‘I imagine he would. He also has a “stealth vehicle” of course, to use Mel’s phrase, although somewhat more aggressive! Anyway, that’s all by-the-by, since Jack’s garage is our only contact in the motor trade, we must pass you over to them. Charlie, lay-on a guided tour of Jack’s place for Mel.’

‘Very good, sir.’

We all lapsed into silence again.

‘Melisa is going to do some more work experience for us, at Royal Oak this time, obviously.’

‘Excellent, but be sure you can work out how much involvement the college authorities will have, education is the same organisation as health and social care effectively, monitoring wise, if you see what I mean?’

‘Sure, won’t be for a while, everything should be official by then.’ Reassured Charlie.

‘Good.’

‘Of course, my real problem is university.’ Mel surprised me.

‘How so?’

‘Everyone assumes I want to go, should go. I’m not sure, not sure at all.’

‘And people - less smart people - feel affronted when the really smart person, for whom they thought they were creating universities, seems less than enthusiastic.’

‘You know, of course.’

‘But so does your father, what’s his take on all this?’

‘He just sits there like a lemon saying; “Anthony can advise you better on this.” Which sends mother like, crazy; “She’s your daughter, for goodness’ sake! You should...”; this, that and etcetera. But he just takes it.’

‘And you’re hesitating because?’

‘I don’t want one the professions, and I don’t want a lifetime of debt!’

‘Money’s not a problem, your father just has to phone his accountant. He’ll take a thrashing from your mother on your behalf, so you get the freedom to choose.’

‘I just want wheels, cash in hand, a trade, one of those jobs which is always going to be needed, something useful, something where I can see the result at the end of the day. As far as I can see, what with this climate thing, it’s just economic chaos and more wars about resources and stuff.’

I was shocked, though I hoped I didn’t show it, for what she’d said was music to my ears. ‘Okay, well that can go one of two ways, towards a craft or towards a skin trade.’

‘What’s a skin trade?’

‘Crimpers, the rag trade, street hawkers, vicars, tarts.’

‘Spies.’ Added Kenneth.

‘Alternative therapists, beauticians’ Said Charlie.

‘And, whatever training or courses you end up on, the principle is that you apprentice yourself to a master, who has the skills you need but don’t yet have. It may not be your actual boss, maybe someone from elsewhere who you never actually get to meet, or even someone long dead, but you lock-on to them and imitate them, and by trial and error over time... You know, what used to get me was people saying; “What are you interested in?" Or; “What are you good at?" The question ought to be; what are you enthusiastic about? What absorbs you, what makes you feel, maybe hours later, well that was really no effort at all!’

‘Oh, no. The time. Mother will kill me, again.’

‘Take some fruit, evidence of purposeful activity.’

113: Conclave

‘Shrublands!’ Exclaimed Sparkwell.

‘Correct.’

‘You do mean the care home that masquerades as a health farm?’

‘You’ve been there I take it?’

‘Very occasionally. Why choose such a place for your secret conclave?’

‘Well, we can use the community room for free.’

‘You know what I mean!’

‘Jack is confined there.’

‘Permanently?’

‘Who knows. Anyway, according to Junior Jack the only practical solution is for us all to trail out there.’

‘And why am I required to attend, sir?’

‘Security detail. You’re the only person who can disarm Junior Jack with just a wink.’

‘Why would I need to?’

‘Jack, despite his infirmity, still keeps an iron grip over the family firm, much to the annoyance of Junior Jack and young Jimmy.’

‘The sons you were at school with?’

‘Before I escaped the blackboard jungle at the insistence of the Aunts, and the assistance of the old family trust. But the point is the boys have remained rough around the edges and tempted to take the law into their own hands, because Jack failed to delegate and let them learn the ropes, educate themselves.’

‘Actually, for once that makes sense, remembering what Junior Jack was like when he was a bouncer.’

‘And given we’ll be in a care home, surrounded by the fragile boned.’

‘Okay, you win.’

In the end, all us visitors were sat around the community dining table as if awaiting the arrival of a King. One end of the table had been left free in expectation of a wheelchair, but it had the effect on all of us, of feeling we were being kept waiting by a status conscious boss. Charlie, having facilitated chairs and fruit juice, hovered somewhere beyond the open double doors. When Jack finally arrived, pushed by Junior Jack, he gave a faintly royal wave. When settled, he grunted somewhat curtly; ‘Well Gerry?’

‘Er, thank you Jack. Well, this is just an informal meeting, make sure we’re all up to speed. The formal proposals have all gone in, not sure how long we’ll need to wait for a response, Anthony?’

‘According to my source we should expect a formal letter of rejection within a couple of weeks.’

