107: Golf widower

‘I have no interest in this matter, what, so, ever.’

‘I’m not demanding action; I just want advice!’ So said Charlie.

‘The power is all with you, Buffy is just heading up the sub-committee, you’re at liberty to throw out any recommendations. But still, better to kill anything you don’t like before it gets written down, as a rule, usually.’

‘Usually?’

‘Well, from time to time you might want evidence of someone’s idiocy.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘So, let me see if I’ve got this right, you fear Buffy has given a nod and a wink to the people he’s approached, when in fact the actual list needs the approval of the full committee - that was in the terms of reference the sub-committee were given, I take it?’

‘Yes.’

‘So, who are these people he’s claiming to have recruited? Not that their names will mean anything to me, but their status?’

‘Two talent show winners, an ex-daytime tv presenter, a fiction blogger, oh, and a regional weatherman.’

‘All sounds pretty C-list to me. What of the pros?’

‘Well, we’re a bit better-off there; resident pros from Wentworth and Sandwich, plus a former champion and Ryder Cup Captain, with his wife!’

‘You say that, like I should understand?’

‘She, is a former actress and a useful player herself, but has a lot of experience at organising charity events.’

‘Well that all sounds not so bad.’

‘We’ve heard on the grapevine, he’s in cahoots with an ex-MEP, in the hope of persuading a certain golfing ex-President.’

‘Not a chance! He doesn’t have the clout, believe me. He’s just shooting his mouth off, flying a kite.’

‘Maybe not. I thought they were supposed to be mates.’

‘People have accused him of being a mate, mainly because he was the only world leader who could maintain a coherent conversation with the man. Say what you will about Buffy, he has a remarkable ability to connect. Now listen-up, he wants us to blow a gasket, threaten allsorts, he wants to flush us out onto open ground, see how far he can push us. Stay cool. Restrict any sort of comment to “the members would never wear it”, or “the membership committee would take a very dim view, kind of thing that gets a chap black-balled.” You know the sort of thing.’

Despite being underwhelmed, and considering myself well-off out of it, nonetheless simply by hanging around the club, and at home, meant I couldn’t stop hearing more about the imminent tournament. One day when Charlie wandered into the media room looking care worn, I assumed more minor golfing irritations were on their way. It turned out I was quite wrong.

‘There’s something I have to confess.’

‘Good lord!’

‘I’ve made a right balls-up of things.’

‘More golf woes?’

‘Well not directly. The thing is, I got bit above myself. I attempted a scheme, it blew-up in my face.’

‘A scheme? As in my kind of schemes, the ones you’re always disapproving of?’

‘I know, I can’t have been in my right mind.’

‘Well speaking as a schemer, more likely inexperience, rather than a bad scheme!’

‘That’s just it, my quarry said something unexpected.’

‘How much are you down?’

‘What? Oh no, it didn’t get that far. You know I’ve been getting to know Ada, helping her keep fit and that.’

‘Ah!’ I couldn’t help smiling.

‘You know, she’s told you?’

‘No, not a word. It’s just, I’ve an idea I know where this is going.’

‘Yes, you would, like her, you see me coming, thinking three steps ahead.’

‘It’s just the same kind of anticipation that anyone with a particular skillset acquires.’

‘Well, anyway. Ada is worried, she wants to stay at her bungalow forever and stay as a member of the club till her dying day, but she’s concerned she won’t have the cash and is thinking of selling stuff. I sort of, well started talking about her shares in the Park company, how they must be worth a lot more than she paid for them and that if she ever wanted to sell, I’d be more than willing to... Don’t smirk!’

‘And?’

‘Buy them off her.’

‘And her reply?’

‘She said, yes she thought I would be an appropriate recipient, but of course we would need to negotiate over price, she just had one condition, she wouldn’t go behind your back, I’d have to get your approval.’

‘And you didn’t see that coming? Ada knows which side her bread is buttered, clearly you don’t!  All these years, I’ve been treating you as an opponent worthy of my steel...’

‘Alright, alright, stop pissing about. Where did I go wrong?’

