85: Picture perfect

‘Why am I doing this?’ Charlie complained as we sat at our side-by-side desks in the media room.

‘Because Julia asked you to.’

‘But I’m not a journalist, not even a photographer, just the trigger man for whatever you set up.’

‘It’s a picture feature Charlie, really only extended captions. The Countrywoman magazine’s first ever opportunity to upstage Hello!’

‘Then why aren’t you doing it, at least you understand what’s required?’

‘It has to be your voice, the one the readers are familiar with, I can polish it later.’

‘You know my voice, why not the other way around?’

‘Well, sometimes I’m not sure I do, I mean, a lot of the time you’re reacting to me, throwing back my expressions and attitudes, the uppity servant as you’ve expressed it in the past... I know! You said it was the best day, well what we need is your emotional response to the unfolding events. They’re your photos, what did you feel, in the decisive moment?’

Five minutes later. ‘Don’t we have somewhere we ought to be?’

‘Only when you’ve finished. We’ll drop by the gallery and buy Tuffy out, of his stock of cheapo picture frames.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, we have a goodly collection of souvenir editions of The Beacon now, I think we should display them, show off your accomplishments.’

‘You really do take after your Aunt Elisabeth, only whilst she was showing off the rest of her family and hiding your notoriety, you want the whole world to know!’

‘Actually, they’ll have to be somewhere fairly discrete otherwise the newsprint will fade.’

‘How about the loo?’

‘Too damp.’

‘We could display nice prints of the pictures that have found their way into The Beacon. There, done! On your screen any second.’

‘Okay, I see it, I’ll save it for later, lets get some fresh, sea air.’

‘I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life; told I was letting the side down. They even had the gall to question my patriotism. They said now was not the time to criticise Buffy on account of him spearheading the international response to the threat to freedom in eastern Europe. Mackintosh was no help, said most of my evidence was inadmissible since the premises were hired out to others at the time.’

‘How’s your mother?’

‘Alright, I suppose. She’s got me going through father’s things with a fine toothcomb, as it happens.’

‘I always admired her sense of humour.’

‘Mother? What can you mean?’

‘Understated.’

‘Anyway, all his diaries seem to be written in some kind of code! Can’t make head nor tail of them.’ Then, looking at what we were holding; ‘You really could do better with frames you know.’

‘Oh, they’re just for newspaper cuttings, Charlie’s growing fame and fortune, don’t you know.’

‘Tony! How are you?’ Said the Lady Vic, rising from her subterranean office and billowing forth. ‘There’s something I want to show you next door, you’ll keep Charlotte company won’t you darling?’

‘Of course.’

‘Actually, I don’t have anything to show you.’ She said when we were alone. ‘I just wanted a word in confidence.’

‘Carry-on.’

‘This business about mother-in-law’s goods and chattels, what’s that all about? Has the potential to put old friends at loggerheads seems to me.’

‘Well, I’ve not actually spoken to her on the subject. But she has confessed in the past to not really understanding her late husband’s business affairs. She knows Tuffy never took an interest, but I did of course. He was, in the absence of my father, a bit of a role model, a mentor if you will.’

‘So, I understand.’

‘He did rather well in his time. She wants to do right by him, needs someone she knows who cares, to go through everything and make sure nothing useful or valuable is well, lost. It’s not that Tuffy doesn’t care, just that he can be a bit careless, at times.’

‘You really don’t need to be so diplomatic with me, darling. We do go back a long way. For example, Tuffy really doesn’t need to be so coy about his affection for Charlotte, anyone who can calm him down gets my vote.’

‘Quite, well it may be that at the end of the day I just come away with half a dozen of his father’s first editions, but it would be tragic if we all missed out on assets hidden away amongst his papers.’

‘Thank you. I’m sure we can keep him straight. Let’s go back.’ When we re-emerged, Tuffy could be seen helping Charlie carry the frames to the car. ‘He’s genuinely happy you know, being my general factotum.’

‘I believe it, he knows he’s useful. A rare thing in his life.’

‘Well, if you’re having The Beacon on display, I insist on having copies of my Countrywoman articles, they have nice illustrations as well as the woodcut of my masthead.’

‘Done. And location?’

‘Put them, in date order, starting on the far side of the hall, then they can creep up the stairs.’

‘Okay.’ Then the doorbell rang, it happened I was closest for once.

It was Melisa; ‘Can we talk?’

‘Of course, come on through.’

‘Mummy is being a pain, again. She wants me to stay at school and go into their sixth form. I was thinking of the college. You’re the only one who can bring her to heal. Congratulations by the way Charlotte, the whole town is talking about your coup with the royals. Mummy says the council are hopping mad, might bring them to their senses.’

‘Take a seat, let me ruminate a moment.’

‘Tea on the patio? Ten minutes?’ Suggested Charlie.

‘Excellent. Now then. Ah, I’ve got it. By the way, you should be looking towards your father when it comes to such matters, he understands the academic better.’

‘Daddy is in Boston, presenting his final report to his American controllers.’

‘Really! Now then, the key point is that the only really legitimate excuse for favouring the college at the end of the day is it’s size, it must be the one place offering the subjects, you need. Perhaps even the subjects insisted upon by your chosen universities - whether you end up going is another matter entirely of course. See what I’m saying?’

‘God! That’ll mean working through the whole damn prospectus and cross referencing to who knows what.’

‘It’s two years of your life! And if you can possibly bear it, it’s the subject you really want to do, plus English and Maths ‘A’ level.’

‘Boring.’

‘You’ll get the benefit. It’s more than likely that by the time you reach the age of forty, your life will be dominated by running the Gruber Foundation, or whatever your father decides to turn himself into in his declining years.’

‘God, don’t you just hate it when Tony is right all the time, Charlotte?’ Said Melisa.

‘Don’t answer that, Charlie.’ Interceded Kenneth as we were all enjoying tea, el fresco. ‘Tony’s aunt, my dear friend, who used to own this place, allowed herself to get far too worked-up about him.’

‘One extra thing to remember Mel, the real deadline is not until the end of the summer, the first week of term in fact. You don’t actually need to have your preferred solution in place until then. You did say Boston? Not Washington and the Pentagon?’

‘Yes. Home next week.’

‘Tony and Melisa’s father are old rivals, Ken.’ Said Charlie.

‘But friendly, always on the same side at the end of the day.’

‘My other pain is this compulsory week-long end of term, work experience, mentoring nonsense. If I don’t come up with something, the school will dump me somewhere ghastly.’

‘Do I take it from your comments earlier, that you approve of the night shelter?’

‘My god! Tony, that’s brilliant! You couldn’t fix it for me, could you Charlotte?’

78: Return of the bookworms

‘What time will Kenneth need to be let in to the Villa?’ I groaned over Boxing Day breakfast at Checkley Manor.

‘I said we would return by noon.’

‘Okay, and your solution to the catering?’