‘What?

‘Rejection!’

‘That’s the way it works, apparently. The rejection letter which we receive will have a set of recommendations as to how we should have framed our proposals had we known what we were doing. We take a rap on the knuckles, then follow the recommendations to the letter, whatever they are. But, if I’ve read our source right, then their proposals will be everything we really want.’

‘What a performance!’

‘The bureaucracy has to justify its existence, if they just accepted everything, they’d never get a budget, or two floors of prime central London real estate.’

‘Bastards.’

‘How, er, well placed is your source, Anthony?’ Asked Brian.

‘A senior ex-civil servant, in the ORR. There’s really nothing underhand about it, procedures are ultimately public documents. Public servants are there to give the public, advice. If one has the wit to know who to ask, that is.’

‘But we all signed off on the original proposal!’

‘Ah! I see your concern. The changes will all be procedural, about timing, fitting in with all else that’s going on locally. The main difference will be splitting the timing into three phases, one contingent upon completion of the previous, which suits us obviously, since the whole thing will take years anyway. All the legal hurdles, adjustments if you like, are already in the bag. There’s just one, minor contingency we need to prep for.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘All this is being done without the need for a new act of parliament, however, parliament does get to scrutinise, if it be so minded.’

‘But we’re running out of time!’

‘Oh, I rather hope it will go all the way to the wire! A slightly rushed approval probably suits us.’

‘You’ve got some bottle, Arlington! One day you’ll come a cropper.’

‘I think he’s right Dad.’

‘Oh, you do, do you?’

‘You never get beyond the fancy talk, Dad, that family trust of his is three times richer than it was in his father’s day, from everything I hear.’ At which point Junior Jack favoured me with one of his evil grins, pure schoolyard.

‘Well, the more progress we can make this year the better.’ Said Brian. ‘It is after all the fiftieth anniversary of us taking over our part of the existing railway, and this year is also the centenary of the GWR Castle Class locos.’

‘Yes, thank you Brian.’ Said our nominal chairman. ‘Well Anthony, I’m told you were tasked to come up with something to waylay any potential hold-out?’

‘Ah! Now then, gentlemen, we may just have had our first genuinely lucky break!’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘Brenda Radnor, that stalwart trade unionist of the old Left, has just been adopted as parliamentary candidate at the next election. In all likelihood a much-respected resident of that picturesque village that we all love and hate, will now be our next member of parliament.’

‘How the hell does that help us?’

‘She, will bask in the glory of bringing much needed employment to our neck of woods, and we, the true origin of those jobs, will keep quiet about it, when in the fullness of time the line to Morestead is unimpeded.’

‘Don’t ask, Jack.’ Said Gerald.

‘At least we’ll be shot of that dithering toff Flotterton!’

‘Dumping on old school “chums” now is it, Tony? Can’t wait to tell Jimmy!’ Followed by an even more intense evil grin.

‘Is there anything else you have for us Anthony? Before we move on.’ Asked Gerald.

‘Um, well, I have high hopes we can get the station that never had tracks nor trains, back.’

‘How? We’ve never managed it.’ Said Brain.

‘I’ve brought in a ringer, as our American cousins might say. A specialist in polite tea shops. An expert in picking up gossip amongst the more mature clientele, a veritable Miss Marple.’

At which moment Charlie clanged the unfamiliar swing door to the kitchen as she carried a fresh jug of juice; ‘Anyone for more?’

‘You can fill me up, darling!’ Said Junior Jack, turning on the charm.

‘I’m exhausted, having to survive only on juice, that is.’ I said, as Charlie steered us home. ‘Still, mission accomplished.’

‘Glad to hear it.’

‘You’ve got Junior Jack just where you want him.’

‘Have I?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘You approve then?’

‘Absolutely. Just, be sure it’s chicken feed you’re giving away and not the crown jewels!’

‘We need to go via the other Jack’s filling station.’

‘Okay.’

‘Wow! I had no idea.’

‘When were you here last?’

‘Well, three or four months I suppose, what with you doing all the driving these days, maybe longer.’

‘But you were right, it works because of location, and all these guys hanging-out are taking their official breaks here now, whilst their publically-owned vehicles are charging.’

‘He’s a clever sod, Jack. The town’s leading petrol head, is fleecing the climate-changers.’

‘Jealous?’

‘It’s the street-smart thing that I don’t have. Mind you, the sooner the ordinary parking is extended the better, because those workers still in petrol vehicles will want to join their mates in here. Ambulance crews and police officers not just filling-up but loitering, that’s what we want. Amazing how good the coffee tastes too!’

‘Wainwright would go ballistic!’