‘Well, specifically in the case of Ada, you may well know her very well, but what of her situation and her relationship to me as a major shareholder in the Park? She values her home more than her shares, okay?’

‘Oh, right.’

‘And they are really two separate issues.’

‘What will you do?’

‘Talk to her about the security of leases, protocols around management fees. And I’ll do that by visiting her at home, have you been to her home?’

‘No.’

‘Another mistake. I’ll ask her what the insurance are stinging her for? She’s got a unique porcelain collection; some individual pieces would keep her in hearth and home for several years.’

‘And the shares?’

‘She should be in the position to do with them whatever she judges to be right.’

I had hoped to absent myself from the Park during the golf, which it turned out was to be a three-day event, but I interpreted a friendly warning phone call from Carrie, as a call to arms. It seemed Buffy, who as far as I was aware didn’t know one end of a golf club from another, had entered himself in the tournament and been drawn against Ada Armitage in the first round on the first day. As we were parking, I noticed Cat emerging rather rapidly from the bushes, when he saw us, he changed pace and direction, and sauntered over. ‘Skulking?’ I suggested.

‘Just a little bit of business, on the side.’

‘What odds are you offering on Ada?’

‘None old man. Far too late. Drawing Buffy is considered something of a free pass to round two.’

‘I’m here against my better judgement you know.’ I asserted.

‘Well, me too darling!’

‘So, what’s the story?’

‘It’s the final straw, that’s the story. I’m going to give him notice to quit once this latest embarrassment is over.’

‘Will there be a row?’

‘Bound to be, he'll resent being told to walk.’

I left a pregnant pause, then said in my best conspiratorial voice; ‘What would happen if he, was to leave you?’

‘I'd be all meek and mild, he'd be on his way within minutes. You’ve had one of your ideas!’

‘Well, after you rang, I contacted Don Wooley and told him to get on the night-sleeper pronto, I’ve sent my assistant to find him. The idea is that he and Charlie should shadow Buffy around the course taking pictures. He’s up against Mrs Armitage, now she is cool headed, knows her limits, will keep her head down and not be distracted. She’ll play it safe and come in close to whatever is par for her. I’m assuming at some point Buffy will get frustrated and start messing around. Two or three shots over par at one hole will give Ada the match. However, a still photo of turf flying and a ball failing to take-off will often show a facial expression of anger or madness, right?’

‘Absolutely. But how does that help me?’

‘Suppose I could persuade Don to hold off publishing the pictures until he has a proper tabloid story to go with them? A kiss and tell perhaps. “Inside Buffy’s Downing Street” or something?’

‘He’d think it the ultimate betrayal. But it could backfire awfully! I don’t want to be chucked out of the club, and I want the pub to remain a success.’

‘That’s why, whatever you’ve got to tell, you tell to another club member. Don values his membership as much as anyone, and he’s already a keeper of Buffy’s secrets. You have to trust him to judge how much of what you say finds its way into the paper and how it’s spun.’

106: Summer camp

It had to happen one day. Charlie had coerced me, once again, into taking a run along the Downs. Then on down and along the beach for the walking part, before attempting at least some sort of run up the other side. I was half way up, when, without intending to, I found myself just giving up. I had a chance to recover a bit before she realised and came back down to investigate.

‘I’m exhausted, I’m for the knacker’s.’

‘No!’

‘I’ve got to face it; I can’t get any fitter than I am now. This is it. Self-care and all that. You go on. Leave me, save yourself.’

‘I can’t, if you’re not chasing my arse, how can I get to the top?’

As we strolled back to the house, Charlie’s work phone pinged; ‘A text from the laird, sir.’

‘Knock-it off.’

‘It reads; “We’re back for long weekend stop. Job done for now stop. God save the King stop.” What’s he talking about?’

‘The court of Lord Lyon has to talk to Garter King at Arms; he makes it happen. The stone of destiny, Scone Palace, as was. How to get it to England without it ever leaving the soil of Scotland, all that stuff.’

‘Did you have some kind of a stroke back there on the hill?’

‘Didn’t it strike you as a bit odd how quickly it was arranged for the King to hand over Cat’s castle after his father’s death?’

