The new year may start slowly for some, but for us it had a vigour, not to say a vim. So far, my role within the new, old railway, had been one of facilitation and enlightened self-interest. Now, with more disruptive works coming, I needed to assert myself more. Any public discontent would not be ameliorated by consultation, only by practical evidence of improvement. Setting the right tone, the psychology of our restoration if you like, was paramount. As a non-executive director, I normally attended all the meetings that now took place in our boardroom at the Abbey station. But then came the day, when all the other board members foregathered without me, in expectation of watching a televised news conference, which they knew would happen, but which the rest of the county and the nation, most assuredly did not!
Charlie was driving me to this media event, which was being held at the headquarters of the national park, located in that modest town which serves as the main southern gateway to the Moor. On the way we were held up by traffic lights, due to restoration work underway at the town’s old railway station, the principal stop on the line to Morestead. Part of the works involved actually narrowing the road, Walpole having achieved a major coup by establishing that fifty years ago the local authority had acted illegally by pinching a three-foot-wide strip of land from the old British Railways.
Just as we were creeping forward, thinking these lights will change again any second, our dashboard screen sprung alight; ‘Blimey!’ Exclaimed Charlie.
‘Here we go, here we go, here we go...’
‘Shut-up!’ She said as we just escaped on amber. Then on the screen I could see a police patrol car appear from behind a hedge and take up position, up our arse, so to speak; ‘What does he want?’
‘Well,’ I speculated; ‘They’re not flashing at us, perhaps they’re here to escort us.’
‘There will be loads of VIPs, you’ll probably be the dodgiest one there.’
‘Quite. And we should be mindful of the fact this may be Sonia’s last chance, to have a go.’
‘Are you worried?’
‘Barmy and I have had contingency arrangements in place ever since he started doing government work.’
After being waved into our allotted parking, there was an almost immediate tap on the driver’s window from a suit, and as the window descended, so did a smiling face; ‘Charlie! Great to see you.’
‘Oh no, not you again.’ I groaned out loud.
‘Back by popular demand, with royal protection, sir. I’ll come round and escort you in.’
‘It’s because he’s an ex-marine.’ She said in our last moments of privacy.
‘I didn’t know that.’
On our way into the park authority building, security said; ‘The national park are hosting today, at your suggestion I’m told, so you’re alongside HRH as the major landowners, but slightly off to one side. The minister is the only speechmaker and the press haven’t been briefed, so questions will be limited. Speak later.’
‘I understand you are old friends, Anthony.’
‘In a manner of speaking, your royal highness.’
‘He’s back at the wife’s insistence, must be glad to be shot of the politicians. Be my feed when you think I need it. How’s Charlotte?’
‘Fine, in amongst the press, using the Trust’s mobile to take background pictures for The Countrywoman, but under embargo until after Kensington Palace, of course.’
‘Thank you. You’d be surprised how many Duchy farm kitchens have a copy of that mag open on the table.’
‘May I pass that on, sir?’
‘You may.’
The nation’s transport supremo could be seen bustling through the melee towards us; ‘Your royal highness. Arlington, I want you to know I’m only going along with this because Brenda has me by the balls!’
‘Brenda Radnor, sir. Our local MP, and the minister’s new PPS I understand.’
‘How I’m supposed to square this circle I don’t know.’
‘I find just sticking to the speech as written usually works.’ Said HRH with a glint in the eye.
‘Your Royal Highness, ladies and gentlemen. It is highly appropriate that today’s announcement of government investment should be made from the headquarters of the national park, located as we are in the town which will see the most immediate benefit. And alongside the Duke of Cornwall, Anthony Arlington, together representing the major landowners involved and whose cooperation has made today possible. For I can tell you now, this county will see, the completion of its motorway all the way to its western border. Detailed printed plans will be available after I have spoken. Over the next twenty-five years, with great care and sensitivity to the current and future needs of this rural environment, plus the need to correct the mistakes made when the current dual carriageway was constructed, the economy and environment will be enhanced. Within weeks work will begin on this short section, before moving east towards your great cathedral city. Let no one be in any doubt, the widening will be to the south side of the existing road. The eastern end will be elevated to allow a bridge over the new, old railway. With proper earth embankments, with tree cover, and the bridge constructed from the same stone as the original railway, from a disused quarry on Duchy land, allowing it in turn to be flooded and a wetland conservation area created. The current gateway junction to the Moor, will be reversed with the carriageway on top, the access roads underneath. With the growth of electric vehicles, noise and air pollution will take care of itself. The rainfall from the road itself will be collected to create new wetland conservation areas. The modifications to the road’s route will allow the size of the national park to increase, with all the protections for the environment and communities that affords. Access to the temporary roads required for construction will be given to the railway too, allowing ballast, sleepers and short rails to be delivered, the trialling of dual construction, cost-saving techniques for the more challenging work coming later to the east. Within weeks of the bridge’s completion, train services will return to this town...’
Once it was all over, with HRH gone skyward, the minster off with a police escort to the next stopping train with a first-class carriage, the national press in the car park searching for a decent signal, I wandered back towards our vehicle. I was met by the sight of Charlie leaning against the car, arms folded and looking decidedly miffed. I assumed, because she was being blocked by a police patrol car beside which stood none other than the Chief Constable herself.
‘Home Sparkwell and don't spare the horses.’
‘Not so fast Anthony.’
‘Sonia! Couldn’t resist a last fond farewell? Congratulations on your retirement, today your last public appearance?’
‘Next week, actually. But you, are going to be seeing a lot more of me in the future.’
‘Excellent! Your place or mine?’
‘I could impound this vehicle.’
‘Really?’
‘Using an unlicensed communications network to impede the work of law enforcement.’
‘Oh, come now, the Moor is covered in dead zones, and the park authority’s car park is notorious, something to do with overhanging tree cover in a hollow, so I’m told. You’ll find the local press tend to slip down the road to the pub car park. But your lads could have told you that.’
‘Charlotte told me she uploaded twenty high-definition pictures in seconds to her magazine via the car and your so-called “media room”. Explain!’
‘You left out, “via one of Eltham Makepeace’s satellites.”
‘Ha! Condemned out of your own mouth.’
‘Everything is legal, until the Crown makes it otherwise.’ Then I took out my phone.
‘What are you doing?’ She said as flashing dots lit our car’s interior in the winter gloom.
‘I just pressed my panic button. I confess that having a satellite channel does cause a little disruptive noise to terrestrial users that get too close, yet you noticed HRH got away without a hitch. You remember the double royal visit, oh no you weren’t there. Anyway, proof of concept, state security working alongside our drones and the Don’s moving cameras both operating on Eltham’s satellite internet. There need be no law when an unwritten, informal hands-off, unspoken agreement works perfectly well. We’re not in Europe anymore, their system is too old, too slow, not good with fast moving objects in close proximity. And no need to worry over Charlie’s photos, they’re embargoed until the palace have posted.’
Then Sonia’s work device pinged; ‘Sir? Yes, sir. No! I mean yes, at once. Thank you, sir.’ She looked at me with that film noir, curled lip. ‘Get him out of my sight Charlotte.’
‘I can’t until you move your vehicle, ma’am.’
‘Very well.’ Then another ping. ‘That’s my own mobile now. How’s that possible? “Eltham Makepeace is following you.” Oh, God. “Eltham Makepeace posted on your profile” Hell! “Congratulations on your retirement” Balloons and everything. I’ll delete it.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t do that. Whoever your retirement project is with, would be most unhappy. You’re going to be a major league media influencer within hours.’
End of season eleven