‘But everyone’s a winner, it’s the natural hub, it will look like the cheapest option in her budget too. Have you noticed what the screens are showing? Pension and insurance ads.’

‘Poor sods.’

‘Actually, given they have no choice over which card they use for fuel, we need a fix for that. Find a way to make sure the discretionary purchases only, determine the content on screen...’

112: The candidate

‘Your mail, comrade.’ So said Charlie, shoving her silver salver closer than ever to my chin.

‘Ah! Another communication from the worker’s party I take it?’

‘According to the advertising on the back. One day they’ll tumble to you.’

‘Not if this is the goods news I’m hoping for.’ And after a second or two’s perusal; ‘Yes! I feel a song coming on: “Everything’s coming up roses, for me and my gal.” What?’

‘We’ve only just seen the back of Buffy!’

‘And a good job too, his advice to members of the club to quit trying to noble the opposition from within was all very well for the faint hearted, but we are made of sterner stuff.’

‘You’re not seriously suggesting Rory can save his seat?’

‘Oh no. And before you say it, this is actually us staying out of politics. We are moving on, making friends with the likely winner of the next parliamentary election, getting her and her supporters on board the first train on platform one!’

‘Her?’

‘Indeed, the new candidate is a former regional organiser in the NHS section of one of our nation’s largest trade unions. She, goes by the name, Brenda Radnor; and guess where she lives, I’ll give you a clue, a certain picturesque village one stop short of Morestead!’

‘But surely, she’d be much more likely to be leading the opposition to you!’

‘But she, let me tell you is old school, made her reputation negotiating deals for her aspiring members, she like I, thinks in terms of capital and labour. And you can’t have one without the other.’

‘Charlie! Oh, there you are. Fetch the two-seater, Prudence is demanding a crash meeting.’

‘Has she heard?’

‘Who can say.’

‘May I remind you, sir, for the umpteenth time, Prudence doesn’t like me.’

‘Yes, I appreciate that, but I need you there as a restraining influence. If she comes over all, dying duck in a thunderstorm again, I may have no alternative but to put the boot in!’

‘Tony, what am I to do? Where’s Charlotte?’

‘Behind the bar fixing drinks. Do about what?’

‘Nobody else does their own drinks.’

‘Force of habit, the staff don’t mind, they pick up tips on best practice. Your problem?’

‘The party are revolting.’

‘So, I always imagined.’

‘Rory only just scrapped re-selection, Brexiteers wanted him to step down, due to disloyalty to Buffy.’

‘How did he survive?’

‘Said he was the sitting MP who’d won two elections, they couldn’t force it, something in the rulebook.’

‘That’s happening in quite a few seats I understand, the voters may agree.’

‘Everyone thinks Rory’s a loser now.’

‘He almost certainly will be if he says Buffy was right, but a wrong’un. How you imagine I can help you; I don’t know. Twice my advice was correct, and you’ve ignored it.’

‘But you said he’d lose, that’s why Rory went on the attack.’

‘I said he should stay loyal to Buffy, be the game and gallant loser, fight another day. If the party go down to a crushing defeat, the proportion of Brexiteers amongst the remaining dregs may actually increase, Buffy could well be back.’

‘What!’

‘Coffee all.’ Said Charlie as she took her seat.

‘We’re finished, it’s the end. You must have a fix, Tony!’

‘My loyalty is to the Trust, and their top priority is having cordial relations with whoever our member of parliament is. I’ve been swallowing my pride in maintaining relations with Buffy as it is.’

‘Do you want the opposition to win? This new woman is as left-wing as that over-sized, over-priced ice cream tub we faced last time.’

‘Old Left, not awoken. Trade unionist.’

‘How do you know?’

‘As I said, cordial relations.’

We fell into a long silence. ‘I believe in Rory, sometimes I think I’m the only one.’

‘Well...’ Charlie grabbed my knee, so I left the quip unspoken.

‘You’ve always been supportive Tony, why do you desert me now?’

‘Just because I’ve always cared for you, it doesn’t mean I always have an answer.’

‘Oh, really! Flirting with me in front of your girlfriend, whatever next.’ At which point she stood up, and promptly departed.

And when she’d gone, I thought aloud; ‘Why does she always remind me of Aunt Elisabeth?’

I few days later I left both Charlie and the car at home, and legged it into town to the social club for the meet and greet with the new opposition candidate. On the way I told myself, be boring, no jokes, just middle-class worthiness. She turned out to be quite a speech maker, and sharp with it too when it came to questions. Rory was going to be massacred. When it came time to mingle, I took my chance; ‘Congratulations! I’m Tony Arlington.’

‘Arlington, as in the Arlington Trust?’

