136: Podcast

‘Welcome to the podcast everyone. My special guest today is none other than the Queen of the Riviera herself, sometime street urchin, waitress, physical therapist, companion to the homeless and wealthy alike, poster girl for the steam railway, angler, charity trustee and much more. Charlotte Sparkwell, may I call you Charlie?’

‘You usually do, Don.’

‘Welcome to the podcast.’

‘Thanks for inviting me. It’s the first time I’ve done anything like this.’

‘Well, you and I have become friends over many years, think of it as just dropping by for a chat. Now I’m hoping that at some point you’re going to tell our listeners and viewers all about how you came to be hosting two recent local royal spectaculars on the same day, and at more or less the same time!’

‘You played your part Don.’

‘Only a minor role. But the mastermind behind everything, you and I both know, was your significant other.’

‘Who will remain nameless, Don. That’s the deal. Some will know who we’re talking about, others may guess as we go along.’

‘He’s thrust you into the limelight Charlie on a number of occasions, I’ve seen it for myself.’

‘He has indeed, but his heart is in the right place.’

‘It is? Most people feel you’re the one with the heart, whilst he’s something of a manipulative bastard!’

‘Your audience Don, should be told you’re as much a friend of his, as you are of me.’

‘Okay then. But what’s it like becoming such a public figure?’

‘Well, locally that’s not such a new thing, I’ve been recognised on the street and about the town for years.’

‘But you didn’t grow up here. Tell us what happened?’

‘I jumped the next train, and stayed on to the end of the line.’

‘Now, that’s a, not uncommon personal story hereabouts.’

‘That’s right, and there were some kind people, so I stayed.’

‘And we’ll avoid naming those, supporters, shall we say?’

‘Yes. I don’t want to misrepresent myself though, I’d been a street kid for years before I ended up here. And I’d had a bit of a middle-class suburban upbringing, before I felt I had to leave. I got chucked out of several schools, but ended up with enough exams to do a sports degree. Fitness, was my therapy. And so, I wasn’t in that bad-er a shape when I turned up here.’

‘You’re very comfortable in your own skin, if I might put it like that.’

‘Sure, and fitness gave me confidence. I decided when I was quite young that I wasn’t going to be a victim, and set about making that happen.’

‘You’re a survivor.’

‘I hate words like that, meaningless, just another soon to be out of date label, everyone who’s alive is a survivor! Lived experience, what other kind of experience is there?’

‘You’re a traditional, assertive, straight woman, if I might say, and that’s where the respect comes from?’

‘I think so, I love the street, I like being admired, the guys like me, I’m fun. I’m safe.’

‘But so many people just don’t get that, how you can put out, but not be taken advantage of. I mean, hell, I’m a gay guy from the suburbs of Melbourne for Christ’s sake, what do I know?’

‘But you do know.’

‘And in time you settled in as the waitress, famously dressed in traditional yoga pants, down at the cafe on the harbour side.’

‘Yeah, but that was only possible because Captain Bob gave me a cabin on his yacht, in exchange for light duties.’

‘And these light duties, were?’

‘Many people who used to see old Bob hanging around the harbour or beachcombing didn’t realise they were looking at Captain Robert Forsyth RN, former commander of all sorts of naval vessels and hundreds of sailors. And his classic yacht is now leased to the naval college as a training vessel.’

‘Hence, you getting pally with the King the other week.’

‘Sure. But for many years Bob was the one who kept the old homeless shelter afloat, financially.’

‘Right.’

‘And it was where I was first introduced to the Prince and Princess, back along.’

‘Amazing. We’ll be back after the break.’

That she should have agree to appear on the podcast at all was remarkable, but to be the single guest on a long-form edition which might last between two or three hours really was amazing. But they do say TV is over, along with other legacy media, and I’m beginning to believe it. There’s less censorship on the internet, more freedom to say and do as you please, for now. The Don was one of the first to see the potential, getting his paper, in the act of going online, to turn itself into a broadcaster. It meant freedom to do almost whatever you liked, in so far as your guests would tolerate it!

‘So, how did you meet your infamous partner?’

‘He was a regular at the cafe. He would drift in at about ten and order something or other, “for breakfast” he’d say. Even though he dressed casually, everything about him screamed quality. I was fascinated.’

‘And the rest is history.’

‘Oh, no. That went nowhere for ages. But I was only really part-time at the cafe, I was trying to set up as a physical therapist, use the bits of physio, sports massage and sports psychology I’d picked up at college, to make some sort of a living.’

‘Waitressing can be a bit of a dead-end job.’

‘Depends on the clientele, it really does.’

‘So, when did you hook-up?’

‘Er, I was thirty-two then, I’m forty-one now, a bit short of nine years ago he hired me as a therapist. That was the first time I got inside the lair where he was living, it knocked me out, because of the view, classic apartment.’

‘You don’t look forty-one!’

‘But I do Don, this is what forty-one looks like when you’re all skin and muscle, I look like what everyone is meant to look like, what every brain and body is trying to be, were it not for our culture, social learning, habits, diet, whatever.’

‘I think that’s probably the most provocative statement anyone’s ever made on this podcast.’

‘Bleedin’ tragic, innit!’

‘Er, where were we? Yes, I was going to ask about the age difference.’

‘Can I just say, from the start, we were both aware of how unfashionable a seemingly rich, guy with a girlfriend fifteen years younger, had become. But rather than playing it down, we decided to exploit it, have some fun with it.’

‘Play it up.’

‘Sure. It’s like he’s always saying, life isn’t a series of puzzles to be solved, it’s a game. If you walk one step behind or one step in front, the man is called a misogynist.’

‘If you walk side by side that’s thought equitable!’

‘And hog the entire pavement, so fuck everybody up!’

‘But right from the start the two of you went a bit further, not just you in the role of kept woman or housewife, you went about as a sort of old-fashioned valet!’

‘Well, we both hated this thing of the well-to-do having personal assistants, personal trainers, drivers, when really, you’re talking servants. In private it was a fantasy, in public, in the circles he moved in, only too easy to act for real.’

‘But somehow you carried it off so it wasn’t at all demeaning.’

‘I knew from waitressing how at times you could control the room, step up and be a sort of maître d’hôtel.’

‘Yes, some of us have been lucky enough to have seen the tapes of you working the inside of Buffy’s global summit here at the Park.’

‘Yes, but you don’t own the copyright.’

‘Touché! So, moving on, the royal connection, how did that start.’

‘My partner thought we could use a mutual acquaintance who’d been at university with the prince and princess, to get them to appear at the Park’s jubilee celebrations, the friend pointed out that they were serious people, and that they’d be more likely to show interest in the work we were doing at the old homeless shelter.’

‘And the King and the new, old railway?’