‘It’s all been chilling in the boot of the car since early Christmas Eve. I attempted to absolve myself of all responsibility by going to the posh supermarket and trying to adopt the mind-set of your late Aunt Elisabeth, sir. All charged to the housekeeping card I’m afraid.’

‘Your forgiven.’

‘Take advice from one who has knocked around the world a bit, no good ever comes from staying up until all hours.’ So pronounced Kenneth, when he saw the condition, we were both in.

‘Yes, I don’t mean to pry, but where in the world have you knocked about?’

‘Got as far as Singapore once.’

‘Fascinating.’

‘So, where do we start?’

‘You and I collect two of the old dining chairs from Charlotte’s lair, then we leg it to the top floor, to collect the other four.’

It was as we were coming downstairs that Kenneth paused to admire the garden; ‘You know, apart from going to the bathroom, I was never aloud above stairs during your aunt’s reign, never really had the chance to stand and stare.’

‘I say, that was a bit fierce. Still, you must have lingered surely?’

‘Oh, no. That would never do. Rules were made to be obeyed; however ridiculous they may seem.’

‘Come along in, l must apologise in advance for the seating arrangements.’ I was playing the doorman, Charlie was hiding in the kitchen, whilst Kenneth put the final touches to the reception room. I repeated my mantra of abject inadequacy four times in all. However, upon entering the venue, the distinguished portrait engendered almost universal, positive acclaim. When everyone had settled, I said; ‘So Kenneth, the floor is yours.’

‘Thank you, Anthony. And thank you for allowing me to host, productive though the garden is, we all need something for the long winter evenings. Anthony has agreed to sit-in, I know my book choice is one of his favourites too. Wonderful to see you all, despite the inevitable changes to this room, I do believe Elisabeth’s spirit is to be found throughout the house and garden. Regarding our woes of the last couple of years, I just want to say, friendships must be kept up. Now then, my choice. John Buchan’s, The Thirty-nine Steps, is perhaps our first real thriller, the first British spy novel as we understand them, rather than a novel with spies, if you see what I mean. And a different sort of writing from the procedural crime novel. Written over a century ago and quite un-controversial until the nineteen seventies. Deeply unfashionable now though, for reasons I don’t fully comprehend, it has been a favourite all my life. I’ll say no more for the moment, but take some of your reactions.’

‘I was surprised,’ said the lady who used to work at the library; ‘I’ve seen the movies, the book was nothing like any of them!’

‘Four film versions, and not one of them made a serious attempt to follow the plot.’ I chipped in.

‘There you go, I knew you’d prove useful to have around Anthony.’

‘I read the book as a child,’ said another, ‘I never realised how modern it is, all about psychology and hiding in plain sight. Rather than deal with that, the moviemakers go for the “master of disguise” thing.’

‘They don’t confront the problems of the hunter and the hunted either, just lay on more stunts.’ Said a third.

‘How did you first come upon the book Anthony? You’re the youngest here!’

‘Er, wet lunchtimes at school, spent in the library. I consumed all five of the books in the series in the end. I rather took them all at face value. I saw the films of the first book and was greatly disappointed. I soon learnt I wasn’t meant to like the books. I also learnt to be on the lookout for terms like “abridged” and “unabridged”. Over the years I confess to becoming rather angry at accusations of anti-Semitism, of critics saying the male friendship was really homosexuality, that the books must be bad or racist because they were pro-empire. But to me, he caught my imagination with his realism, strange as that might seem, no one wrote better about being outside, on one’s own in a landscape. The narrator, stroke hero, if you will, is great at observation of the physical world and then greatly shocked to discover that the ability to hide in a physical landscape is so undermined by the invention of aircraft. He’s also very aware of how you can convince others by playing a part, of truly acting a role. But then suddenly all that is undermined as well, when he realises his own blind spots. The things he takes for granted. The enemy is succeeding, not by disguise, but by fitting-in with the social landscape, by playing the ordinary Englishmen.’

I was just wondering how long I should go on for, when the door suddenly flew open, there was a rattle of china, and Sparkwell appeared, appropriately uniformed, propelling the aunt’s old tea trolley before her; ‘Your comestibles, ladies and gentlemen.’

‘Oh, I say! You have done us proud Charlie!’ Exclaimed Kenneth.

‘Cucumber sandwiches and ham sandwiches, followed by Black Forest gateaux and English trifle with custard and whipped cream. Whose first for tea?’

‘I think I’m going to die of nostalgia.’ I gasped.

Proceedings, having ground to a halt for a good twenty minutes, got underway again when Kenneth turned and declared; ‘The accusation of anti-Semitism was something of a red herring, I’m sure you’d agree Anthony?’

‘Oh, absolutely. Only really sustainable if you don’t get beyond the first half dozen pages. As you’ll all now, know, an American character, who gets killed a couple of pages later, tells a story alleging the involvement of Jewish financiers in a conspiracy, the narrator is sceptical at the time, later the story is revealed to be complete nonsense. But is was a realistic view to give to a character at that time, the particular conspiracy theory existed in this country, and you could find anti-Jewish feeling throughout Europe and North America. So too, people’s real understanding of male friendship, companionship in arms in wartime. It’s been well said, soldiers don’t fight for their country or their generals, but to protect the men around them.’

‘A better accusation would be to say he was anti-homosexual, but then so were most straight people at the time. Do we think he was racist too?’

‘There is a kind of assumed superiority, Africans are routinely called negro, occasionally the other “n-word” is used by someone, it’s rather taken for granted that the empire is a good thing. All of which is an accurate reflection of society at the time.’

‘But what about real life attitudes to the Germans? And what of spies?’ Someone said.  

‘Of course, the novel,’ asserted Kenneth, ‘written in nineteen fourteen after the outbreak of war, and published the following year, has a context; MI6 was only created in nineteen hundred and nine, and the Official Secrets Act was greatly strengthened in nineteen eleven. Anti-German feeling, stoked by the popular press, had only come to the fore, when people realised the size of their navy, and that Britannia might be threatened at sea. But spy mania was rife, yet throughout the war only a handful of German spies were identified, something else Buchan got right.’

‘What a mine of information you are Kenneth.’ I responded.

How long the back and forth might have continued, who knows? But at this point Charlie reappeared and began clearing away tea. She whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear; ‘Hurrah, for Harry, England and St. George!’ From then on, the conversation, as it always did, drifted towards gossip and the state of the world today.

After they were all gone, Charlotte asked; ‘What do we do now?’

‘Clear up. Get back to the proper business of the day.’

‘Which is?’

‘Discovering the true nature of the taste buds of the dining committee, of course!’

End of season six.

67: The tea party

‘Welcome to our humble abode, one and all.’ Daphne and her daughters, Melisa and Belinda, turned to look at me with apparent wide-eyed surprise as I entered the reception room on what was turning out to be one of the last sunny summer afternoons. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, have I interrupted someone’s joke before the punchline?’ This was followed by tittering all round.

