13: Charlie's country pursuits

‘Go on, you know you want to.’

‘But won’t we be in trouble before we’ve even arrived?’

‘Not once they see me run around with the rake immediately afterwards. Now, everything fully manual, centre of the drive, start your manoeuvre level with the front door, immediately after stopping, straight out the drive and around the back as usual.’

‘Holy shit!’

She did it very well, just a slight hesitation before exiting the drive. ‘Some of it hit the windows, I’m sure,’ she exclaimed.

‘Don’t panic, now I’ll get the rake, you do the bags and if you’re quick you might be able to get to the window at the top of the main staircase and take a picture of your handiwork before it disappears. Go!’

It was Julia who appeared at the front entrance moments after I’d begun re-sculpturing the gravel, adopting my most Zen-like manner. ‘School’s out for summer, I take it?’

‘I couldn’t stop her.’

‘Bollocks! You know what my husband just said, after not batting an eyelid; “That boy’s getting above himself”.’ I touched my forelock. ‘Charlotte! Come down at once.’ The echo from the stairwell carried a remarkable distance.

‘They’re expecting you in the library, sir. Miss Charlotte is there already, she’s been forgiven, but they’ve convening some kind of kangaroo court for you.’

‘Thank you Gregson, I know the form, bit before your time but this used to be a regular occurrence.’

‘I don’t doubt it, sir.’

‘What is the actual damage?’

‘Hard to say, the glass along the front has numerous chips and not a few minor cracks, difficult to tell what was done when. But I expect you already knew that.’

‘What ho, one and all.’

‘You have some explaining to do young man.’ Uncle was standing at the fireplace, warming himself against a non-existent fire. ‘The price of our forgiveness is that you give a full and frank account to your beloved aunt, and tireless carer one might add in days of yore, as to how Mrs Tufnell has come to believe the sun shines out of your sorry arse!’

‘I bumped into her the other day, she couldn’t stop talking about how you’d been supporting Tuffy, researching treatments, making sure it was all covered by his health plan, asking her about Alicia Dolby and her clinic, reminiscing about the old days when I used to shepherd you and Tuffy back and forth, visiting Tuffy now he was back in his flat. And to cap it all how awful it must be for poor Alicia to have to resign from that Royal College job and cut back at the clinic due to ill health.’

‘Well, I had to chummy up to Tuffy’s mother the day before his transfer to make sure I’d got my facts right, gossip being what it is.’

‘Ha! Always wondered where the “thorough”, in thorough going bastard came from.’ Uncle’s retort was almost too much for Charlotte, she looked like she wanted to wet herself.

‘But Tony dear, he was off his Section, back home with his mother with a nurse therapist coming in every day in less than twenty-four hours. Now I know many people have thought for years she’s been providing dodgy treatments, but it is a private clinic, they’re allowed, buyer beware!’

‘Tuffy, had to be off the Section to get out, but not Informal, he had to be on a Community Treatment Order so the provider, had to provide a recognised treatment - a CBT qualified nurse in his case - so in turn the insurer had to pay.’

‘Okay, but I’m still not sure I get it.’

‘The electronic paper trail for the NHS, private providers and insurers is pretty much synchronised and locked down in the semi-private system we have now. The only way to make real money is when someone is in a clinic and you charge them cash for treatments that aren’t covered. So that can be anything, from getting promising new treatments fast, to vulnerable patients and families being ripped-off for years on end.’

‘So the system can be played,’ Uncle asserted. ‘You still haven’t explained precisely how you fixed it for Tuffy.’

‘Do I have to?’

‘Yes!’

‘Mrs Tufnell can walk into the Dolby Clinic any time she likes, to visit her poor son and discuss his care with her old friend and distant relative Alicia, if she feels duty bound to tell her son there might be a conflict of interest, questions of medical confidentiality and perhaps at the first sign of any paperwork he should make his old and trusted friend his Carer - after all hasn’t that friend already promised to get him out of there within twenty-four hours. Tuffy may be an idiot, but he’s not...’

‘And?’

‘So then I turn up, stick by Tuffy’s side like a limpet, saying only that Tuffy can’t pay and it all has to go on his Plan. Meanwhile his mother is automatically tracking down the boss and confiding all. After that, the staff who are actually looking after Tuffy rapidly arrive at the desired outcome.’