‘Well, I’m just the poster girl, hired by the day, off and on. You need to get their representatives on the show. But I do know what you saw with the King’s visit was just phase one, it’s a work in progress.’

‘So, tell us about the fishing...’

133: Any other business

Who was it who said; ‘A committee is an animal with four back legs?’ I was staring out of the window to where the new trench, for the new water pipe, was being dug. Then I remembered, John Le Carre in The Honourable Schoolboy, I think? The fact I had time to cogitate, and remember the quote and ponder its source, is a measure of how distracted, or do I mean dissociated, one becomes whilst chairing the club dining committee these days.

Health had somehow crept onto the agenda, or rather the lack of it. As I let them ramble a little longer, the thought occurred that it may have been the influence of Sparkwell at the Spa and Sports Committee that had caused the subject to somehow jump domains, escaping their ‘safe space’ and invading ours! We were on the final item, a routine review of the menu, but somehow it had morphed into the obesity crisis, the psychological impact of our alleged comfort food, and now, the detrimental effects of food additives.

‘But we must consider our activities in the context of the climate crisis.’ Tuffy lobbed in from left field.

‘Enough!’ I asserted. ‘We’re drifting, gentlemen.’

‘Perhaps we need a new committee?’ Added another.

‘We've got four already! Every extra layer of management makes us less efficient and can only lead to higher fees in the future. Now, can we please move on to any other business.’ They had none, thank goodness. But I did; ‘There is one matter I think we should give thought to, the forthcoming official visit of our new MP, the issue being how much she needs to be, well, managed?’

‘Has anyone met the woman? I hear she’s a bloody Trot, sounds like trouble to me.’

Discretion prevents me naming the individual. I simply mused; ‘Well I’ve been in the same room as her a couple of times, can’t say I gleaned much about her.’ Now I concede, I was ‘perhaps being economical with the truth’, but I did want to keep control, make myself Brenda’s personal guide.

‘Well, I don’t imagine any of us have got even that close, I vote the chair should take on the responsibility, I don’t see it’s any business of ours.’ Thank you Tuffy, I thought to myself, somehow our association still worked, even if only unconsciously.

‘I don’t think there’s any need for us to vote on this, Tony?’ Said someone else.

‘So be it. Meeting closed.’ I glanced at my watch. ‘Oh, good lord, look at the time, Sparkwell is having guests for tea. I must go.’

As I was legging it down the corridor, Cat drew alongside; ‘Your meeting, finally over?’

‘Finally. But I’m late for a Sparkwell tea now!’

‘Oh dear. Still, this will only take a minute.’

‘And?’

‘Tuffy has gone a bit off-piste again, been boasting in the bar, more than once, about Charlie having tattoos, getting chaps to guess how many, and where.’

‘Not the act of a gentleman. There’s only one he could know about, and that from an accidental glance.’

‘I’ll take your word for it, as a gentleman! Clearly, he’s been colouring his narrative.’

‘Leave it with me.’

As I entered our jolly home, via the pantry, a tall young male figure with wayward hair but a reassuring lack of face adornment, sprang to his feet. This was Timothy at close quarters.

‘Pleasure to meet you, sir. I’ve been hearing all about the Arlington Trust.’ Rather formal I thought.

‘Excellent. Apologies for my lateness, delayed by a committee. You’ve had a tour of the garden?’

‘I came in the back way.’

‘How are you Mel, been a while?’

The conversation was a little stilted for five minutes or so, as everyone repeated everything, that had been said before I arrived. Then I pitched in; ‘My thought Tim, was that if you were prepared to take us on, cash in hand of course, then we might also be able to meet all your work placement requirements from across the Trust.’

‘I’ve seen all the websites. You’re also connected to Checkley Manor I understand, a nice house.’

‘Indeed. Well, we seem to be on the same page. I should tell you however that I’m only one of the trustees of the Trust.’

‘Understood.’

Now I stood up, about to leave for a momentary comfort break; ‘Mel! You want to watch yourself, you may never get rid of this chap.’

Upon my return a few minutes later, there was much ribbed laughter. ‘Tony, Mel won’t tell Tim and me what the infamous “unfortunate incident” at her parents wedding was all about.’

‘Don’t tell them!’ Melisa said, looking rather flushed.

I thought, with the boyfriend present, this might be just the moment; ‘I can’t see why not, you were unwell after all, and a small child wasn’t to know.’

‘This is so embarrassing.’

‘Oh! So, it was Mel herself who was the trouble, even then?’ Chided Charlie.

‘Well, it was more the sound really. She was heard, rather than seen by everyone in the church.’

‘Oh, god.’

‘She threw-up in the baptismal font.’

Charlie was driving us to Crawford Park for the Brenda Radnor visit. We were discussing how the situation should be played. Then I realised I hadn’t told her of Tuffy’s latest misdemeanour.

‘I suppose if it was a day I was wearing my shorts, and had to bend a bit, he might have caught a glimpse. As for the others, not a chance.’

‘You never talked about them?’

‘Not to him.’

‘Well, that’s all much as I’d surmised. I leave appropriate retribution, to your good self.’

The visit started with a coffee in the lounge, then I guided Brenda to the spa. ‘Ah! Here’s someone you should meet. Charlotte Sparkwell, chair of the Spa and Sports Committee, and coincidentally my partner in life. Charlie, meet your local MP.’

They shook hands. ‘You look familiar, have we met?’ Brenda asked.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘But? Wait a moment, I’ve seen your face, several times. I know, it was when I was searching The Beacon for local stories before the election, so you and he are...’

‘Ah, but what a tangled web we weave.’

‘Please, do have a complementary, spa special pro-vitamin drink, this one is apricot, but there are others.’ Charlie interceded.

‘Well, I’ve just had a coffee...’

‘Oh, but you really must try one of Charlie’s pick-me-ups. Entirely organic don’t you know. Works wonders after a late evening.’

‘It’s a recipe of my own invention madam. Mixed using our own spring water.’

Having inspected a sample treatment room, the aqua therapy pool and dodged questions about unionisation, I escorted our representative of the old left, out of the mood-altering aromas into the fresh air surrounding the pond.

She made an excellent choice of question; ‘How do you think our government is doing Tony?’

‘Well, I really only concern myself with local issues, but if pressed I’d say they might be on firmer ground if they went back to fighting the class war. Capital and labour may have opposing interests, but they share the same reality.’

‘Intersectional, woke mob, half the country has gone full tin-foiled hat!’

‘I think we understand each other.’

‘Got any more surprises for me?’

‘Well, maybe just one.’

‘And this is the conference centre. Open for hire, at rates commensurate to its surroundings. Of course it’s easy enough to move the chairs, store the screen etcetera. It was originally the ballroom, with sprung floor, still used for musical evenings.’

‘Very grand.’