‘You know Charlotte I do believe you’re correct, there is a distinct family resemblance, now you come to mention it.’

‘Oh, lord! I must confess it hadn’t occurred to me that there might be a downside to putting her on such prominent display. Do sit down all of you, I trust you found us without difficulty?’

‘You forget Tony, I’ve been here before, almost exactly thirty years ago to the day.’

‘Well, I’ll be damned! Yes of course.’

‘I remember the picture too, unavoidable if one needed to use the loo!’

‘It was still there when Charlie first saw it.’

‘Scared the life out of me!’

‘It scared everybody!’ Replied Daphne.

‘When exactly was this Mummy?’ Asked Melisa.

‘End of our second year wasn’t it, Tony?’

‘Yes, I was stopping here for a few days before taking you for a long weekend at Checkley Manor. I remember picking you up at the railway station.’

‘Did he have a glamourous car then too?’

‘We thought so at the time, but looking back it was rather a cramped bone-shaker, not easy to get in and out of.’

‘An old MG Midget, if you care to look it up. Painted duck-egg blue, which is really a pale green, the colour they used to put on the underside of fighter aircraft.’

‘This room has changed, it used to be quite cluttered, now it looks much more formal.’

This was followed by a moment or two of silence, broken only by Melisa saying; ‘So why did the two of you break up; no one ever explains?’

‘Isn’t it obvious, I wasn’t good enough for her. Would you care for a guided tour Daphne, perhaps it would jog the memory even further?’

‘I thought you’d never ask.’

‘Would you care to lead the way, Charlie?’

‘Oh, no! I always learn so much I never knew, when you lead a tour!’

‘Very well. Now across the way, we have Charlotte’s lair, where the world comes to be restored...’

We ended, at the bottom of the garden. ‘This is what looks truly familiar, which of course can’t be literally true, obviously you’ve been making quite an effort at restoration.’

‘Well, thank you.’

‘I’ll make a start on tea. I’ll leave you to put out the tables Tony.’ So said Charlie, drifting away.

‘You’ve done marvellously well Tony, are you happy?’

‘Never better.’

‘It all rather makes one discontent for somewhere grander, though Barmy would never hear of it.’

‘She always gives Daddy the last word! Positively feudal.’ Said Melisa.

‘Strange choice of words for one so young.’

‘She’s recently discovered Wodehouse.’

‘Oh! Excellent. I always think of Wodehouse as a response to Sherlock Holmes, you might care to have the two on the go at the same time.’

‘Really! I’ve only ever seen him on the telly.’

‘Well, you are in for a treat.’

‘Now then Melisa.’ I said as we settled into our medicinal herbal tea. ‘Since we are sat here on my property - and it is truly in my name by the way, Charlie here preferring to remain of “no fixed abode” - I feel it beholden upon me, to give you a full and frank explanation as to how and why your father acquired the nickname, Barmy!

‘Oh, Tony!’ Interrupted Daphne.

‘No, no. The truth will out. Your father, as I’m sure you’ve worked out for yourself, is usually the smartest person in the room. This became apparent to all and sundry one day in Maths class, when he was just a few years younger than you are today. The teacher would speak aloud a calculation he wanted us boys to do, at the same time as chalking it on the blackboard. He would invariably say something like, “for full marks be sure to show your working-out”. Now, we would then write out the sum, stare at it for a while, then make an attempt with pencil and paper following the method we’d had drummed into us. Your father on the other hand would stare out of the window throughout. However, he always heard the question, and after a moment simply wrote down the correct answer, and after a further moment’s thought, would draw a circle around the number. Now this annoyed the teacher no end, when challenged, your father said he had no idea how he’d worked it out. The teacher always suspected some form of cheating, we on the other hand knew your father was just like that about all sorts of stuff. So, we just accepted it. One of us, I forget who, said something like, “oh he’s just barmy sir” and it stuck. The name is, what literary types would call a “term of endearment”. But of course, to use anyone’s nickname properly, you really must both like them, and be liked by them.’

‘How did he ever pass any exams?’ Asked Melisa.

‘He said he had to force himself to look up one of the proscribed methods beforehand and consciously remember it, he said exams were the most tedious hours of his whole school career.’

‘I can never understand why schooldays mean so much to the boys.’ Reflected Charlotte.

‘I’m afraid I can,’ replied Daphne, ‘it’s something about the quality and organisation of private education. Those who aren’t able to achieve the camaraderie get sent to Beaconsfield. I’m sorry, Tony mentioned it once.’

‘No problem.’

‘You’re very accepting and understanding about everything Charlotte, not sure I’d be so generous in your shoes.’

‘Well, I met one or two thrown-out of your dump too.’

‘Oh, touché.

‘We haven’t had the benefit have we Bel.’

‘No Mel.’

‘Well, children always rebel against their parent’s choices.’ Replied Daphne.

‘What’s projection Tony?’ Asked Melisa.

‘Oh, good god! Where do you pick up such things?’ Her mother interceded.

‘Well, it’s a psychological phenomenon, first mentioned by Sigmund Freud, but labelled by his daughter Anna, as the principal defence mechanism. Now let me see. You feel a certain emotion say, which you experience as uncomfortable or unacceptable so you play a kind of trick on yourself by ascribing it to others, it makes you feel better, by deciding it has come from somewhere else.’

‘Oh, I see.’

‘Couple of problems with it though. If you look hard enough, you’ll find every one does it to some degree. Secondly, because everyone does it, you realise it is really a social aspect of the species which kind of gets passed around, and not really the product of individuals at all. Worth ruminating about a bit though, can be a useful idea at times. But, projection is the mechanism or process, it has all sorts of varieties of expression, like rationalisation for example, which of course is exactly what I’ve just been doing.’

‘Well, its been awfully nice having a look around, still we should make a move before the rain returns. Barmy’s back next week, I’m sure he’d enjoy a poke about.’

‘Yes, before you go, just let me slip upstairs, there’s a book I’m sure Melisa would enjoy.’

‘So, what great tome of wisdom did you give Melisa?’

‘Just my pocket edition of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.’

‘I see. Odd child, is Daphne happy about you egging Melisa on?’

‘She will be. Mel is exceedingly bright. Bored and frustrated as a result. Much like her father was at her age. I have Barmy’s permission to interfere provided I can carry Daphne with me.’

‘And how do you propose to proceed?’

‘Well, if she takes to The Adventures, I’ll start her on Konnikova’s Mastermind - how to think like Sherlock Holmes.’

66: Repairs and renovations

‘Mr. Mackintosh is with-out, sir.’

‘Without what?’

‘He is proceeding along the tradesman’s path.’

‘Oh, I see. Show him into the reception room, and lay on morning coffee if you would. I want to gauge the reaction of someone who knew my late aunt, to the newly hung visage!’

‘Very good, sir.’

