‘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.’
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