‘But also with two withdrawing rooms, one serves as a seminar room for “break-out sessions” as required, the other is our media room, often used as a podcast studio. Oh look! The man himself.’

‘What the hell is he doing here?’

‘Good-day all!’ Said a smiling Don with open arms.

‘Had you not realised? Brenda, let me introduce you to the host of one of our nation’s most popular podcasts, The Don Wooley Show. Treat him right, he might let you be a guest!’

98: The Trumpton Interviews (part two)

‘Blimey! Pause it. Pause it and go back.’

‘Hang-on, this is clearly an event, I’ll switch to the tv screen and go back to the beginning, we can then pay proper attention, it is almost the full two hours, see?’

It was the week before Christmas, and the Don Wooley Podcast with the ex-prime minister was snatching the nation’s attention away from traditional media and their reverence for the late Queen. Which of course was fine for The Beacon - we were watching it on their channel having been prompted by verbatim transcripts in the paper - but their rivals and the BBC were floundering.

The aftershock promised to be considerable, grabbing the attention of the millions of us determined to listen, but in our case also watch, in our own time via social media. The podcast format seemed to have come of age, but in an incongruous set-up. There were Buffy and the Don, lounging in grand country house surroundings but talking like, well I imagine a couple of Aussie lager louts would, in some outback bar. The uninhibited atmosphere of the podcast, conducive to intimate confessions. The first of these ‘finished’ programmes surprised from the off, simply by its frankness about government affairs, an openness we British aren’t use to. Within a couple of minutes, the Don was interrupting Buffy’s flow with a query as to whether he was breaking the Official Secrets Act by talking in such a way.

‘Oh, don’t be such a big girl’s blouse Don!’

‘And that as well Buffy, some might say such language is sexist, if not misogynistic?’

‘It’s a joke, made by chaps against other chaps, nothing to do with the girls at all!’

‘To be honest, I’m not sure I understand it, where does it come from?’

‘Part of the great music hall tradition.’

‘But neither of us are old enough to remember!’

‘Misspent youth. I was one of the first generation to have a portable tv in my room at school, and at university come to that. Northern comics, drew a lot on their idols from the variety theatre.’

‘But what does it mean?’

‘Well, it’s the timeless image isn’t it! British working-class women chatting over the yard wall, or in the back lane as they hung out the washing, fussing and flustered, ample bosomed, grown fat on a diet of bread and dripping, shocked by the inconsequential behaviour of their neighbours.’

‘Making a fuss about nothing you mean?’

‘Absolutely. Cross talk and banter, the stuff of tv chat to this day.’

‘Yes. So, to bring it all back, the Official Secrets Act, is nothing?’

‘No, no, no, of course not. But my point is Don, so much of my tenure in Downing Street has been pawed over by the newspapers, parliamentary committees, even the Supreme Court, leaked emails, security footage, much of what we have to say to each other clearly has a precedent and is already in the public domain, or so the girlie-swot lawyers tell me!’

‘And how do you justify that one?’

‘One what?’

‘Girlie-swot.’

‘Oh! You want more definitions and derivations. Well now. You see again, its boys ripping the piss out of the other boys. I blame the teachers. Around about the end of the seventies, early eighties, there became available for the first time, mass stats on what happens to exam results when kids are taught in single sex classes or entire schools. As we all now know, not only do both sexes do better when not distracted, but girls out-performed boys. Right? So, in the years that followed our teachers were forever trying to motivate us to do better by ribbing us about how well the girls did. So, any lad who kept his head down, did everything the teacher asked of him...’

‘Was a girlie-swot.’

‘Precisely.’

‘And educational attainment through hard work is a bad thing?’

‘No, no. Its the going mad about exams. Specialising far too early. Not realising what school is really about.’

‘You mean things like, critical thinking and creativity?’

‘No Don! That may well be what schools, ought, or should be about, what they’re really about is learning what authority is, learning to conform to social norms, living by a timetable, learning how to be a future employee, how to spend your time working for somebody else.’

‘And you approve of that?’

‘Well its alright for most people, probably what they need, but not for the likes of us, aye Don? The measure of a chap, is can he escape all that? Do his own thing, cut his own path through life. But you’ve got to know the rules before you can break them, develop a touch of class, of style. Chaps who are focused on outcomes, don’t mind much how they get there, will do whatever it takes. Be your own man, that’s the thing. Of course, once in a while you get a girlie-swot who does come good, given enough time, boys like our A.A.’

‘A.A?’

‘Oh! Of course, you wouldn’t know, the chap you know as Tony, owner of this place.’

‘Part owner, along with the Earl.’

‘He always has aspired to be part of the landed gentry.’

Charlie grabbed the remote and pressed pause, saying: ‘That’s a good place to leave it for now, we’ve got Bob for tea, and I’ve got prep to do.’

‘Well thanks a lot! Stopping it just as my name is about to be dragged through the mud.’

‘I wonder how the club will react?’

‘Well, I imagine there will be a few stony-faced types who will be wittering about the constitutional implications and suchlike, but most will just find it hilarious!’

‘And how will Rory and Prudence react?’

‘They won’t like it. They’re going to find Buffy even more difficult to defend. Still, we won’t have long to wait, Buffy has been called in as a late substitute for Uncle, as speech-giver at the club Christmas lunch.’

‘Is his lordship unwell, sir.’

‘No, I don’t think so, just losing his taste for drunken revelries.’

As soon as we were sat around the kitchen table, staring at the pot, waiting for it to stew a little, the good Captain started in. Such romantic idealism was surprising in an older person, he’d clearly been captivated by the prospect of making their new prospective house, a home. It wasn’t long before I felt the need to put my foot down.

‘The bottom-line Bob, is the Trust retains the freehold permanently, we like The Grange, will pay for the upkeep of the structure and any interior work that brings it back closer to the original, but all that costs! We shall no longer donate to the charity; we’ll as likely as not be your landlord initially. Charlie will no longer participate as a Trust representative but as a private individual, whatever she donates will come from her own savings. The area for negotiation is the level of rent, followed later by the possible cost of a lease. Remember, the move itself is going to cost you, you also don’t know if the move will bring you more or less donations. There is the question of how much you personally wish to commit, versus the benefit of holding off till after your time when Charlie will have considerable discretion over negotiating a long lease if both sides are still happy.’

The temperature seemed to have been falling as I made my pitch, almost as if a draft had caused the pantry door to slowly open.

‘The answer Robert old boy, is to give the real, current, accounts to Charlie to show to the Trust’s accountant, Lawrence Brinkley of Brinkley Associates.’ The voice came from Kenneth, silhouetted in the doorway, for all the world like the ghost of Duncan.

‘My God! Kenneth Murchison, I thought you were dead!’ Cried the captain.