When I entered the reception room, I found Cat sat half-facing the fireplace with his back to the view, experiencing the full impact of the infamous portrait which now occupied pride of place on the back wall. I took the seat opposite him.

‘I say, that’s rather fierce, having the old relative over your shoulder like that.’

‘You think so?’

‘I must say the artist did catch the default disapproval rather well. Have you had it cleaned?’

‘No, it’s just the effect of full sunlight. Anyway, I trust you’re here to give me an update on all matters of mutual interest.’

‘The garden is looking most impressive.’

‘Er, yes. We’re just recovering from two weeks of intensive treatment from the team that usually attends upon all woodwork projects at Checkley Manor.’

‘The new back gate works a treat, lockable again I notice. I say what happened to the bower.’

‘Ah, well, Murchison, our gardener, took advice to drastically prune it, more or less start again, with the warning that it, was almost certainly the only thing holding up the old frame. Such proved to be the case.’

‘It smells a bit odd.’

‘The new frame has been treated with something organic. You may also have noticed the rebuilt shed and the new cold frames?’

‘The gleaming paint was a bit of a give away. Traditional green, with white trim, very Victorian.’

‘Well, now.’

‘Well, what?’

‘I’m waiting.’

‘Ah…’ At which point we were interrupted by Charlie bringing in the coffee. ‘Well, it’s a job to know where to start sometimes.’

‘How’s the apartment?’

‘Fine, fine.’

‘Keeping in with “she who must be obeyed”?’

‘Absolutely. I must say that Jim is an interesting character, had a fascinating conversation with him about locks the other day.’

‘Really.’

Charlie seemed to have decided her presence might be required and had quietly pulled up one of her straight-backed chairs.

‘And your man Brinkley, he’s an odd fellow, still, thanks for all the tenancy stuff, being so generous with the rent and all that.’ And after another pause. ‘I say, I wandered by Jack’s garage the other week, thought it about time I became a bit more respectable regarding transport, he’s got an old Triumph that might suit…’

‘You are amongst friends Cat, you can spit it out, without fear of offence. Perhaps we should talk about the Park?’

‘Ah, now then. Barmy did diagnostics on the flight simulator before leaving again for the Navy. Apparently, what happen was that two of the pins sheered, which is what’s meant to happen under stress, therefore nothing important is bent out of shape. Only problem is, we have to wait upon him acquiring a new set personally, on the quiet, we can’t order them officially without giving away the ID of the machine and its current location, it you see what I mean?’

‘Indeed.’

‘The landscape architects and that chap from the council have been nosing around again. Apparently, there’s no problem about enhancing the perimeter and making it more secure, but when it comes to the public right of way, we’re expected to do better about signposts, the proposed diversion to avoid the threat of stray golf balls however, has to go before some sort of meeting.’

‘Well that all sounds okay. Dare I mention water?’

‘Good news and bad there, I’m afraid old man.’

‘Go on.’

‘I’ve been assiduous with my monitoring, it’s rather as you feared, setting aside the summit, as a one-off event, then the overall water level has held up. But not much margin for error. So, any idea of watering the golf course, or developing the stable block as private residences or indeed building a swimming pool will have to be knocked on the head. You might get away with a drinking fountain and a small aquatherapy pool though.’

‘Subject normal then.’

‘More or less.’

‘More or less?’

‘It being the silly season and all that, all the politicos are at home and hanging around the club, letting off steam, Frimley Coates, Rory Flotterton and Prudence, and there’s talk of Buffy and Carrie holidaying in the area!’

‘Ah, well, nice to be forewarned.’

‘I’m in the money again.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘Two cheques, one is from The Beacon for the Crimean gold pictures, it should be made out to you really.’

‘No, no. I have no income other than from the Trust. It’ll do much more good boosting your coffers. What’s the other one?

‘A cheque for my latest article for The Countrywoman.’

‘Ah, excellent.’

‘You don’t seem surprised; she’s never paid me before.’

‘Well, you remember during our summer visit I spent sometime in deep conversation with Julia about the magazine, well the upshot was I persuaded her to start keeping real accounts and paying everyone properly for services rendered. I managed to get the message across, that until she did have real accounts, they’d never know how much the business was actually losing - but more importantly still, know the effect that recent changes have already made, and what would be needed to push them into real profit!’

‘What a charmer you are.’

‘Well not really, I merely gave her an assurance that the Trust would guarantee their overdraft for the time being.’

‘So, what is the real situation?’

‘Hard to say yet, but things are moving in the right direction.’

‘I can make another trip to see Archie then, find out what you’re all really up to!’

Autumn rain, as is the English habit in August, was falling on Kenneth as he defiantly laboured in the garden. Definitely a day for tea around the kitchen table, rather than the patio. Then I had an idea. ‘Charlie!’

‘Sir.’

‘Serve tea for Kenneth in the reception room today, if you please.’

‘I have already prepared the room.’

‘Good lord!’

‘I anticipated you’d be unable to resist the temptation, sir.’

‘You did, did you? You haven’t by any chance found out the truth in his assertion that the Aunt never paid him? His refusal to accept remuneration bothers me slightly.’

‘He continues to maintain, that it has always been a privilege, simply being here.’

‘Yes. He’s told me more than once his pension is adequate to meet his needs.’

‘A while ago, on our way to the garden centre, I picked him up at his home, it’s a modest flat but in rather a grand area with a grand view.’

‘Is it indeed. He remains, something of a man of mystery.’

‘Oh, my word, you have done her proud. You know, she was far too modest to have hung it there herself.’

‘Really?’

‘Indeed, it may be presumptuous of me to say so, but the two of you only saw the one side of her.’

‘You must feel free to enlighten us at any time.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I must say I still feel a little bad that we’re not paying you.’

‘Ah, but look how much you’ve invested in the garden in the short time you’ve been here. You encourage me to even greater efforts. There is, but perhaps I shouldn’t say...’

‘Oh, do feel free to speak.’

‘Well, as you might imagine its not been easy to maintain the Book Club of late, what with the pandemic and Elisabeth being such a powerful mainstay. We had the advantage of all being jabbed fairly early but even so we’ve only managed three scratch meetings thus far, we’re not really the kind of group to go Zoom.’

‘You have a proposal to make?’

‘Well, seeing her there, so resplendent in youth, emboldens me to ask whether you would allow me to continue hosting the club here, once in a way, perhaps especially on Boxing Day. With a little assistance from Sparkwell I’m sure we wouldn’t be inconveniencing you in any way.’

‘Kenneth, you have a way of putting things, that makes any refusal sound like bad form.’

‘Can I take that as a, yes?’

64: The great bank heist (part one)

‘An invitation, sir.’ So said Charlie shoving the silver salver under my chin.

‘How do you know?’

‘I got an identical envelope.’

‘So, you’re standing there, waiting for me to open it, when you already know what’s inside.’