‘No.’

‘Now, I can’t pretend to understand, but one of Cat’s official duties now is to collect the stone of Scone at the Scottish border and transport it to the Abbey without it ever touching the ground, or whilst it’s still sitting on a bed of Scottish soil, or something - whatever.’

‘You’re mad, the whole lot of you.’

‘I thought we’d established that some years ago.’

We got home with just enough time to settle in the media room, before turning on live, to the event of the century. I must confess my heart sank when the carriage emerged through the gates of the Palace. Two aging figures squashed into the back of something that looked no bigger than a hansom cab, built for the previous more diminutive monarch no doubt. ‘It all looks terribly eighteenth century to me, characters out of a satirical cartoon.’ I opined.

‘Cinderella.’

‘My god, yes. “You shall go to the ball, Cinders”.’

‘Worse than that.’

‘How come?’

‘You’re too old! You think of the royals as an institution. Think celebrity. There is only one Prince Charming. And Cinders has already got her man. These are the ugly sisters! The ball has already been going for some time. They, are the late arrivals.’

‘Holy smoke! This could all go horribly wrong.’ And after a pause for thought I found myself saying; ‘Have you done any treats? I feel the urge for comfort food.’

‘Later, Kenneth is coming over for a late Coronation lunch, slash early tea on the patio.’

Cut to the Abbey.

‘Here comes Red Beard!’ She declared.

‘Dressed for a wedding. “Oh look, I’m the last to arrive.” He really should lose the beard; I suppose he thinks it makes him look more serious.’

‘Now you’re getting it.’

‘But this must all be awfully embarrassing for Canterbury though, lots of pre-reformation ritual, then the swearing of undying allegiance to the King as head of our peculiar form of Protestantism. He’s going to blatantly contradict himself later on, bringing in all the multi-faith stuff, that’s if the Lambeth Palace lackeys are to be believed, they sounded positively orgasmic about their new innovations earlier in the week.’

‘Father may be suffering an attack of apoplexy as we speak.’

‘Perhaps you should phone your mother.’

‘I’m staying well out of it.’

What with the quality of the cameras, and each one of the principals being mic-ed up, it was a very different experience to watching the film of the late Queen from seventy years ago. But in a way that just highlighted the changes between church and state. The grim determination of the archbishop was in itself a kind of intolerance, you will be tolerant of everyone and everything or else - if you know what I mean!

‘Blimey the Head Boy is reading a lesson, he’s a Hindu surely?’

‘They do these things rather well at Marlborough.’

‘What?’

‘Drawing boys into traditional ways of doing things. Finding inoffensive parts of the Bible is all part and parcel of it.’

‘How would you know?’

‘I made the cricket team one year, so you know, did the rounds of away matches. How long does this show go on?’

‘Concert tomorrow, street parties Monday...’

‘Less than the funeral then?’

‘Well, it can’t all go on for that long. The opening rounds of hosting Eurovision are next week.’

‘Oh, good lord. It’s the Summer of Camp.’

Not for the first time I watched Kenneth’s slow arrival from our first-floor bedroom window. He was still insisting on walking from his place, but had taken of late to sitting on the patio a while before starting work. A thought struck. I descended from on high.

‘How do you do it Kenneth?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Preserve one’s resilience with age I mean. I must confess, I just gave up this morning, towards the end of our run on the Downs. Charlie was not best pleased.’

‘By realising that however much you have to slow down, it’s better to keep moving than stop altogether. Besides the slower you move, the more you notice.’

‘Ah! The small things, the detail, the stuff one never noticed before.’

‘Rather makes you realise how unobservant or inconsiderate one may have been in the past! Perhaps that’s what the fishing does for Charlotte.’

‘I’d never thought of that. Aye, aye, talk of the devil.’

‘Alright old timers, shift yourselves. I need to lay out the table. I want to see at least fifteen minutes gardening activity out of you two before your Coronation Special.’

Whilst we were making ourselves look busy in the environs of the garden shed, Kenneth asked; ‘So, who exactly are all the people involved in your railway project?’