93: Panic

‘All done, Mr Cleverly.’ I spoke. ‘And I can quite appreciate the bank’s desire to move on, I’ll do what I can to expiate matters.’ Back in Archie’s office I was met by expectant smiles. ‘Well, we mustn’t delay the staff Charlie, onward and upward.’

Back in the street; ‘Well?’

‘Bit of luck that, being able to just breeze in, I quite thought such arrangements were a thing of the past, there was no indication as to how many boxes were still in use, so to speak.’

‘You know damn well what I meant. Are we now the possessors of a wad of escape cash, several false identities and an automatic pistol?’

‘You really are quite romantic when you want to be. No, none of that, just more notebooks and old documents, masses of them, they weigh a ton! So, to the Villa, for as long as it takes for me to do an initial assessment of the two bags.’

‘Archie was really quite nervous.’

‘He shouldn’t be, they have us and we have them. In the fullness of time a local media event, highlighting our discoveries, might solve their problem.’

‘But surely, they could just get the police and some sort of officer of the court and the crooks are busted.’

‘You’re still not getting this. Remember your heuristics. Separate in your mind; empathy, feeling what others feel, from “theory of mind”; the realisation that others think differently from you. The bank, are bricking themselves over what is in the boxes of the honest punters, okay?’

‘But?’

‘Just suppose the bank does decide to end the service and open the boxes, the owners of the contents are anonymous and most probably long dead. The crooked stuff? Ten per cent at most. The vast majority is the property, if they only knew it, of well to do and influential locals - jewels, historic artefacts, documents giving title to, investment certificates of one sort or another. Some of the best of the city was flattened in the war, killing their owners. Before you know it, multiple multi-million-pound lawsuits from people claiming to be the rightful owners of the same stuff!’

‘And you think you can gain kudos by helping them avoid all that by publicising something you don’t actually know anything about yet!’

‘Just thinking ahead.’

‘We need to tell Julia something! It’s getting late.’

‘Er, text; “MT frail but okay, hope to return by tomorrow evening”.’

Charlie was towering over me as I was trying to make sense of our cache of documents by arranging them on the floor of the media room. ‘Done. Now, what have we got?’ She asked.

‘In essence, Mr Tufnell’s name on title deeds for numerous properties, across the entire county it would seem, but what’s odd is these are piddling bits of land. Mainly brown field sites, occasionally built on. I can’t see rhyme nor reason to any of it.’

‘Someone must know.’

‘Sure. But which of his contemporaries would be in the know? And how to get them to talk?’

On our way back to the manor, we couldn’t resist dropping-in at the Park. There was raucous laughter and cheering emanating from the bar. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Buffy’s gone.’

‘Gone where?’

‘Sacked, thrown-out, they’ve deserted him. He’s gone too far. The right-thinking element have told him to walk.’ Said one of Buffy’s long-time critics.

‘I see.’

‘Glass of bubbly old man?’

‘I’ll just stick with the black coffee, if it’s all the same, need to keep a clear head.’

We retreated to the lounge, only to be confronted by Prudence, pacing the ground before the hearth.

‘It’s the end, certain defeat at the next election, money gone, Rory jobless, hopeless, the shame of it, Tony you’ve got to help, I’ll do anything, I’m begging you.’

‘You need to show patience, Prudence.’

‘What?’

‘You’re local, Rory’s local, that’s your appeal. You fight for the seat with all gusto, unapologetic about Buffy, if you lose, you merely stay where you are, campaign for the local party, fight the next election after that, return in triumph, the problem is the money. Rory’s unfit to do anything else, you have to find the cash doing something part-time that will raise enough. Focus on that.’

‘That’s all very well for you to say!’

‘I know, but that is the answer, the only answer.’

‘But how?’

‘Well, you’ve got two years to put your plan B in place, hang around here as much as possible, the money is here. With the individual members. Who likes you, who do you get on with, what do they need that you can supply, get my drift? Oh, and remember, membership here, is a fixed cost in your accounts.’

‘Er?’

I walked towards the garden for some fresh air, Charlie had drifted off somewhere as is her habit. I needed time to think. As I wandered towards the pond, I was surprised to find Don Wooley, newspaper man extraordinaire, seemingly on much the same mission. ‘Wouldn’t have thought you’d be operating from here at a time like this?’

‘I’ve been sneaking into the conference area and using the fibre, it’s still copper wire in the first-floor bedrooms. I don’t think that Fiona likes me!’

‘I see. Okay, well I can get the issue of more fibre throughout the occupied parts of the house further up the “to do list” because the relative cost is falling, Fiona is another matter entirely. Fiona always has to be in the room, so to speak. She is the public face of the Park, she’s the one in front of the camera. She may not have authority in decision making but she does have to be included. Charm her Don, after all she’s an old friend of Charlie’s, Charlie got her in here.’

‘Shit! Er, look I’ve got an idea about your conference centre, let’s go inside and have a look.’

It turned out the Don was concerned about the smaller of the two rooms leading off from the ballroom. ‘So, you don’t like the tables and chairs?’

‘Most of the time it’s being used as a media room now, no point in it looking like a college seminar room when by the simple act of replacing them with a sofa and a couple of chairs from upstairs, you have the grand country house decor along two sides, and your cameras and a perch for the technician come director on the other two sides. Now what does that set-up make you think of?’

‘The posh-ist Breakfast Time or Daytime tv studio ever?’

‘Exactly! Or to be more precise the summer residence, or perhaps winter residence, of The Don Wooley Podcast. Daily rent for at least three months of the year.’

‘I like it.’

‘Not that different from your home set-up really?’

‘Who, told you that?’

‘Oh! No secrets between me and Charlie these days, I know all about her, spread out on the chaise-lounge, whilst you fiddle with your gadgets.’

‘I beg your pardon!’

‘Fear not, she’s one of the special people. Anyway, what do you think Buffy will do now, now he has time on his hands, write his memoirs?’

‘Buffy doesn’t write.’

‘Really? Now that is interesting.’

‘Apart from reading agendas, and scribbling notes for speeches, he is a cultural desert!’

‘What are you two conspiring about?’ Came a voice from the doorway.

‘Charlie!’

‘There’s progress at the stables to be inspected, sir. Before we hit the road.’

‘Well, don’t let me detain you any longer.’

‘I’ll speak to the committee.’

‘What’s he doing?’

‘Distressing a brick!’ Our stone mason’s mate, had just chucked a brick into the portable cement mixer, whilst the man himself was attending to a piece of the decorated stonework which intermittently broke the monotony of the brick work. Only the garaging of the minibus could be said to be complete.

Speaking from atop the portable scaffolding, the boss said; ‘We’ve been taking a few days off from your Magdalen Place properties, while matey rescues bits of wrought iron guttering and down pipe from the back, to make the front entirely genuine again, so the back alas, will be entirely fake.’