‘I wouldn’t want to spoil your enjoyment.’

‘I see. Oh look, who’d have thought, an invitation to attend upon the day that County Estates open their new branch.

‘Should be a laugh.’

‘Absolutely. We shall combine it with a visit to Bernard, I’ve got all of father’s Trust related documents sorted and ready to pass over. And, with your cooperation, we could have some fun viz-a-viz, the basement.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘I’ll explain later. Meanwhile you might add these invitations to the growing collection above the fireplace in the reception room.’

‘I notice Mrs Hayward’s portrait remains unhung, with her face turned to the wall, sir.’

‘There are some things it’s better she doesn’t see.’

Arriving at the old bank, we paused to survey the properties on offer in the window display. Most, as one would expect, were for desirable rural homes plus a few farms. One stood out, shouted-out, its exceptionalism. ‘Melbury Buildings!’ Exclaimed Charlotte; ‘All I did was mention it in passing at the first online Owl meeting. You wouldn’t think a place like this would “soil their hands” with it.’

‘Ah, well that’s part of the deal; that business should trickle down from the top of the building to the bottom, then creep along the street to the new bank.’

‘Who was Melbury anyway?’

‘You’ve never heard tell of “One-coat” Melbury?’

‘Sartorially challenged, sir?’

‘Well, no doubt he was, on many occasions. But no, the sobriquet came from him having started-out as a jobbing builder. New residents would move in and discover his one concession to interior design was a single coat of whitewash.’

‘Whitewash?’

‘An early soluble paint, the emulsion that didn’t stick. You must have found yourself pressed-up against a few old barn walls in your time, only to discover later you were covered in white power.’

‘What an imagination you have. But he must have made it big in the end?’

‘One of the first to call himself a developer, became a councillor, chair of the Bay Council planning committee.’

‘Named the building after himself then?’

‘His vanity soon caught up with him. Took to cutting corners in a big way, went bankrupt. Then it emerged, he’d offered and taken backhanders, did time for it.’

‘Blimey.’

‘The gossip was that he liked to check-in to various B&Bs and Guest Houses all along the coast road, sign his name simply, Melbury, hoping to be taken for a Lord by gullible proprietors.’

‘How do you know all this?’

‘Well, I overheard odd things as a child, but he does appear in father’s office day books quite a bit, not the gossip as such, but the old man was clearly keeping an eye on this particular development years before the Trust actually acquired it.’

‘But if this Melbury had cut corners...’

‘Nerves of steel father, hung-on through the whole bankruptcy thing, the discovery building standards hadn’t been met. Arguments over obligations to tenants, government covering the cost of bringing it up to standard. The legal obligation to put it on the market, waiting through the lack of interest.’

‘So, in the end he gets it at his price.’

‘Precisely.’

‘I’m Thayer.’ Said the man who approached us as we entered the cut-above property emporium, speaking with a distinctly local accent, from north of the Moor if I had to guess.

‘Pleased to meet you. I say, pardon me for being so forward and all that, but I thought your lot all buggered off to Essex in the seventeenth century?’

‘We did, but we weren’t all convinced by the puritanism, neither did we want to build a new England, so we came home. I was told you was local, but didn’t sound it.’

‘Ah, well, the old school. Anyway, let me introduce to my PA, Charlotte Sparkwell. Do excuse the cardboard box, more work for Merriweather.’

‘Welcome to County Estates, Ms Sparkwell. Much more than a PA, if the press is to be believed.’

‘Greatly exaggerated, sir.’

Then we were interrupted; ‘Tony! Ms Sparkwell.’

‘Charlie has a present for you Bernard.’

‘Good Lord!’

‘The gap in the Trust archive has been closed, and is indeed intriguing.’

‘Excellent, Lawrence will be exited.’

‘They are the original documents, I’ve scanned those I’ll want to look at again, I think we need to make this a bit formal, demand a receipt and all that.’

‘My goodness, I’ll ring upstairs, we can creep up the back staircase, once you’ve had a good look around.’

‘Talking of which, what’s the current situation with the basement?’

‘I’ve no idea. Haven’t been down there since the reinforcements for the lift shaft were done. Dusty and a lot of rubble I should imagine.’

‘Are the doors still locked?’

‘Doors? Plural? Tony, you’ve had access to this place a lot longer than Lawrence or I!’

‘Yes, but I don’t hold any keys.’

‘Ah. Point taken. What’s the sudden interest in our nether regions?’

‘It’s in the box, if you can read between the lines. A search for any and all keys please.’

‘Very well, this may be altogether too much for Lawrence, he may need to take one of his power naps.’

To cut a long story short, I managed to cause a good hour’s disquiet on the two floors above whilst we enjoyed snacks, nibbles and a glass of something, all the time interrogating Thayer about the top-end property market throughout the county. Bernard looked quite flushed when he finally returned. ‘This is your receipt, this is the key for the basement that’s kept at reception for whenever the lift engineer turns up, and that, is the ever-expanding collection of unidentifiable-s!’

‘Excellent, shall we proceed?’

‘Can anyone come along?’ Asked Thayer.

‘The more the merrier.’ I replied.

The lighting was better than I remembered, updated when the lift was seen to no doubt. I pointed out to my companions, the scars on the walls and floor. ‘Once upon a time there was a cage, with a locked gate, with the strongboxes and safe inside. Now, that should be it.’ I kicked aside various collapsed old packaging and debris.

‘Should be what?’ Asked Bernard.

‘The original safe of the old bank.’

‘Doesn’t look anything like a safe.’

‘Top loaded, like an old washing machine, there you go, two keyholes.’

‘Good lord! Well, we sure as hell haven’t got keys here for anything like that!’

‘You were lying.’

‘Well...’

‘You spent the whole time watching the rest of us, you knew the layout, the fact it was used as a safe room. You’ve already got the keys.’

‘It was question of flushing Bernard out onto open ground. I needed to know what he already knew. He, will wait for Brinkley to go through the documents with his accountant’s eye for misplaced details. Eventually the two of them will realise there is a story, and that some of the documents are missing, but of course they can’t demand them. As for the keys, it’s not a question of getting the right ones, but whether they will turn the locks which haven’t moved for at least sixty, possibly a hundred years!’

‘Well?’

‘Well, what?’

‘What do you expect to find inside?’

‘I don’t expect anything. Now, time for an unannounced visit to Cat Mackintosh.’

‘Don’t tell me, he has safecracker on his CV along with everything else.’

‘Not quite, but he will know about cleaning, lubrication, rust removal etc. I’m also expecting to get his situation report on the state of the Park, post Summit.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘I asked him to do a sweep, for any bugs left behind by the conference dwellers.’

‘Foreign spies, disguised as diplomats?’

'Oh no, I’m much more concerned about our own side.’

50: An act of will

‘What are you expecting to happen?’

‘I don’t know. As I said, I’ve no idea what her intentions were.’