‘But, what about forcing her out of the Royal College?’

‘Oh, I know nothing about that. Although according to the staff some anonymous creep left a print, of a screenshot from some TED style video of her introducing the latest genetics and neuroscience, on her desk. On the back was some message about did this mean she was now going to drop her own research and therapies given that they were based on self-reported questionnaires, handed out by her personally and completed in her presence at the end of sessions, to less than twenty participants with no follow-up and no control group.’

‘I’ll make the tea.’

‘No, no Charlotte dear, you’re our guest. I’ll do that. Tell Tony about your penance.’

‘I’ll tell Tony about the verdict on poor Charlotte! You can sit down now by the way. She should’ve put her foot down, I mean not let herself be swayed by you. She’s to be confined to the woods for the duration, there to commune with nature and find spiritual enlightenment, and learn how to do a bit of coppicing. That reminds me, what do you know about charcoal burners?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘That’s high quality wood coming out of there, we have enough of the big stuff for the wood burning stoves, but the coppiced stuff would be ideal. Well?’

‘I’m not sure I’m in a cooperative mood having been dragged over the coals about standing by Tuffy.’

‘So you do know something. You understand the principles of most things, even if it’s others who end up doing the real work.’

‘I think it’s all about how much wood should be removed in total and the pace at which it is done. Traditionally one individual either does the work or supervises the whole wood; the selection of tress for firewood, the amount of coppicing, how much should stay on the ground, how much taken out, being mindful of where new trees are coming, acting as an ongoing presence in the woods to discourage the larger animals, selecting the really fine stuff for fencing and other woodcraft type uses, and what goes into the burner. Actually I think its two burners because you want to be able to start stacking up the next one, before the other one is cold. So yeah, it’s one person per so many acres, and their pace of work and multiple tasks ensures the woodland never gets depleted, or too dark and dense for regeneration and the balance of the flora and fauna.’

‘All that, off the top of your head?’

‘Well I don’t really know, I’m just trying to reason it out. Ask an expert.’

‘There aren’t any, according to Gregson, apart from the half dozen blokes in the country who can still do it - and they have a hard job explaining anything. I have technocrats designating my land ancient and protected, insisting on a management plan involving certificated workers with machines following a schedule, and Greens telling me the answer is to do nothing because it’s nature, well it’s not, it was planted by humans, only it just happened to be hundreds of years ago, I just wish I knew their practice.’

‘I stayed in a yurt once,’ said Charlie filling our glasses. ‘It was in a clearing, the ground around it was scorched, the forest was planted in regular rows but so dense everyone was scared to go in for fear of becoming disorientated, what’s the point if you can’t see the sun and shadows, feel the wind and change in temperature, which side is damp, navigate, know where to kip down so you’re never get too cold.’

‘Bravo Charlotte, I must get you to write something for the magazine. What are we drinking, Tony? It’s excellent, old I should think.’

‘You two don’t know your own cellar. Older than Charlotte.’

‘Bloody hell! My fault for letting you down there I suppose.’

‘North of the river, top of the hill.’

‘Oh, don’t start that!’

‘It was your father’s butler who told me about it, I was about seventeen, he’d just bought it, left it a bit late even then, pricey he thought, but worth it. I’ve been watching the labels drop off for the last twenty years.’

‘So what has pulling that cork cost me?’

‘Who knows, all sensible people have already drunk it.’

Julia cut in; ‘Well, knowing your tastes, the kind of bottle, it’s red, what you just said about dates means, the eighty-two Bordeaux?’

‘So? Famous little town on a little hill…’

‘St. Emilion’, said Charlie.

‘Well, bugger me!’

(That’s it for ‘season one’, this blog will resume when time permits!)

11: When two aunts meet

I’m not much of a one for the ladies myself, and what with life with Charlotte having settled down into a comfortable routine, my mind has been on matters other of late. But, having learnt over the years that just as everything is going along swimmingly, something is sure to come along and give it to you in the neck, the observational antennae are never quite switched to off - they always remain alert to potential pains. Such was the case when having just confirmed with Julia that we would host a teatime get together at the flat that very day, I suddenly felt a nervous shudder, as if the heating had gone off on a winter’s day. A second or two later it occurred to me that we must be perilously close to another visit from Aunt Elisabeth, it would be just my luck to have to referee a clash of the Titans.