‘Well yes, but I'm just one of seven trustees these days.’

‘You’re here as a member of the party?’

‘Indeed. I joined about eight years ago.’

‘But you’re one of the largest landowners and property developers in the county!’

‘Well not personally, I confess to owning a four-bed detached house and a two-seater car. But no, when my aunt died in the pandemic, I found myself the last beneficiary of a family trust that was set-up back in the mists of time to support the widows, orphans and unmarried daughters of a large extended family. Things had to change. It’s now been reconstituted as a Green charitable trust.’

‘But you own Crawford Park, turned it into a country club!’

‘The trust owns a forty per cent share in the Park company. The club just rents some of the rooms in the house, for most days of the year. But they are separate from the developing conference facility, the podcast studio and the expanding health spa.’

‘I see.’

‘The farms are being as organic as the government will let them be at the moment, and the town properties have a rolling programme of restoration, though I hear in the Press that we are being criticised for monopolising the supply of stonemasons in the south west.’

‘You’re involved in this new railway project; I saw the exhibition when it was at our village community hall.’

‘Excellent. We are hoping to end-up with about fifteen per cent of the eventual company that will own and run the line. But obviously there will be two operators, the heritage services will be complemented by new speedier trains for commuters.’

‘You don’t have the station properties yet!’

‘No, but I understand they’ve been made an offer, at the top of the market, whenever that was, two thousand and nineteen I think.’

‘Really, I didn’t know that.’

‘Still, you must be keen to see jobs coming to the village, and throughout the constituency come to that, assuming you’re successful. I’m sure you will be. By the way, if I can be any help with campaigning, media and such like, here's my card. The thing is, perhaps I shouldn’t say, but after my parents died when I was still a child, my aunts drew on the old family trust to give me quite a posh education, Flotterton was admittedly a couple of forms below me, but I have known him off and on, all my adult life. Anyway, I mustn’t monopolise your company, I’m sure there must be others you should be talking to...’

111: Captain Bob's cabin

‘Captain’s orders, sir. I’m to deliver you to his cabin. Forthwith.’

‘Forthwith? But you only got back at midnight.’

‘I know, but he said it was urgent.’

‘He’s not having trouble finding the rent, is he?’

‘He said to tell you, should you be hesitant, that it’s not just matters regarding The Grange but issues of wider mutual interest. Or something like that.’

‘I know what he means.’

‘You do? I don’t.’

‘Ahoy there!’ I shouted up to a half open first floor window. And when a head appeared; ‘Permission to come aboard?’

‘Escort the prisoner, if you would be so kind Sparkwell.’ Replied the Captain.

We were standing in the garden, having made a discrete entrance avoiding our own security, in view only, of those lounging on the patio enjoying their smoking area. ‘Who the fuck is that?’ I overheard a quiet voice say. ‘Charlotte’s bloke, he’s the money!’ Such was the not so low-key reply.

What had once been the late Admiral’s study was now stuffed with the as yet unorganised contents of the good Captain’s yacht. He could be heard rustling behind a pile of junk almost as tall as he was. ‘Here we go, now then what do you make of that?’ He was holding up a large, old, framed black and white photograph of a wide-open bay turned into a harbour, with a few scattered ships.

‘Scapa Flow. During World War Two, presumably. You want your old name back. You want this, er, shore establishment of yours, to return to being known as Royal Oak?’

‘Leading by a head, as usual. Here, take this, a personal cheque for the rent, from your tenant, for the time being, for this private house, which just happens to have a few guests right now.’

‘With you so far.’

‘Once the right name is back on all the documents you arrange for a very discrete sign, just for the postman’s benefit, couple of inches high, on one of the pillars of the gate, simply saying Royal Oak.’

‘Consider it done.’

‘Now, you and I know that the staff, paid and unpaid, have between them numerous certificated qualifications bestowed upon them by the mental health industry down the years, but we want to be as informal, and to be at arm’s length from local authority health and social care regulation as humanly possible. We don’t want environmental services on our back and most of all, want to stay out of the clutches of the Poor Law Care Quality Commission!’

‘You need a good lawyer.’

‘And you’ve got a building full of them.’

I took out my mobile device. ‘Bernard? Well, it’s not that early. I want you to place the file on The Grange in the hands of your best man on public health and social care, and set up a meeting for the three of us sometime in the next week, low key, a background briefing from yours truly.’

‘Breakfast, gentleman?’ Said Charlie, appearing from nowhere bearing a tray.

‘Coffee and doughnuts! With pink icing!’

‘Addicts breakfast, sugar rush, sorry about that.’ Replied the Captain.

‘So, what news from down the coast?’