‘What did she have to leave?’

‘Well, the Villa and its contents. Uncle Thomas owned the house, bought it when they married, did it up, paid off the mortgage. It’s only been in later years that she’s drawn on the Trust. Although I assume, she had an allowance when young. It seems everything is coming to an end. If I’d had a cousin, or two, things might have been very different.’

We rose in the lift to the top floor, reception seemed abandoned. ‘I’ll wait here whilst whatever happens, happens.’

‘Thanks babe.’

After a minute or two Brinkley appeared, masked like the two of us. ‘I’ve been asked here to represent the Trust. Bernard’s been very proper about things, not breathed a word about Mrs Hayward’s estate.’

‘What did you make of the funeral?’

‘I can’t every recall one like it. Thank you for the music Anthony, most consoling.’

Then Bernard came out of his office. ‘Morning Ms Sparkwell. I shan’t keep you long Tony, Lawrence. I propose just to read the Will - it’s not long - take any immediate questions, otherwise I see no reason not to do the rest by email or video conference.’

He was right, it was short and to the point, I suppose I should have expected that. ‘Okay then,’ I said as Bernard did that trick of folding and tying a legal document without actually looking at it. ‘Charlie and I will do a systematic search of the Villa in the next few days and we’ll deliver anything legal, financial, insurance like...’

‘Jewellery.’

‘Oh yes, of course.’

‘One other thing Tony, your Aunt did mention on the occasion she signed the Will, that amongst her possessions are all your father’s papers. Now they will be yours to do with as you see fit, but in truth neither Lawrence nor I have ever had the opportunity to review them. There is, historically speaking, a bit of a gap in the Trust archive.’

‘You intrigue me strangely.’

‘Quite. We are ourselves intrigued. Also, it is possible some of her documents may be quite explicit about the death of your parents.’

‘Yes, I always knew, if I made a fuss, I could find out more. Anyway, I’ll certainly undertake to ask your advice before consigning anything Trust related to the bonfire!’

‘So, onward and upward.’

Charlie and I walked in silence through a local park. ‘Let’s sit here, I’ll explain. Aunt has left the house to the Trust to do with it what it will. Her possessions she’s left to me. But there is an attachment, non-binding you understand, asking the executor, Bernard that is, to allow Murchison to carry on tending the garden for as long as he wishes. And that’s it.’

‘How strange. Is it strange?’

‘I guess if one knew the nature of their relationship, it wouldn’t be strange. Attempting to deduce it from the request, could be fraught with mishap, capital mistake to theorise from too little data…’

‘Okay, enough of the Sherlock.’

‘Perhaps I should be calling him Kenneth from now on.’

‘So, what now?’

‘Well, if you’ve a mind to, you’re welcome to join me over the next few days doing a proper search of the Villa.’

‘With what purpose in mind?’

‘At the moment, just looking for stuff the executor needs sight of; financial and legal records, anything to do with assets and liabilities, so one must be on the lookout for unpaid bills too. Don’t want the utilities to suddenly fail. Bernard can do the actual informing of people. Do you know anything about jewellery?’

‘Do I look like I do?’

‘No, we’ll just have to collect any and all we can find, give it to Bernard so he can arrange valuing. Problem is, both he and I know there is some which is old and valuable, and is already listed as assets of the Trust.’

‘How come?’

‘I’m guessing, but items handed down through the generations, that at the time must have been worth more than, say, ten grand in today’s money?’

‘And neither of you can tell one from t’other?’

‘Well, there are descriptions somewhere and presumably on insurance documents too, but all in the name of the Trust so, his problem. And, apparently, Aunt confirmed to Bernard that she still had all my father’s papers, stuff I’ve never seen. I could have asked, not sure why I didn’t.’

‘Mad, completely crazy. Fifty years old.’

‘Makes no difference, as you’ll discover. In my head, my memory of my parents is from a time when I didn’t know anything about the adult world. Let’s get to the car, I’m beginning to feel cold.’

‘I’ve not heard anything from Cat for a while, he wasn’t at the livestream, in fact, yes, he’s not actually logged-in to the new website yet, in any capacity. Of course, we’ve not met since that day at the Park when the lockdown was announced.’

‘Whereabouts does he live?’

‘All over the place, no fixed abode.’

‘I never picked up on that!’

‘You mean, one nomad recognising another?’

‘Yes.’

‘Although, I think, these days he goes home a lot, his parents are quite elderly.’

‘Somewhere grand, no doubt.’

‘Well, they’re the only people I’ve met with a moat!’

‘Blimey, a castle.’

‘No, no. Seventeenth century brick and timber jobbie, with legendary Civil War connections, changed hands several times between Royalists and Parliamentarians. Full of damp basements and places of concealment. Semi-fortified, would be the correct terminology I suppose. The moat is a rectangular thingy, with a nice decorated drawbridge - any modern pole-vaulter worth his salt could get across it. Cat never did of course, lost a couple of his nine lives in the attempt. They’re the injuries he’s most reticent about. What are you staring like that for?’

‘It’s all coming out now, there’s a deep strain of madness running through the whole damned lot of you.’

‘I say! Good old British eccentricity if you please.’

‘Wait a second, the water goes right up to the wall, right? What’s the point...’

‘Ah, but the moat, strictly speaking, is the trench, with sloping sides. It has to have otherwise it would undermine the foundations of the building, it’s only in modern times with an abundant, year-long supply of water, that you have this illusion of this great water barrier.’

‘Er...’

‘I’ll text him, enquire after the health of his folks.’

A while later. ‘Ah ha, a reply, “sorry to have been out of touch”, “been isolating with Ma and Pa, they quite fit”, “had a bit of a mishap, fixing the...” Oh, good lord!’

‘What?’

‘Er, oh, right, “mishap, fixing the weather vane on top of the bell tower.” “was abseiling down when foot went through one of the decorated windows.”

‘Is he badly hurt?’

‘Oh, no. “Been spending my time with the glass people at the cathedral”.

‘Which cathedral?’

‘He means Lincoln. The house is a good sixty road miles away, but Lincoln was once the largest diocese in country, he gave me a tour years ago, quite fun being on the roof. Rather my favourite gothic building.’

‘I know it. My father really is crazy religious - along with his group of Christian lawyers, he dragged me everywhere.’

‘Oh, really.’

‘Cat must have been defying the pandemic rules all over the place!’

‘How does one fix a stained-glass window anyway?’

‘Well don’t look at me. I’ve just spent countless days staring at them!’

49: Obsequies for an aunt

The double doors of the larger chapel were thrown open, the opening number of my playlist of music clearly audible. The funeral director had marshalled all those who had insisted, come what may, on being there, into a socially distanced line either side of the cortege. I walked alone. Thankfully it became obvious who I should invite to join me inside. The doors remained open.