‘Which it’s going to look anyway because of the sure-ing-up you’ve had to do?’

‘Well, that’s the way we see it, sir.’

‘No worries! Right then Sparkwell, we can’t hang around here watching other men work, we have places to be and things to do.’

Back at the manor about a week later, Julia sort me out in the grounds; ‘Tony, I’ve just taken a call from Victoria Herring.’

‘Oh, lord.’

‘I’m sorry, Mary’s gone. Passed away whilst still at the house apparently.’

71: The speech

Charlotte stood over my right shoulder, reading her tablet. ‘I don’t get it. None of this makes sense.’

‘Well, you know Rory...’

‘Yes, I get why he’d need a speech written for him.’

‘Not written, spoken, foretold if you like, at a time when he was highly suggestable.’

‘Yes. I get why words like these might be spoken by a right-wing MP. I just don’t see why he should go up against the PM. He’ll just draw attention to himself, I mean if anyone challenges him, he’ll fall apart in five seconds.’

‘Ah, but he’s under pressure to get on, from you know who.’

‘But if the PM prompted you, to get Rory to attack him, Rory won’t be going anywhere.’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’

‘So, what is the plan?’

‘Well Buffy just thinks it’s better PR to be seen to be pressured by others into doing the right thing, than suggesting it himself. Odd I know, something about the parliamentary party asserting itself, feeling it is really in charge, which of course it’s not.’

‘I can’t pretend to get all that, but what’s in it for us?’

‘Favoured status for the Park, a cooperative - if not particularly friendly - Chief Constable. All sorts of things that oil the wheels.’

‘Some people will notice these are not Rory’s words, and some of this is a blatant give away, “I won my seat by taking on the retired commissars of the metropolitan left who litter the English Riviera”. Quite a few people know that’s the sort of thing you’d say when taking the piss! And what of; “For you can only put the Great back into Great Britain, tackle the mountain of debt, and make us a going concern again with high and sustained economic growth. The Prime Minister has already spent all we can afford on the pandemic and stimulus packages for the North, the so-called Red Wall. The rest must come from becoming a low tax, low spend economy again. Yet as traditionalists it is our duty to maintain the military, the police and our security forces. Now the PM may not permit the word austerity to pass his lips, in this he is correct, for shaving budgets here and there for a few years will never be enough. The only way out is to cut absolutely the bloated and unnecessary state apparatus, the mindless bureaucracy which has grown around us all over the last fifty years. But, unlike entrepreneurial led growth, cutting the state is not a bottom-up process, quite the reverse.” The Beacon doesn’t normally reprint political speeches like this.’

‘Quite!’

‘Now this is just plain silly; “Number Ten must lead by example, the very cabinet table of which we are so proud, only comfortably sits eleven or twelve minsters, plus the Prime Minister himself and the Cabinet Secretary, there to record the minutes. With a reduction in ministries, there would be the chance of real cabinet government, again. Such was the situation the last time this country could call itself great. Now, we have a Cabinet Office employing a staggering eight thousand people.” This is the new Victorians thing I suppose?’

‘Absolutely, sounds a bit mad when Rory says it, but seen in cold print...’

‘And what about; “A Colonial Office of a few hundred administered an empire, now the same number hand out aid we can ill afford, for projects where we never discover whether they worked or not.” Is that true?’

‘It’s what the tabloid press believes to be true.’

‘Blimey, “a policy of intervention in the affairs of others is an outrageous foreign policy, hugely expense and merely encourages antipathy towards the West. I say trade, not aid.” There’s more, “the NHS has become a monster out of control, creating endless demand, as the population gets ever unhealthier. How wrong, Bevan and the men from the ministry were, to believe that the real cost of the NHS would fall over time as less people got ill.” Was that true?’

‘Oh, yes!’

‘I’ve had enough of this; we must get back to the garden.’

‘Is that your considered political position or a practical suggestion?’

‘Shut, up.’

‘Hang-on a second, does he get a mention in the editorial?’

‘Oh, yes. “A rare true-blue speech from the unknown MP who is only recorded as having spoken twice in the House of Commons. Perhaps he should assert himself more often for he goes straight to the heart of issues long championed by this paper.” A ringing endorsement then.’

Later that day I took a call; ‘I have the Prime Minister for you.’

‘Carrie!’

‘He’s using me as a bloody secretary now.’

‘You should get out more.’

‘Tell me about it, darling! It’s all right for him, he’s always out and about. Although, I rather think he wishes I could do a Charlotte and transform myself into a valette, when required.’

There was a sudden pause. Then Buffy came on the line. ‘Anthony! Just to say, marvellous job regarding young Rory, just the right tone, makes me sound like a sober minded judge. Ha! We can take it from here.’

‘But what will become of him?’

‘Well, he can’t very well accept a ministerial job now, after saying all he did about making cutbacks, can he? No, Chair of the parliamentary Whitehall watchdog committee should suit.’

The following week, Prudence approached me at the club. ‘Wasn’t he wonderful Tony? And I’ll let you in on a secret, it was all his own words, I had no involvement at all! I didn’t even see the script. What about that. You never believed it possible he could be his own man. As chair of this committee, he can call anyone to account, any minister, even Buffy himself. He is a force to be reckoned with. Now he’s being talked of as a future leader of the party.’

She seemed proud of her man, in a deeply unfashionable way. Feeling that perhaps life was getting just a tad too easy, I headed for the bar in search of a stiff drink.

‘Tony!’

‘Don! You’re spending a lot of time in this next of the woods, for one who’s meant to be a columnist for our leading national paper.’

‘I’ve been sent by my editor. He said; “You’ve got the connections, go be a reporter, find out about this MP who’s making the headlines.” Hoisted by my own petard. Having built Rory up at your request, now I’m being asked to knock him down.’

‘So, we are forced to ask, from whom does your editor take his orders?’

‘Better not to ask. Rather, why is it, that whenever I ask questions in this place the answers always seem to lead back to you! Or rather, you and your sidekick. Yet it also seems I’m in your debt, I hadn’t realised it was your recommendation that got me in here.’

‘We’re more than happy to have you.’

‘Rory is a chump. You contrived to get him elected, seemingly as a favour to his wife. As a consequence, this place, in which you have a financial stake, becomes a hive of political activity following on from the new MP’s support for the nation’s most notorious politician who in short order becomes the next PM. Now, I can’t write all that up, because it’s all too far fetched even for our readers.’

‘But you can’t go home empty handed. What you need is a nice little human-interest story about the life and loves of a chump, perhaps with a few choice anecdotes from an old school chum.’

‘Let me buy you lunch.’

‘I thought you’d never ask.’