‘The quayside is clear, with just the yacht alongside, the modern floating wharfs are beginning to clear, prior to removal.’

‘What’s the word on the dredger?'

‘Chugging along the coast as we speak. The cinque port charities are up in arms about their cosy relationship being broken, but the mining corporation has the money and expertise to go over their heads. It wouldn’t be a problem of course if there were more dredgers around...’

‘But that’s part of the point of it, rough up the Environment Agency a bit, make them realise that the Victorian, industrial-style of inland waterway management for commercial benefit, is the solution to sea level rise and the increased inland flooding from the weather, changes in land use, etcetera.’

‘A deeper, faster flowing river is a cleaner river.’

‘Exactly. Puts sand back on the beaches if you dump it right.’

‘And tourists.’ Chipped in Charlie.

‘And what have you got to report, Tony?’

‘The King has been made aware of the railway project and made encouraging noises, what we need now is for him to hear good news from the naval college. How is that going?’

‘Ongoing negotiations, visits scheduled. But how the King might hear about it I’ve no idea!’

‘It is vital that word should come from the bottom-up, might I suggest the next time you’re alongside the Commodore, or whoever it is, you enquire how they intend to memorialise the involvement of our late Queen and the Duke with the college? I mean, naturally the King would travel to unveil, or cut a ribbon, possibly survey other activities in the environs.’

‘Your world of influence peddling is a total mystery to me; I’ve often asked Charlie to explain.’

‘Ah, now I haven’t given you the final pieces of your end of the jigsaw yet.'

‘When my father was a child, the Great Western used to hand out their own brand of jigsaws to kids on their named trains.’

‘I’ll remember that. We have yet to acquire the station on the other side of the river, but I’m keeping my efforts there on deep background for the moment. What I really should mention though, is the coastal barge.’

‘You want to acquire a Thames barge?’

‘No, I mean a new, smallish, flattish bottomed vessel with battery-powered electric engine and modern sails.’

‘Good lord, I’m not aware of such a thing. What on earth for?’

‘To carry the steam coal from the new covered mine, which is located a mile or so up-stream from the coast and then transport it down the west coast to our quay.’

‘But that’s turning logic on its head!’

‘Somewhat counter intuitive I’ll grant you.’

‘That’s like pre-railway.’ Said Charlie.

‘Precisely. Green and cheap, once it is up and running, but from our point of view carrying a very valuable cargo.’

‘The locals won’t like the handling; the unloading and then moving it to over by the turntable.’ Said the Captain.

‘It will be bagged. Degradable and combustible.’

‘Blimey!’

‘But, has anyone made such a vessel?’

‘Well, almost. The Norwegians now have two electric powered, battery-charged passenger ferries doing the coastal, island hopping, fiord crossing, routes above the Arctic Circle.’

‘Yes, I’ve heard of that, whilst our local university is still pissing around in a little converted river-fishing boat.’

‘And modern sails have been added to small ocean-going ships.’

‘Still, one would imagine the Navy has some involvement, somewhere.’

‘Can you find out?’

‘Maybe. There is also a genuine original “coals from Newcastle” sailing barge in the process of restoration, they’re in desperate need of sponsorship.’

‘I'll pass that on.’

‘You’ve done it again!’ Declared Charlie as I exited the car to open our mews garage doors for her.

‘Done what?

‘Groaned.’

‘What?’

‘Every time you get out of the car these days you make a kind of groaning noise.’

‘Can’t say I’ve noticed, what I have noticed is my joints, or muscles or whatnot are getting stiffer.’

‘Well, attend to it. Otherwise, you’ll draw attention to yourself, people will start thinking you sad and desperate, too old for the car you don’t drive!’

110: Wine, whisky and gin

For once I was doing the driving. Charlie had her head in documents she should have already learnt, marked and inwardly digested. We were bound for the old bank in our great cathedral city, and meetings, various.

We began on the ground floor. ‘Have a glass of wine?’ Said Thayer almost before we were over the threshold. He very intentionally showed us the bottle. The label showed a vineyard on a steep slope leading down to a valley bottom being traversed by a narrow-gauge steam train. The wording above the view read; “County Estates Special Reserve”, the wording below in smaller type, “Douro Valley Table Wine”.

‘I say! Most befitting.’

‘It’s a head office initiative, adds a touch of class I shouldn’t wonder, what do you think?’

‘Oh, simply oozes history.’ I reassured him.

‘Here, let me pour you one.’

‘Well, I drove here, I may be driving...’

‘Go ahead, I’ll drive back, I need to keep a clear head, not at all sure I understand what all these meetings are about.’ Asserted Charlie.