‘Charlie! Oh, there you are. Julia will be here at four-ish, when do you imagine Mrs Hayward will next descend?’

‘At four o’clock precisely.’

‘What!’

‘Her usual text came through whilst you were speaking to her ladyship.’

‘Knock it off. Situations like this make me distinctly jumpy.’

‘I’d have thought you’d revel in it.’

‘No, certain plans may be well and truly buggered if the two of them start sparing.’

‘You could brief Julia.’

‘Normally yes, but I’m thinking of Uncle and me at the moment.’

‘Well cancel one of them.’

‘Either one would smell a rat, in their own way. No, we’ll just have to brazen it out.’

‘Now I know I’ve had to be severe with you in the past about your association with Mr Tufnell, but one would have thought that after all these years, loyalty at least would have led you to rally round. I’m told he’s had a complete nervous collapse. Naturally the family have had to call on Dame Alicia to intercede, but apparently he’s been taken to an Intensive Therapy unit, whatever that is, and is being held under the Mental Health Act, so until he shows some improvement even she cannot transfer him to her own facility.’

‘Thank God for that.’

‘What do you mean, Anthony?’

‘Well, maybe a locked ward is the best place for him, until the divine madness of Waitress Affective Disorder has peaked.’

‘You’re lapsing into gibberish…’

‘Tea, madam? Anthony believes Mrs Hayward that Mr Tufnell’s sexual attraction for waitresses has become habitual, almost compulsive, and when these relationships fail to be consummated, the outcome amounts to something like a full blow psychiatric disorder.’

‘Clearly Anthony your obsession with the Internet has led you to spend far too much time reading ill-informed medical opinion.’

Thankfully at that moment the intercom buzzed, Charlie dutifully attended. ‘It’s me, Julia. Charlotte love, can you let me in?’

‘Certainly, your ladyship.’ Silently I hoped Sparkwell’s formality might be enough to alert her.

‘That was Lady Julia, you didn’t inform me she would be calling.’

‘I was waiting for a lull in the conversation…’

‘Do come in, madam.’

‘Oh! He’s not making you stand on ceremony is he? Tony, show some class!’ Then turning back to Charlie; ‘Now I’ve just been looking around town and I’ve found something I just know you’re going to love, here, open it later when you’re alone.’ It was only then she decided to notice Aunt Elisabeth; ‘Mrs Hayward! What a delightful surprise, we haven’t met for ages, the last time must have been, well, the unfortunate incident at Barnabas Gruber’s wedding. Do you ever hear from him these days Tony?’

‘Well, as a matter of fact, only the other day...’

‘We were discussing the urgent matter of Mr Tufnell when you arrived Lady Julia.’

‘Oh I don’t imagine any of us will be seeing him for a while, especially if his mother allows Alicia Dolby to get her hands on him, shame really, I’ve always thought all he needed was regular sex rather than forever chasing after elusive love. No, I’m here to talk about your summer hols at Checkley, Tony. It’s going to be so much more fun with Charlotte along. Why has she retreated to the kitchen?’

‘Tact, one imagines. Anthony’s life has been a lot more disciplined under her influence. It may not be my place to say it, but over familiarity will only endanger the improvements she is already making.’

‘Well Elisabeth I must concede your generation does come from a more austere tradition. Still, neither of us have been blessed with children, after Tony, it’s the end of the line.’

‘Quite. For decades he’s avoided marriage, time that should have been spent rearing children.’

‘Perhaps it’s not too late.’

‘Enough!’ I interceded. ‘Now, on the matter of the summer, we’re both looking forward to it, but how long will Uncle want us hanging around?’

‘He’s been ruminating on the future a lot lately. He sent a message, would you accompany him to the Park development get together meeting thing next week?’

‘Of course. Now, since you’re both here, and since you say I’m the end of the line, if there are any, how should I say, matters pertaining, as to how you’d like things sorted out, in the inevitable event of your respective demises, you’re going to have to let me know one way or another. If you see what I mean?’

‘Well! What an extraordinary way you have of putting things. I can tell you, that I have, upon the urging of Merriweather at the solicitors, written a Will, all is in order, rest assured.’