‘Well, there’s the Arlington Trust obviously, Gerald the owner of the railway hotel in town, Jack who owns the hotel at Morestead, the famous farmer’s retail co-op who operate all around the junction station on the Morestead line, the school trust who have the railway at the bottom of their cricket pitch, the Fell Mining Corporation who have all the extra land at the old naval port, and Brian, he’s our main man within the existing preserved railway.’

‘And who have you got on the inside, in government and the Department of Transport?’

‘Oh! Come, come, a gentleman doesn’t ask such questions.’

‘So, you do have people. You certainly wouldn’t get far if you didn’t.’

‘Who wants to know Ken?’

‘Merely idle curiosity.’

‘Your curiosity is never idle.’

‘Is this all your own work my dear?’ Asked Kenneth.

‘No, Chef at the club made it, he had a bulk order, he put one aside for me.’

‘Well don’t look at me!’ I asserted; ‘It was demanded by all the committee members, strict instructions to follow the official recipe too.’

‘That’s why Chef looked so miserable then.’

There was a pause as the three of us tucked-in.

‘Oh, no.’

‘Won’t do at all.’

‘Tasteless, and all, limp.’

‘Real men don’t eat quiche.’

‘Not much of the real man in our King it would seem.’

‘And he wanted his first overseas trip to be France!’

105: Pictures at an exhibition

I was sat in Lady Victoria’s executive chair in the bowels of the New Realist Gallery, with just the gentle hum of her dehumidifier for company, watching the activity above via her security screen. The system had recently been installed by the ever-reliable Fin Heptonstall, who naturally favoured the software used by the Trust. I could have watched it all from home, but that would have been cheating, besides I might want to make a timely intervention. Vic used to claim that you could tell by the intensity of the sound coming from her conditioning device just where Tuffy had got to in his daily round of adjusting windows, opening and closing the street doors and especially when he was out the back by the bins. Now with the new cameras, all was on show, all the time.

It was the opening day of the grand travelling exhibition of Steam West’s plans for the future of the county’s heritage. These days my fixed point of reference for understanding any social encounter is Charlie. Today she was low key, as was I, strictly one of the backroom boys. But it was her social orientation that cued my attention. I adjusted one of the cameras slightly and saw the object of her curiosity. It was Chief Constable Wainwright, who had clearly found a dead spot in security. She was adopting a power pose, but she didn’t seem to exude the quiet confidence that’s meant to go with it. Her self-hugging, folded arms practically crushing her hat. She was dressed, as usual, in the baggy white shirt and black trousers version of her uniform. Not having been the organiser of the event I had no idea whether she was here by invitation or not. Still, we’d not crossed swords for a while so I decided to have a word, or two.

‘This is a nightmare.’ She declared.

‘Oh, I don’t know, seems quite a convivial gathering.’

‘I meant this plan, a congestion nightmare.’

‘Well, only during various phases of construction, par for the course surely?’

‘Turning even more of the country into a heritage theme park.’

I moved a fraction closer and adopted a more confidential tone; ‘You know you’re not at all like other senior officers I’ve met, not that I’ve met that many you understand. They’d have turned-up much more formally attired to a do such as this.’

‘Men you mean.’

‘Oh, indeed. Edoardo, my tailor don’t you know, often tells of how ranking officers used to creep into his premises asking for alterations to their uniforms, for the more distinguished look.’

‘Vanity.’

‘No doubt. But, easier to adopt the commanding attitude if one is particularly smartly turned out on parade, one would think. And, though it’s hardly my place to say, it is rather obvious from your gait that you have a tight, trim figure below the crumpled...’

‘Shut it! Your Charlotte has been watching since you crept over. My men, have always taken it for granted, I’m gay.’

‘Oh! Right. And you think that helps with crowd control. But surely if you had a fully tailored uniform with traditional skirt, the right heals, and were prepared to flirt in both a nice and nasty way, that would be even more effective at keeping the zoo in order. And more authentic.’

‘Is this all you?’ She said, accusatively changing the subject. ‘Your Trust is just listed as one of seven partners in the consortium. It would be just like you to be the organising brain at the centre of this spider’s web of intrigue.’