As we left the chapel, I mumbled through my mask: ‘Mr Murchison, my apologies, I always assumed I’d be running around trying to organise a much grander affair. There was a notice but, I’ve not even attempted to contact many, they’d just have had to be turned away.’

‘I was very attached to your aunt, such a remarkable woman in many ways. She put up such a front to the world. I flatter myself I was able to breakdown her defences; I shall always remember our afternoons on the patio.’

‘I, er, I’m sure you were a great support to her.’

‘You must introduce me properly to your girl Sparkwell sometime, I’m sure we have much to discuss, matters of mutual interest.’

‘That wasn’t a funeral, that was a guard of honour.’

‘Yes. Yes, you're right. Bizarre, but strangely appropriate.’

‘Did you love her?’

‘Love, hate, who can tell? We were tied for life, she was always there in the background, lurking.’

‘You’ll miss her.’

‘Yes, but all said and done I prefer you as my moral compass.’

‘She was always giving me instruction in your wellbeing.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘She took it for granted I’d comply and stick around, for the foreseeable - as you might say.’

‘Just one thing, promise me you’ll grow more like me and not more like her!’

The following day we made a second visit to the Villa. ‘I want to walk you through everywhere. Rummage a bit. Fact is, I’ve had an email from Bernard Merriweather saying I should turn-up next week for a reading of the Will. I don’t know what’s in it, I don’t even know who the executor is. It’s quite possible I didn’t know auntie as well as I thought. Murchison made a couple of cryptic comments yesterday which I didn’t quite follow. This might be the last time we have free unfettered access, legally speaking.’

‘I hope she leaves you the house, on condition you live here and hang her portrait at the end of the corridor, just there, so every time you...’

‘Okay, sorry for laughing at you.’

‘You want sex?’

‘What!’

‘You said it might be the last time…’

‘I’ll pass on that one, I’ll gamble on there being, another time.’

‘When was the house built?’

‘I would guess, eighteen sixties or seventies, I was wrong to call it Edwardian, I think it must have been earlier, built to accommodate the ever-growing middle classes, the clerical class and the growing number of small business owners pushing the products of industrialisation. So, servants would come in by day, perhaps a cook and a maid. Their domain would’ve been the kitchen and the pantry.’

‘Did you actually stay here at all?’

‘Oh yes, when not at school, fifty-fifty split between here and Checkley. Quite a lonely place at times, only one of the four bedrooms occupied full-time, as it were. The garden was the centre of activity, veg garden beyond the bower, pantry door always open, tea on the lawn.’

‘All this furniture is old, was it handed down?’

‘Yes, sort of. Uncle Thomas had the property modernised in the sixties, but kept and renovated what remained of all the original fixtures and fittings, all the Victorian versions of fitted cupboards etc. Then, it was furnished with bits pinched from all the Trust properties Auntie had grown up knowing.’

‘Pinched?’

‘Well, you know how dominating she could be. I think she must have marched-in on quite a few sitting tenants and removed items they thought were theirs, for the use of, as long as the rent was paid!’

‘You are quite like her really.’

‘I beg your pardon! Would you care to explain that last remark?’

‘Well, grafting quite hard and doing what it takes - to hang on to the past. Like, continuity, traditional values.’

‘Oh, okay, that’s all right then.’

‘She even accepted you putting it about a bit, in a, “that’s what blokes do”, kind of a way. Just thought it had gone on too long.’

‘Where did that come from? Just for the record, Charlie, I’ve been a serial monogamist, I’ve never been unfaithful.’

‘This character looks a bit like you, who is he?’

‘That’s father. Look in the background, that’s the apartments as a building site.’

‘Oh, yes…’

Having persuaded my fellow investors in the Park development company and the key committee members of the club, that now was an ideal moment to switch our marketing strategy from protecting a private hideaway, to advertising ourselves as a commercial concern - albeit a very exclusive one - I proceeded to do a one-man virtual re-launch. Armed only with the Park and the club mailing lists, I signposted everyone to Twitter, Facebook and YouTube accounts. From there they could get to the website and if members, to their own portal. Forty-eight hours later I posted on Twitter and Facebook a forthcoming live-streamed event!

‘Wow!’

‘Wow indeed.’ It gives one a ridiculous sense of power operating from one’s own media suite, set-up as if presiding from the platform of the Park ballroom to a packed audience of virtual attendees.

‘What do I do?’

‘Stand off camera, sign-in with your tablet now. We go live in five minutes.’

‘You’ve put me in the front row, I don’t want to be in the front row. I should be off to one side, surveying all, covering your back.’

‘Explore touchscreen from that page.’

‘Oh my God, I’m half way to the ceiling now.’

‘Okay, so you have privileged administrator access to today’s event, everyone else can only change their seat - just the perspective really - within the seating area. You, can go where you like. But you’ll only be seen by anyone if you walk into shot here on Camera One.’

Inevitably it was but a matter of moments before she switched to a fixed grip and by exploiting tilt, was dancing around the room. ‘Going live, five, four...’ I warned her.

The event was, by necessity, really just a modest student induction-like session, but to get there at all - signing-in and loading portal - involved them all in a twenty second compulsory viewing of a walk into the virtual club. Fin had managed to catch, and edit in, Charlie in uniform, doing one of her “step this way, sir” type silent gestures.

All went according to plan, though rather boringly, until the Q & A. Instinctively I punched in Barmy first, who’s avatar I’d registered in my periphery. A safe place to begin I reasoned, can’t go wrong with him, after all he’s far more accomplished at this game than I am... Within a few seconds I realised I was about to be totally upstaged. As he asked his long serious question, somehow his camera slowly zoomed-out revealing more and more grey, then blue sky, then a faded in roaring clatter sound as the dark menacing shape of a Royal Marine attack helicopter appeared to hover, insect-like over his right shoulder.

The only other incident of note, came at the very end when I felt duty bound to allow Tuffy a question. ‘Where’s Charlotte?’

Charlie reacted as if talking to Julia or Uncle, standing behind me and leaning over; ‘Hi everybody,’ she said, waving at the camera. But of course, she wasn’t in uniform, she was in her yoga kit, with a top that owed more to the fashion designer’s crayon than the practical practitioner, the real illusion was suddenly shattered by a virtual, exaggerated cleavage!

48: A bubble in the country

‘A jolly decent chap.’

‘Who?’

‘The assistant coroner I’ve just been speaking to. When I asked him specific questions, he gave straight answers, and when I didn’t ask, he stuck to giving me the minimum necessary details.’

‘So, who else have you managed to talk to?’

‘Births, deaths, and marriages, auntie’s vicarage and the only funeral director I know.’

‘And the answer is?’

‘Still not sure, a few more complications. Yes, auntie always did want to be buried alongside my uncle Thomas but that’s not going to happen, the funeral director suggested scattering her ashes at his graveside. I’m to email details ahead of time to the registry office to minimise contact when actually there. Right, time to check-out the Villa and see if I can confirm my memory of some of those details. I have the spare keys, I’ll drive.’