‘Yes Tony, there is a lot to work through, and it’s all very complicated, your Uncle doesn’t know what to do for the best. So I’ve told him I’m going to force the issue and write a one line Will leaving what little I have to my name, to you, then it’s up to him.’

‘The title passes to a cousin I believe.’

‘I’ve really no idea how these things work, what concerns my husband Elisabeth is that the estate should go to someone with the financial wherewithal to manage it properly, he feels he’s never been able to quite do that.’

Somehow Charlotte knew it was the moment to return, she brought with her fresh-boiled, to top-up the pot.

‘So, Charlotte how do you fancy spending your time at Checkley? Do you ride?’

‘Well sort of, but not well. I’m more of a woodland person.’

‘Coppicing is never ending of course. Tony’s job is to keep his Uncle entertained, get him doing rather than moping.’

‘Goodness, is that the time, I should really be making a move Anthony.’

‘Before you go Aunt, there’s something I think you’ll want to see, a very short video clip, I found it on YouTube, you’ll recognise a couple of the faces. I’ll play it on the TV, just a sec.’

Three minutes later. ‘Well really! What is the world coming to, and from a solicitor, one would think such blatant backslapping was without any legal probity, “we have no hesitation in recommending their financial expertise”, and Brinkley, he looks so smug. I thought they were quite independent, I had no idea they were in bed together, no better than estate agents. I wonder if I should take my business away from the two of them?’

‘Oh I wouldn’t do that Aunt, I think you’ll find we are their business. By the way Julia, should Uncle be in need of advice, say with regard to trusts and the proper stewardship of land…’

‘You’re a wicked boy, Tony. Do you know Mrs Hayward I think you’re right, Tony does need Charlotte’s firm hand.’

3: Tuffy and the female of the species

‘Morning, sir.’

I opened my eyes only to find Sparkwell staring down at me, hands on hips and entirely naked, a moment later I realised the duvet had been pulled back. ‘Is the building on fire?’

‘No! It’s time to move to phase two of the programme, from now on we will be showering together, I wash you first, then you wash me.’

I followed her to the bathroom. ‘I should take a pee…’

She nudged me toward the cubical. ‘Just let-go, whenever you feel like it.’ It didn’t surprise me to find the shampoo, conditioner, assorted soaps and the flannel, all gone. ‘This is a bar of the simplest vegetable soap, we use it only on the armpits, arse and genitals. Your hair will return to its natural condition within a couple of weeks. No kneeling by the way, only squatting.’

Afterwards, whilst we were towelling each other off, and I was taking instruction on her hair, Charlie brought me up to speed. ‘There was a text from last night, your school chum Mr Tufnell requested an urgent meeting. I replied that today’s consultations would be at Macy’s from 11,00 am.’

‘He probably imagines himself in love again.’

‘Do you have an App for that?’

‘No, but I damn well should have. I’ll think on it. You know I’m sure I’m losing weight.’

‘You are. But it has to be in the right places. The diet won’t work without the right exercise at the right time, with the right intensity and the right body movements. We need to remove the premature ageing. But first I’ll have to loosen you up. We begin basic yoga this afternoon.’

‘Is there a principal to all this Charlie, you know I’m better with concepts than practicalities.’

‘Follow my arse, twenty-four seven.’

‘I always have.’

‘Push me, it’s what puts the smile on my face.’

‘I felt that.’

‘I’ll lay out our clothes for the day, sir.’

‘Tuffy old man, who amongst your regiment of relatives and friends really makes you jump-to?’ I asked as we settled at the corner table.

‘Well, quite a few of them put the fear of God into me.’

‘Yes, I get that, but fear isn’t exactly the best motivator in the long term is it? I mean who’s authority do you really respect, who’s the person you instinctively like the most, the person who, at the end of the day, you would obey because you knew it was the right thing to do?’

‘Gosh, well um, it’s hard to say...’

‘Tuffy! Whose image flashed across your mind as I spoke a moment ago?’

That forced a pause. ‘No, that’s - perverse.’

‘I believe you. Well, go and find five minutes of audio of his or her voice, give it to me, along with your device, then I’ll fix it so you can use it only via voice activation and the virtual assistant.’