‘They’ve been tying themselves in knots upstairs. Correct me if I’m wrong, but they seem to think you’re irresponsible, throwing money left, right and centre. See it as their job to rein you in.’

‘And what do you think?’ I asked.

‘All I tell them, is all I know. You told me to judge each purchase on its individual merits, that’s what I do, they all stand up, as far as I can tell.’

‘This wine is really quite acceptable, shame Porto ever sort to fortify it really, though of course one understands why.’ I was met with blank stares. ‘Yes, well anyway. The whole point of today is timing. Or rather to “be prepared”, so we don’t get tripped up by the timing. When, the consortium jumps to become one unified company, depends on when, the government makes its minor legal adjustments. We must be clear about what remains trust property, and what is exchanged for shares in the new railway company. Right?’

‘Er, right.’

‘Yes, right.’

‘Well, onward and upward then!’

As we entered Brinkley’s office, the one with the second-best view, we were met by the sight of our dour and usually abstemious accountant sitting back in his chair with an unexpected grin on his face and clasping what appeared to be a glass of whisky. ‘Celebrating?’ I enquired.

‘Indeed, I am. The numbers are in, crunched, and pawed over. In summary, we will be exchanging your Tufnell land inheritance for fifteen per cent of the new company. If the company then wants other buildings or any cash injections they can be negotiated for after the consortium has been dissolved. Furthermore, we already have informal agreement from the, er, personal accountants for Gerald, Jack and Brian. Cheers! Oh, I’m forgetting my manners. Any of you care for an Irish?’

Lawrence then proceeded to produce glasses and one of those bottles that looks like a decanter. It had blazon on its side; “Brinkley Associates”, plus the same strange copperplate squiggle that adorns their correspondence. ‘Well, just a taste, if you insist.’ I replied.

‘But all these documents, I can’t work out where all the cash has come from for all the purchases over the last year!’ Asserted Charlie.

‘Close the door a moment Thayer, if you’d be so kind. There are appearances, Charlotte, then there is reality. Tony, who is of course a constant worry, to you in your role as carer, to Bernard and I who can’t stop thinking of ourselves as being in some form of loco parentis, has played another investment blinder. All that digital monitoring of people’s behaviour is producing cash we’d rather not have hanging around. Over one hundred and thirty new models of car, lorry - and tractor I’m told - globally, have driver monitoring systems from the company Tony so casually references as his American investments.’

‘Oh, right. But we only own ten per cent.’

‘Size isn’t everything. We should move upstairs, I sense the creaking of old beams, Bernard pacing the floor.’

Each time I enter the second floor it seems more open plan, more about spaces, fewer desks and what is office, melds into reception, into kitchen and easy chair areas, no hierarchy at all. Bernard, in his semi-retirement seemed to be truly delegating.

‘An, “Integrated Transport Partnership”. That’s what we're going to be investing in?’ Said a rhetorical and slightly frazzled Bernard looking at his papers as we all settled in the conference room.

‘An, ITP. Under the nineteen ninety-three act and the two thousand and fourteen EU directive, with the additional flourish of a statutory instrument or two.’ I helpfully added.

‘I can't believe Lawrence and I are giving all this our precious time. And the new company is to be called the “English Riviera Railway Company”, good lord!’

‘ERR’

‘Or, the ER, R!’ Quipped Thayer.

‘Oh, cheer up Bernard, don’t be such a killjoy.’ Said Brinkley, to the astonishment of all of us. ‘It’s an ideal retirement project for us. And if I may be so bold as to quote your new friend and colleague Henry Walpole, speaking recently on regional television; “A chance to finally mend the relationship between British Railways and the preservation movement, in this the sixtieth anniversary of the Beeching Report”.’

Bernard, for the first time to my certain knowledge, seemed lost for words. At least for long enough for me to notice the bottle, cans of tonic and glasses on a tray, placed beside the comatose owl. ‘Oh, help yourselves.’ He declared with a careless waft of his arm.

‘Blimey! Mother’s ruin. “Merriweather and Stollard”, “organically flavoured gin”, gosh!’ Now Charlie was joining in. ‘Where did this come from?’

‘Both Bernard and I took advantage of a new small firm which negotiates such arrangements...’

‘A bespoke gin, from a boutique company.’ Said Thayer to no one in particular.

‘Enough!’ Barked Bernard, drawing himself up, clearly determined to take back control. ‘There’s a flaw in your plan Tony. You’ll be stuck with a Light Railway Order at best, you won’t be able to go more than twenty-five miles per hour throughout your so-called network.’

‘Wrong.’

‘How?’