70: The minority rule

‘It doesn’t look right somehow, seeing you driving a vacuum cleaner. Besides, you don’t clean nearly enough. What you end up doing once a fortnight, should be done twice a week!’ So opined Charlie with a raised voice.

‘It may sound incredible, but I did survive until nearly fifty, before you came along.’ I shouted back.

‘That’s actually quite scary to think about. You, without an effective restraining influence.’

I turned off the machine. ‘I don’t suppose you have a candidate for the role of cleaning lady, or home help, or whoever you think, we lack.’

‘No, not yet. Which reminds me we need to pencil-in more fishing leave, if I’m to clock-up the full six weeks before next April.’

‘Do you ever think about diversity Tony?’

‘Not often, but I did notice the other day we defiantly had more butterflies in the garden than I remember from last year.’

‘I didn’t mean that, I meant here in the club.’ So said Cat, as we propped up the bar.

‘Oh, you mean different sorts of humankind. No not really. After all, we’re interested in attracting like-minded people, that’s what clubs do. Besides we’re a club within a private house that happens to be a small employer, we don’t have to worry, do we?’

‘No, I was just wondering if anyone was counting?’

‘Well, apparently you have to use self-reporting, so ask people what they self-identify as. Strikes me that helps no one, forever being asked to label your differences, to self-stigmatise, rather than notice what brings people together.’

‘Don’t get many Blacks!’

‘Well of course not, they have a tendency to be poorer and to live in cities, the ones we do get are all Americans, signed-in as guests of members. Still, plenty of Eastern and Orientals eh! Or is that too much of an imperial reference these days? And certainly, a higher percentage than live in the bay area as a whole.’

‘Well, that’s money and education for you.’

‘So, what brought this on?’

‘Well, we were rather twiddling our thumbs at the last membership committee, only took a few minutes to review the list for any urgent, priority cases, there weren’t any. And no one has died or moved on this month. Got to talking about discrimination and all that. It’s all very well having a policy of ‘people like us’ but are we missing out?’

‘But you’re quite good at spotting, when you’re missing out the kind of people we need. I mean take Charlie, hardly your typical candidate.’

‘Yes, but you must have noticed old boy, how she’s changed. She’s more like one of us, than one of us now!’

‘Bravo to that.’

‘And what about religion?’

‘Ah well, we can’t be faulted there, we have representatives of every contradictory faith imaginable. So much so, that the less identified, the better.’

‘It all makes you think, though. Don’t you think?’

‘Cat, the one really important fact about people like us, who feel we see the world clearly, is we’re a tiny minority, hidden away out of sight of the rest of the world. Now does that make us an elite, or an irrelevance?’

‘Life, doesn’t have a plot, does it Tony.’ Said my lunch companion.

‘No Tuffy. Just a beginning, a middle and an end.’

‘I suppose one must consider oneself to be at the end of the middle.’

‘Or the beginning of the end.’

‘I say, that’s rather, glass half-full.’

‘Ah, but by being pessimistic, I’m always being pleasantly surprised.’

‘Do you ever think about love?’

‘You haven’t asked that question in a while! No, I think about sex, from dawn till dusk.’

‘Good lord!’

‘Now don’t get me wrong. Charlie puts it rather well, talks about love, like joy, having to be remade every day. The point is, as a heterosexual male, I have a sexualised orientation to life, a traditional masculinity if you will, towards everything. So, everything is a flirtation, an attempt at seduction, everything has a sexual component although actual sexual intimacy only occurs periodically. Before I settled down with Charlie, I had the reputation of being a bit of a lunchtime Lothario; so be it. You pay close attention to women you like; you create an atmosphere in which they, either verbally or non-verbally can communicate what they want. Then you give them, whatever they want. Which of course can be anything at all, sexual or otherwise.’

‘But where’s the right and wrong?’

‘There is no set menu Tuffy, just everything, everyone, slowly evolving.’

‘Victoria has led me back to the church, you really should seek a spiritual path.’

‘I have no problem finding spiritual experiences, religion can be fitted-in to evolution easily enough, but you can’t fit evolution into religion.’

‘It’s rhubarb crumble with lashings of custard today!’

‘And your Victoria’s religion allows that does it?’

‘Of course.’

‘How enlightened.’

‘Tony! I want you to meet Harry!’ So said the Don.

‘Henry Walpole, Don says you are the club.’ So said a small rotund male.

‘And I say more than that Harry; he is the spa, the conference centre and the Park. And, via the Arlington Trust, one of the most significant landowners in this part of the world.’

‘You flatter me Don.’

‘Only one thing holds him back from total domination - and that’s his better half.’

‘Ah, now that I do understand, my wife has recently retired me to the countryside, hence my desire to find somewhere to hole-up. This is all very pleasant I must say.’

‘Well, once you’ve got your face known, you must apply for membership.’

‘Harry, is not without reputation Tony, he has featured in many a crime story in our pages. As a legal eagle of course.’

‘Defence barrister, man and boy, alas now put out to grass.’

‘Tony here, let me tell you, was responsible for recovering the Crimean gold.’

‘Ah! Therefore, the better half Don mentioned, is in fact the Valette, also a feature of The Beacon?’

‘She gets around our Charlie.’

‘I look forward to making her acquaintance.’

‘She’s known to most as Sparkwell.’ I added.

‘Not by any chance related to a certain god-bothering gentlemen who it’s been my displeasure to encounter around the law courts by any chance?’

‘Daughter.’

‘Then I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. And if she ever needs legal representation, I’m her man.’

‘We’ll bare that in mind.’

‘Does the name Henry Walpole mean anything to you?’

‘I’ve never met him. Father was always moaning about him.’

‘What is he?’

‘Defending barrister, must be pretty ancient now. A thorn in father’s side, forever getting people off. A bit of a rascal.’

‘How so?’

‘Well, using underhand methods, like not taking the police’s word as gospel, but doing his own investigating, turning up new evidence and surprise witnesses.’

‘Sounds like a resourceful chap.’

‘Oh my god! He’s turned up at the club?’

‘The Don had him in tow.’

‘That figures. Had some remarkable successes in scandalous cases. You and Cat had better watch out, he’ll spot your machinations.’

‘Really. He offered his services to you, the second he found out who you were.’

‘My enemy’s enemy is my friend.’

‘Your strategic thinking is coming on by leaps and bounds.’

‘Rory! Long time no see, Charlie mentioned she was scheduled to give you a good pummelling. Come, let us sit by the fire.’

‘You know, the thing about Charlotte is, one always feels so much better about the rest of the world after a treatment. Funny that, almost benevolent.’

‘Well, that’s good, for an MP, what?’

‘Yes, you know if it weren’t for Prudence, I could happily spend my entire career on the backbenches.’

‘Becoming ambitious on your behalf, again, is she?’

‘Yes. Oh Tony! The problem is I’ve no idea how these chaps go about ministerial advancement.’