‘No way! Anyhow, we’re not here to discuss your latest hacking schemes. Don’t you think Fiona is just the most wonderful girl you’ve ever met?’

‘Hard to say on the basis of a few minutes standing in a queue, with you desperate for her to serve you that ludicrous drink, plus the double chocolate chip muffin thing, and the toasted what’s it - which has already disappeared I notice.’

‘It was an instant click.’

‘Just as it was with all your other five day flings, now too numerous for you to remember.’

‘Passing fancies alas. This is the real thing.’

‘They always are. Tuffy, you have the worst case of Waitress Affective Disorder the world has ever seen.’ Suddenly there was a muffled cough, clearly Sparkwell was now lurking, rather than just skulking in the background.

‘I say old man, that’s not quite what one expects from an old and trusted friend.’

‘I’m surprised your sundry carers haven’t dragged you off to the consulting rooms of the notorious Dame Alicia Dolby. Come to think of it, she’s one of your lot, isn’t she? Twice removed or something.’

‘Who, she?’ murmured Charlie.

‘Our great nation’s leading looney doctor, Chair of the Royal College of Mentalists, and when called upon, Turnkey-in-Chief to the sons of gentlewomen. Besides, you shouldn’t ask, young Sparky, you should search - that’s what your new “top of the range” device is for.’

‘According to Mother, the Dame’s latest thing is the PMCS, the Pre-Marital Compatibility Scale - can you believe it?’

‘Out to undermine the “relationship guidance” market eh! You know, those types get away with it because people only turn-up after the trouble has started, then the therapist strings it out by claiming they can fix all. Well, they’re ripe for the taking, even with only the merest whiff an evidence base.’

‘Apparently if you score less than seventy-five per cent the whole thing’s off, less that fifty and you’re whipped into treatment right away. Of course it all depends on what kind of Plan you’re on.’

‘Look old chap, I don’t mean to be brutal, but you do realise your pretty lass is being nice to all the customers, especially the chaps, that way they spend more, it’s her job! She even uses more or less the same words with every bloke likely to put his hand in his pocket.’

‘But she let me buy her lunch the other day, she was hanging on my every word.’

‘Tuffy, these chain store coffee shops send their staff on training days just to learn how to butter-up the punters, they even have names for this kind of stuff, like “The Script” or “The Conversation”. You know all about this Sparkwell, you’ve done a bit of waitressing in your time.’

‘I really couldn’t say, sir.’ That made me pause, she hadn’t sir-ed me outside the confines of the flat or car before.

As we strolled home along the Prom, Sparkwell turned and confronted me. ‘You were bit strict with me back there.’

‘But, you sort of, like that?’

‘Not in public.’

‘Tuffy counts as public? Yes, of course he does. I’m sorry.’

Then, with just the hint of a chin thrust, she declared; ‘Never apologise, never explain.’

‘Then I’ll take it as read you already knew this Fiona sort, knew her place of work and that she was the object of the affections of the aforementioned?’

‘Naturally. You were a bit hard on him too, glib. I mean he’s the real thing isn’t he, a toff and a bit of an idiot? Whilst you lay it on, to disguise what you’re really up to.’

‘It’s all there for those with eyes to see. And it takes one to know one.’

‘All’s fair in love and war.’

‘First we try, then we trust.’

During our first yoga session, Charlie took me through breathing while standing and moving, the core, the centre - where all movement should begin and end. She did it by placing me behind her and by talking to the wall rather than face to face. ‘All movement changes our perspective, therefore emotions and thoughts change too.’ That’s when it hit me. One of those “the entire world has got it back to front” moments. Afterwards she left her mat where it was, in front of the bookshelves, squatting there for what seemed an age. ‘You’ve been sitting for more than ten minutes’ she said, without looking around.

‘I know, lost in thought. You’re more than welcome to read anything from my library by the way.’

‘I like to focus on the pattern of the colours, the odd titles. There’s no order to them though.’

‘That’s because the order is in the contents. They’re arranged by subject matter, but in one long continuous historical timeline. A lot of it isn’t events though, rather the history of ideas. About ten years ago I realised I couldn’t  get any further with computer tech without learning other stuff...’

‘Dining in tonight are we?’

‘I am, are you?’