‘Better to think of my role as, well a facilitator, helping to make what others want, happen!’

‘This, influence you seem to have over everyone, how does it work?’

‘Ah! The soft power thing. Well. That would be telling.’

‘I was approached by a very senior officer at an association meeting the other day, he said he wanted to “clarify” - that was the word he used - why I’d been turned down for the last few posts I’d applied for. He claimed my work in the peninsula was vital to London, almost as if we were some sort of adjunct to where the action is. I’m supposed to be keeping a lid on all sorts of things.’

‘Top bureaucrats do have a terribly obscure way of talking about things.’

‘And still, despite the Head Boy taking over, ever more files featuring your name, land on my desk.’

‘I suppose, being a loyal subject of the Crown, arouses deep suspicion these days...’

‘What’s this?’ She said pointing to some imaginative architect’s drawings.

‘Ah! Yes, in order to reinstate the full forecourt at the Abbey station we’ve had to purchase the short stretch of street adjacent to it.’

‘But...’

‘Yes, your eyes do not deceive you, within a few months the Railway Arms will have reverted to being a traditional pub, the original greasy spoon cafe will re-emerge to complement the eventually revived refreshment rooms at the station, and the old garage will miraculously re-appear again - with a genuine pre-war petrol pump.’

‘But this is all obstructing the pavement!’

‘Which is an illusion, the current wide pavement is mainly made up of land owned by the properties. That’s how we out-smart planning regulations.’

‘And just where do you think you’ll find such a petrol pump in this day and age?’

‘We already have it. It’s been in Jack’s lock-up for years.’

‘What! Right. Now you tell me, right now, where this lock-up is, my team have been hunting for it forever. We have strong reason to believe...’

‘You don’t wanna know.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, it would only cause embarrassment.’

‘Oh dear, how sad, never mind. Give!’

‘I meant to you. Jack’s been expecting you. He has the documents to hand; he can prove nothing is knocked-off.’

‘How come you’ve got these GWR insignia everywhere, not even the current operator can use them!’

‘Because every one is an enlargement from old photos that we own. We bought the publisher who bought out the previous publisher who spent all that time acquiring old photographic collections. They used to operate from part of the old maintenance depot across the way.’

‘Wait a minute, I’m beginning to see this now. This isn’t about old steam trains, they’re just a sort of “loss leader”. This is an old fashioned land grab. Old buildings for restoration, to create prestige buildings for high rents and expensive leases. What if the government holds out, or the unions won’t budge?’

‘We just keep on coming. I doubt they realise yet that we already rent the upper storeys of the Abbey station building, company HQ as it happens, although no one ever goes there, we’ve already got “Station House” on our letterhead.’

‘Someone will challenge you, I will, if I can find a legitimate reason.’

‘We have our defences set.’

‘What?’

‘A ghost from the past. Your old sparring partner, Henry “never plead guilty” Walpole is already on our team.’

‘Oh, my god!’

At which point Charlie wandered over; ‘Morning ma’am.’

‘Sparkwell.’

‘Is he behaving himself?’

‘He just tried to pick me up!’

‘Indeed. I usually find he has ulterior motives on such occasions.’

‘He does? What?’

‘Alas, he’s not taken me into his confidence. But it probably involves misdirection, distraction or disorientation; followed by sleight of hand, or you, simply not noticing anything he doesn’t want you to.’ Charlie had been looking around the room in a suspicious manner as she said all this.

‘I see. Excuse me a moment, I must take a closer look at those panels over there.’

When Wainwright was out of earshot, I said; ‘You really shouldn’t.’

‘I’ve spent far too long following you around, not to!’

‘So, what have you observed this morning Watson?’

‘I’ve been chatting to E. Bloomfield-Jones, founder and managing director of Bloomfield-Jones Consulting, the consortium’s PR company.’

‘Ah! I’ve not had the pleasure.’

‘I’ll tell you something funny, she’s a woman too.’

‘Good lord.’

‘And you might well have had the pleasure, she was a contemporary of Lady Victoria’s at St. Hilda’s, an ex-dancing partner perhaps?’

‘I’d better make efforts to find out!’