‘Well, surely they get themselves noticed, make grand speeches championing the issues of the day.’

‘But what are the issues?’

‘Well I would have thought the important one was obvious, the government has spent ten years worth of income, in a little over two years!’

‘Oh, yes, I suppose.’

‘Now then let’s stare into the fire, and see if we can’t foretell your future.’

68: Rivals and restorations

I was lounging away an hour or so at the club one day, when I was approached by the secretary. ‘Anthony, my dear fellow, I wonder, can you tell me, in my capacity as manager of the Park, who or what the Constitution Group are? They’re seeking to book conference facilities via the website, and I haven’t a clue who one might be letting in!’

‘Ah, now, yes indeed. They consist, I think of about thirty in all, some MPs, some policy wonks plus assorted members of the governing party. All Brexiteers, but of a certain inclination, those who have a rather literal interpretation of “taking back control”, they lobby for the dismantling of all that European law accumulated over the last forty-five years or so.’

‘All Leavers, you say?’

‘Yes, but of a particular kind, there’s another group who just call themselves The Free Traders, who as you might imagine are concerned with barriers to trade, like their nineteenth century forebears. No, this lot, well the most extreme elements, would like to see the Supreme Court, taken to court under the Trades Descriptions Act, for flying under false colours. But the more sophisticated feel we should return to having just five Law Lords, properly confined within the Palace of Westminster with just one corridor to work from again! There is a body of opinion that says you can transform the countries fortunes a lot quicker if you simply repeal, on mass. Allow the common law and precedent to assert itself, so the previous law is automatically reinstated.’

‘Good lord, would that work?’

‘I’ve absolutely no idea.’

‘All sounds a bit eccentric.’

‘Of course, others simply call the Constitution Group - the Frimley Coates Supporters Club.’

‘Oh well. That’s all right. I’ll give them the go ahead then.’

‘Barmy’s back, he has the new pins, needs a bit of muscle to help in the Games Room though.’

‘Oh, right. Er, carry-on Sparkwell.’

‘Ah, she’s a game girl that one.’ Said the anonymous member sat next to me at the bar.

A while later I silently put my head around the entrance to the hallway. ‘Just hold her steady, I’m almost there Charlie.’ The two of them had begun to attract a crowd of onlookers, happy to merely watch and admire “men at work” so to speak.

‘Taught me all I know about keeping one’s back in shape.’ Someone quipped.

‘Loosened me up no end - and I’m due to collect my pension next year.’ Said another. I crept away.

A few days later, we were back. ‘Frimley!’

‘Anthony.’

‘I hear you and your cronies will be taking over the conference area for a couple of days next week. Have everything you need?’

‘Oh, I think so. Now you’re offering a dozen bedrooms it makes life easier. I should tip you the wink though, that the PM may put in an appearance. Apparently, Carrie has a cottage somewhere in the area, they’re hoping for a few days away from media intrusion. I merely mention it in case there’s any last-minute need for, well you and your companion’s skills at crowd control, so to speak.’

‘Thanks for letting us know.’

‘It does also occur to me that, my little convocation, might benefit from Wooley’s presence in the back row, as it were.’

‘Really?’

‘Extraordinary influence that rag has over the hearts and minds of the great British public.’

‘Perhaps I should leak your presence.’

‘That would be extraordinarily generous of you. Ready for a top-up?’

A week on and I was thinking it really might be judicious if we were present at the Park for day one of Frimley’s shindig. Not only had Wooley taken the bait, but Carrie had phoned the evening before to say Buffy was getting restless at the cottage and was threatening to seek an alternative sanctuary; ‘Somehow I don’t see the club working for him without your presence darling, you’re one of the few who can rein him in.’

Charlie proved hesitant. ‘So, remind me, where is the pecuniary advantage, in us doing this?’

‘Well, there isn’t one, apart from whatever fees are being collected from Coates’ mob.’

‘So?’

‘Well, it’s just about the general wellbeing of those we know and love.’

‘You mean your rather dubious acquaintances.’

‘Yes, okay, all of that. Just answer me this; wouldn’t you be feeling rather anxious and restless if you were stuck here, knowing that lot had the run of the Park to themselves?’

We planned no specific interventions you understand, beyond showing our faces everywhere and being convivial. We found the Don stoking the fire in the lounge. ‘I doubt you’ll find any interesting stories in here.’ I chided.

‘Tony! Yes, well. Frimley’s crew are still offering introductory congratulations and doing their version of an ice-breaker. I’d forgotten you don’t allow alcohol before twelve.’

‘Coffee Don?’ Asked Charlie.

‘Thank you, my darling.’ He watched her as she trailed off towards the bar. ‘Our readers like her. But it’s my proprietor who’s keen on what the constitutionalists have to say, how one spins that to our followers, god knows!’

‘What do the focus groups and reader’s panels tell you?’

‘Oh, traditionalists to the last man and woman, it’s just, how many people remember life before the EU? Where’s all this wood coming from these days?’

‘Purchased, at the normal rate from the local horticultural centre. The fact that they and the farms that supply them, are all owned by the family Trust, is a pure coincidence.’

‘Yes, of course.’

As Charlie returned and set down the tray, she said in her quiet unassuming way; ‘There would appear, gentlemen, to be a minor disturbance in the grounds...’ The Don was gone before she could elaborate. ‘At this distance, it would appear to be a band of warriors or insurgents, dodging around the golf course and approaching the far side of the lake, sir.’

On reaching the veranda window we were met by the sight of what might have been a platoon of commandos, running slightly stooped, towards the house. A darkly dressed group, around a central figure partially dressed and recognisable only too easily by the shock of hair. I was instantly transported back to school.

‘Who’s the blighter in the rugger shirt and pre-war footer bags? I’m sure I’ve seen him before.’ Said one of the older bar regulars.

‘Oh, Quentin darling, he’s the Prime Minister for goodness’ sake.’ Replied his much younger female companion.

‘Looks more like Roderick Spode, the amateur dictator.’

‘Oh, no, not another grand entrance.’ I mumbled under my breath to no one in particular.

‘You must wait for the “warm down”, it’s become quite a ritual of late.’ I turned to find Carrie at my shoulder, carrying what I assumed was Buffy’s change of clothes. ‘It all began with the protection officers trying to teach him the proper way to end a run, now it’s morphed into his version of a Maori Haka.’

‘Ah, Anthony, there you are, I was hoping for a word.’

‘You do surprise me Prime Minister.’

‘Gosh, still a little out of breath. Now then, now the crises can be presumed to be behind us, we’re anxious to move the agenda forward. The thing is, I’m often not the right person to raise issues. The media, the opposition and some of the great unwashed, seem to like it when I’m seen to be a bit out of touch, taken by surprise and forced to reluctantly concede things.’