‘Only certain items of heritage rolling stock will need a restrictive speed limit. The railway, in its entirety will be re-laid by the same contractors used by Network Rail and to the same standards.’

‘Who the hell will pay for all that?’

‘The government, they will be able to claim, and rightly so, that new and old upgraded services are being introduced. It’s just two operators. Side by side at the old naval port, the latest passenger stock for the Sunday, up Bay Express to Paddington on the short platform, alongside the previous day’s down, steam-hauled heritage service on the long platform.’

‘And what about the dodgy viaduct, huh?’

‘It’ll get the proper maintenance. The new rolling stock will split as it always did in the old days. The modern five-car, aluminium bodied stock weighs less than the heritage train. And it gets to go faster, obviously. The avoiding lines through our station get reinstated. More trains than ever before.’

‘Very well, put in your political fix Tony. Just tell us when to jump and we’ll jump.’

‘You’re drunk! I’ve never seen you drunk before.’ She said, as the landscape passed in a blur.

‘How time flies.’ I replied. ‘Five years, now I’m tipsy on the strength of half a glass of wine, two sips of whisky and a well tonic-ed gin!’

‘Too old, can’t take your booze any longer. And your memory is going, it’s almost six years, actually.’

‘Really? Good lord. Regrets?’

‘Of course not! Well, the odd minor irritations, sir.’

‘Well, you can’t have everything.’

‘You seem to.’ Was there a note of sarcasm in her voice?

‘That is because I am content, as your pal Kenneth once said, to be a large fish in a small pool.’

‘Very good, sir.’

109: The last peasant

‘We had a visit from the King a few days ago. Sat where you are now.’

‘Good lord!’ It was the only response I could think of.

‘Yes. In the west country tidying up loose ends regarding the Duchy, saying his last goodbyes, dropped by for an hour or so.’ Uncle was displaying his usual nervous tick of standing warming himself with his back to a non-existent fire. ‘Talked a lot about organics and the eastern European connection, doesn’t think he’ll be able to get out there again. Curious to know how we were getting on. Complementary about the wine.’

‘Really.’

‘Asked about progress on restoring the Park. Said the Prince had given him a favourable report.’

‘Well, that’s good.’

‘Asked my opinion of you, somewhat took me aback.’

‘My word.’

‘Hadn’t quite grasped that the couple he’d heard the Prince speak of, were the same people he’d met at Mackintosh’s place. Naturally I reminded him Charlotte had been honoured by the late Queen.’

‘I see.’

‘Fact is, he wanted an insider’s view, been hearing about your railway plans. Some sit down chat after a Privy Council meeting or some such. Wasn’t too sure what he was driving at to be honest. Said he didn’t want anything in the past to mess up the new stewardship of the Duchy. Quite a steam enthusiast it turns out. Anyway, some talk of an order in council, idea of that chum of yours, the one with the specs. So, I did the decent thing.’

‘The decent thing?’

‘Gave you a clean bill of health, said your Trust was altogether Green and that you were quite paternalistic towards the Park.’

‘Er, thank you.’

‘And er, he quite appreciates the inheritance problem, sands of time and all that. Well, better join the ladies I suppose.’

‘I've been telling Tony about our visit from the King.’

‘You might have waited so dear Charlotte could hear it!’

‘Boy’s talk.’

‘Do we accept that kind of thing anymore?’ Julia addressed the four of us reinstalled in the big kitchen.

‘When it’s a “need to know” thing, I’ve learned I’m often better off, well out of it.’ Offered Charlie.

‘I take the point, but consider it a reprimand Reggie.’

‘Very well, my dear. You still perusing your print edition?’

‘Just showing, the spread about the railway plans. I’m sure our readers are loving the pictures, but may find the plans alarming.’

‘Still, an exclusive, exclusive. Good for sales.’ I asserted.

‘You’ve got Gregson confused Tony. He sees you as the heir apparent, worried you’ll be distracted from country affairs by the railway. Not that it’s any of his business, he’ll be retiring in a few years.’ She continued.

‘Got to watch yourself with Gregson, never sure he’s on board with organics, more concerned with commercial farming, which is ironic really, more your grab whatever subsidies are going type.’ Added Uncle.

‘Well, I’m sure I’ll catch-up whilst we’re here.’

About twenty minutes later something truly alarming occurred. Julia placed before us what can only be described as a large bowl of assorted fruits.

‘Fruit! Just fruit? No pudding?’ I exclaimed.

‘We must all be mindful of our health.’ She said by way of explanation.

‘Charlotte’s opening our minds to sensible eating.’ Mused Uncle. ‘I’d have thought you’d be used to it. It’s what you get at home isn’t it?’