‘I’m afraid I’m going to immediately disrespect her memory by parking out the front because we have no choice but to use the front door!’

‘Do you know where to look for stuff?’

‘Well, I know where she did her letters, I’m hoping everything will be at arm’s reach. She didn’t drive and in recent years didn’t travel - an original copy of the birth certificate is of course what they’d be delighted to see. I would too, come to that, given their system is designed around them, connecting automatically to her marriage certificate and the whole family tree - that’s according to what I’ve read about research in Uncle’s account of his family. Compatible with census data and the War Graves Commission...’

‘Enough. Come on, time to move.’

‘Take a walk around, I’m sure there are bits of the house you haven’t seen yet.’

‘Okay.’

I settled myself down at the Aunt’s fold-down desk, part of a larger cabinet in her living room. Thankfully it wasn’t that old, otherwise I’d have been looking for hidden cachets! Presumably it was close, but not obvious.

‘Oh, really, this is too easy’, I spoke aloud a few moments later, as my hand came to rest on an envelope taped to the bottom of the shelf, accessed via the upper most draw below. ‘And, one green marriage certificate too, both in a traditional legal envelope. Bravo.’

I was awoken from a bit of a trance by a sudden exclamation from the floor above. ‘Oh my God. Tony!’ I moved as swiftly as I could. When I saw what had caused such alarm, I had to laugh.

‘It’s not funny, it’s spooky!’

‘You need the landing light on to fully appreciate it. There you go.’

‘Well, that’s better, just. Who painted it?’

‘Quite a distinguished RA I was always told.’

‘I’d have refused to pay the bill!’

‘All in the eye of the beholder, she and Uncle Thomas loved it, been there as long as I can remember, shown off to all comers.’

‘How old was she?’

‘Twenty-five-ish, I think.’

‘She didn’t change much did she!’

‘As a child I thought the eyes followed me around the room.’

A few days later we headed into the countryside. As we entered Checkley, as usual by the back door, laden with our modest baggage, we were expecting to see only the empty cavernous hallway with the familiar stone tiles. Instead, we were met by the sight of a voluminous pile of delivery boxes and our hosts standing rather formally to greet us. Julia took a step forward; ‘Tony, my darling, what can I say.’ We hugged awhile. ‘Damn it, she’s left me to cope with you alone. What am I to do with him Charlie?’

‘Fear not, madam. I’ll see there’s no backsliding.’

‘Ha! What did I tell you my dear? “Charlotte will see us right”. Now then young man, what is the meaning of all this?’ So said Uncle pointing at the accumulated deliveries.

‘My gift to you, giving you hands-on control of the Park, and your family history activities. Whilst Julia, can spend as much time on The Countrywoman as she likes.’

‘And you think you can set it all up for us, demonstrate it to us without causing mass disruption and headaches all round.’

‘I know I can.’

‘Is he shooting his mouth off again Charlotte?’

‘He’s put my treatment room online, plus got the new Park development website up and running already, and he’s negotiating with the club staff and committee members for a portal within the same site. He’s making offers people can’t resist all over the place.’

‘But can we trust him?’

‘Well, he’s been teaching me from the off, that it’s better to assume you can’t trust anyone.’

‘Okay, okay. Now, may I have permission to raid your cellar, for the benefit of all of us?’

‘Of course, Tony,’ said Julia, ‘I’ll come with you, you’ll need help carrying what we need!’

‘So, what do you make of all this modelling?’

‘Oh, I’m inclined to stick with real history. The last time, almost exactly a century ago, conflict in Europe was followed by a pandemic followed by the roaring twenties and prosperity all round.'

‘You’ve always behaved as if you were living the jazz age all over again!’

‘Oh, thank you very much - one tries to maintain a certain style, certain standards.’

‘Do you think our Prime Minister is thinking of the history books?’

‘Buffy, let me tell you, has always wanted to be a legend in his own lunchtime, but yes, he has an eye to history too.’

‘Is he the balls-up, or is it his officials?’

‘Oh, I think he must have realised he’d been stitched-up in the first five minutes.’

‘Really?’

‘Big data, being what it is, the voting patterns from the Brexit vote and the general election, plus records of trade union membership and affiliation mean, it’s a statistical certainty that almost everyone Buffy has to rely on is an opposition-voting remoaner! Plus, the added nightmare of the medical profession - doctors who didn’t become surgeons, or GP’s, or even psychiatrists, but went in for health education, preventive health. And ably assisted by university epidemiologists. Four out five university lecturers and researchers in the social sciences, health sciences, arts and literature - not to mention the educationalists themselves - are openly, of the Left. And it makes no difference even if these people think they are being strict with themselves about traditional civil service ethics of impartiality. Think about it, every single official has from day one of their working lives been working with EU directives handed down from above. And yet, we know that over the last ten years voters have been slowly but surely been moving to the Right. The entire elite is being anti-democratic, simply by carrying on doing what they normally do. Buffy, and his band of brothers, his happy few, probably don’t even have the relevant facts placed before them with which to balls it up!’

‘And this is the man Tony calls his arch enemy! Since school, apparently. More wine anyone?’

A while later. ‘If I might just call this meeting to order.’ Said Julia. ‘Just what precisely is in those boxes in the hall?’

‘Right then. You know how you originally had your “his and hers” desks set-up facing each other in the library...’

‘They still are.’

‘Quite. But back in the day, you sat opposite each other doing your letters and general administrating etc. All the while staring lovingly into each other’s, what’s its...’

‘What a soppy couple you make us sound.’

‘Well, you each now have matching, large 16:9 ratio monitors, but supported just a few centimetres off the desk top, so you should still be able to make eye contact over the top. Now the point is, they are naturally suited to having two adjoining, full-sized pages of a magazine or an A4 sized report, or book even - open at the same time. Editing, Cattle Rustlers and Courtiers perhaps, checking proofs of next month’s edition of The Countrywoman on the same system as the printers will be using. Am I making sense?’

‘Go on.’

‘In addition, you can log-in to the new websites of your respective organisations, participate as members of the club. Zoom Charlotte and I - or anybody else, in full Technicolor as you say. Add items to the agenda of the next meeting of the whatever. Plus, everything you normally do online. I should just say, I’ve tried to anticipate, so put-up various personal descriptors of you, profile pictures etc. But of course, all of that you can change, as owners there is no level of the sites you cannot access, assess and upon which - assert your wishes. Comprehend?’

‘Yes. I think so.’

‘Finally, complementary “his and hers” tablets and mobiles which I’ll fully synchronise to the PCs, but leave in their boxes. It’s only the PCs you’ll have to use.’

‘Must have cost you a pretty penny?’

‘Ah! Yes. You won’t be bothered by having to pay for any systems, subscriptions, accidental damage, cock-ups - on account of the fact, that the whole lot, is, strictly speaking, the property of the Trust.’