‘But I’m on holiday. Checkley is holidays. Sponge puddings, crumbles, it’s my reason for being here!’

‘Oh, grow up. Stupid boy!’ Declared Julia.

It was a few days before I got around to Gregson, I found him sat at his desk in the estate office watching YouTube! ‘Haven’t you got work to go to?’

‘Oh, hello, sir. I’m rather afraid it is work. Take a look at this. This, would you believe is a driverless tractor towing the latest laser sprayer. It, spraying from about a foot away, only sprays what actually needs spraying. The reduction in spray is colossal, and given the tractor is on cruise control for maximum fuel efficiency... I’m gobsmacked, sir.’

‘Wouldn’t work for wheat or barley I should think, too densely packed and variable even for that machine.’

‘You may be right, sir.’

‘And what will they cost to rent?’

‘Who knows! Hopefully I won’t be around to see it.’

‘You’re not unwell, are you?’

‘Oh no, sir. It’s just the wife and I have been trying to make our retirement plans.’

‘The tractor in this demo is not electric then?’

‘No, but it’s only a matter of time I suppose. I’m old enough to remember the start of it all. The wife and I used to enjoy Tomorrow’s World. Fifty years ago, that would be. They showed solar panels, wind turbines, oh and wave power, a barrage across the Severn to catch the tide. Of course, none of them has actually paid for themselves yet. And we’re all still waiting for our personal helicopters.’

‘Quite.’

‘Back then people just said the country, before townies invented the countryside.’

‘So, what are your retirement plans?’

‘Well, we were hoping to stay at the cottage, but I’ve not had the opportunity to discuss it with his lordship yet.’

‘I should try and get it all in writing as soon as possible, just in case either Julia or I suffer a blow to the head!’

‘It’s difficult sir, obviously my pension will be lower than my salary, and we pay a peppercorn rent as it is.’

‘What’s the state of the property?’

‘Well, that’s another thing, in need of urgent attention I’d say, I rather suspect your uncle is assuming we’d want to move on and would get all the work done when it was empty.’

‘There is other vacant property on the estate that could provide temporary accommodation, not to mention within here, for yourselves or the new manager when the time comes.’

‘We wouldn’t mind that for a few weeks. But if we were forced off the estate we’d be at the mercy of the local authorities.’

‘Anyway, I’m pretty sure you need to get everything tied down and watertight whilst you still have, not only your employee status but your official position as farm manager, I’ll say no more.’ He looked a little confused; ‘Think it through!’ I added, with a grin, as I moved away.

Sometime later, as we were coming to the end of our summer sojourn, I found myself taking an evening stroll with Uncle. ‘You’ll be back to help with the vines?’

‘Of course. The best will be ready earlier this year, keep a watchful eye. In fact, you might think of picking twice, two pressings.’

‘But surely with the warmth we’ll do well anyway?’

‘Yes, but the walled garden is so well protected, and drained, you could push it a bit, really go for it. Ride out any storms.’

‘We’ll see.’

We came back by the river and as we were passing the Gregson’s home I said; ‘When are you planning on doing the restoration work on the cottage?’

‘When they’re out and it’s empty.’

‘It might pay you to get started right away.’

‘How so?’

‘The Gregsons want to stay on at the cottage after retirement. And what’s more, be able to afford to live in reasonable comfort.’

‘Damn! I had plans. It’s so close on the river, I thought of a wooden patio out the back, leading down to a pontoon thingy for fishing.’

‘But no one is interested in fishing, the river isn’t clean enough, according to Charlie.’

‘I know, but I thought if I could acquire the land upstream, the old abandoned brickworks, one could clean-up the river. The place may look green now, but it is a brown field site.’

‘Well, that might stop the river getting worse, but you’d have to start dredging from wherever downstream, possibly all the way from the old naval port. It used to be navigable for quite substantial river barges as far as the works.’

‘Ah, well. Such is life. And now you tell me Gregson is going to be a pain about things.’

‘Not to you personally, not necessarily. You know, you can’t sack him because he is competent, you can’t make him redundant because his work is essential. He can hang around for almost another three years. Now, if the cottage is properly part of the farm business, necessary worker accommodation, then he, as head of it all, is legally responsible. If repairs have become say, urgent on health and safety grounds, well, I mean, easy enough to lose a hundred grand in the accounts, spread over a couple of years that is, as you say he’s the man for subsidies, grants, tax breaks...’

‘All the same, he’d be sticking his nose in our affairs till his dying day.’

‘Maybe. Who owns the brickworks now?’

‘Some shell company or whatever, subsidiary of a subsidiary, goes by the name of A & C Restorations.’

‘Oh, well, good luck with that then!’