‘Can’t say I’d noticed.’

‘Well, you never were much of a politico. Anyway, I was hoping Rory might come up with one of his ideas, make a speech maybe at one of the fringe party conference meetings next month.’

‘Since when has Rory, ever been known to have had an idea?’

‘Well, the last time you gave him one of course.’ Buffy then proceeded to outline his plan, and how I should persuade Rory, with or without the assistance of Prudence, to make a speech which would arouse support in the party and eventual cause the PM, to act. He then realised he was late for his appointment with Frimley’s followers.

‘See you later perhaps,’ I said.

‘No, we must be leaving for Scotland directly after my speech. We’ve been commanded to attend for a convivial long weekend at Balmoral Castle.’

65: The great bank heist (part two)

‘We’re on a schedule and I haven’t even been properly briefed.’

‘Need to know.’ It was early morning and we were sat in the car, covering the entrance to the old bank.

‘Just tell me why this isn’t just, common burglary then?’

‘I am a Trustee, you are a Trustee, we are entering our own property. It just happens to be outside normal business hours.’

‘And Fin?’

‘He’s our contractor, here to do routine maintaince on the security system he installed; testing it, involves disabling it.’

‘And my role.’

‘Observer, here to take pictures of anything of interest which may happen, secure in the knowledge you cannot possibly incriminate yourself. Besides, if we turn up anything interesting, I’ll be the one waking up the Chief Constable, before alerting our friends in the media.’

‘You mean, if there’s a haul, it already belongs to us.’

‘Well, morally, probably not. But we will be seen to do the right thing.’

‘But why all the drama of a dawn swoop?

‘Because the valve lies not in what may be recovered, but the story of how it is recovered. Right, here they come.’

‘Are we set? Everyone know what they’re doing? Gloves, check. Okay, Fin, here are the two keys for the side entrance.’

‘Where did they come from?’ Demanded Charlie.

‘They’re the spares, I palmed them the other day whilst Bernard’s attention was elsewhere.’

‘What!’

‘Well, what with all that card manipulation for the wedding reception, my hands kind of did it for themselves. Cat, these are the keys for the safe.’

‘They look right, according to Mr Chubb’s catalogue, circa eighteen fifty.’ He replied.

‘Oh my god.’ Murmured Charlie.

Cat produced two cans of aerosol, one merely fresh air we were assured, the other the latest refinement of jet engine lubricant. Having blasted out dust and dirty, he held up each key, lightly sprayed them with magic oil and let them drop into the keyholes. ‘This could take a while, the mechanism will have a hole on the other side, when this liquidises again it may drip on whatever’s in there. I’ll do lots of gentle jiggling, but eventually one key will turn clockwise, the other anti, so the bolts withdraw from the side panels.’ After a while one key just kept turning, trying the other in the opposite direction, it worked too. ‘Now, the lid has to be lifted off, it has no complete hinge, just these groves that it sits in. There you go.’

We stared into the abyss. The only item, was some sort of smallish rectangular shaped leather holdall. ‘Kind of thing an engine driver might carry, room for a metal flask, bacon and eggs for frying on the fireman’s shovel.’ So offered Fin.

‘I’ll try the handles.’ Said Cat. Almost immediately he paused; ‘It’s heavy, there’s a fair chance these handles will give way. Fin, Charlie, get your hands underneath it as soon as you can.’

As soon as it was safely on the floor, Cat undid the straps and pulled back the cover.

‘Kitchen foil!’ Exclaimed Charlie.

‘Wooden lining, then lead foil.’ Corrected Cat. He peeled back one side, then the other. They lacked any lustre, they were small ingots and looked roughly made from a poor mould, but they were the right colour. There was a note, in copper-plate on a stiff placement card of some sort, it read; ‘I am the last of the Crimean gold.’

‘Well, well, who’d have thought. The sly old bugger, he primed me and I didn’t even know it. He didn’t know himself, just a gut feeling.’

‘Who? Your father?’ Charlie spoke.

‘I was only about ten, out of the blue one day he said; “Let’s take the afternoon off, go see a movie”. In this very city would you believe, The First Great Train Robbery starring Sean Connery. Of course, coming back into the light afterwards I must have said something like; “Was it a true story, did it really happen?” Then he explained, it was mostly fantasy, but there had been a real robbery, first of its kind, of the London Bridge - Folkestone boat train in the eighteen-fifties, a transfer of gold coins and bullion between London and Paris banks to balance the reserves, since onward payments for the war in Crimea would come from the French banks.’

‘Time-check please, Tony.’ Asked Cat.

‘Christ!’ I stepped forward and took a close-up snap of the exposed ingots and note. ‘Right, I’ll text that, to you know who. Now, Charlie, a variety of photos of the whole scene, show context, show safe as well, no people but something to show scale, we’ll all step back in the corner. Now, the call. Ringing. Ah! Good morning, Chief Constable, I’d like to report the discovery of stolen property, property of the Crown I have reason to believe. ..I’m using the same device I’ve used before, location activated. Thought I ought to inform you immediately on account of any moment now, cleaning services will enter the building, be surprised that alarms don’t go off, flip the switch, discover the alarms do go off; but anyway, your colleagues may get prolonged flashing lights, I thought you might care to take personal control?’

Next, I took a look at Charlie’s pictures; ‘There’s just one to add. Charlie, stand about there, take off your gloves, pick up an ingot and make like you’re holding a winning lottery ticket.’

And she did. ‘Right, here’s your phone back. Text the pictures to Wooley now, may take several texts, no words; then wait for him to call you.’ Then the alarm system went off.

‘How long before the police arrive?’ Asked Cat.

‘Depends who’s in the vicinity. Depends who gets informed. We’ll open the basement door, indicate our presence, we don’t want unnecessary strangers and chaos throughout the building.’

‘I’ll go first,’ said Fin, ‘I’ve met some of the cleaners before. Besides, I’d like to get to the nearest video panel, see what’s happening in the street.’

We hung back as Fin proceeded with caution. After a minute or so there was conversation above. Another couple of minutes and Fin called me; ‘You’re on speaker,’ I responded.

‘There were just a couple of rozzers standing by their car, next to your car as it happens, you’ll be illegally parked in twenty-three minutes by the way. Anyway, madam just arrived, with another male officer of some sort.’

‘Right, make sure all aspects of the security system are switched back on, as in normal working day, then back here as fast as you can. Charlie, gloves back on now those pics are sent.’

‘This had better be good Anthony, just because you’re connected, doesn’t mean I won’t nick you for wasting police time. Please put your phone down Sparkwell. Oh Christ, you’ve got the whole placed wired, haven’t you?’

‘Meet Fin Heptonstall here, he installed it all, including the latest facial recognition technology. Perhaps, if you would allow Charlie to take a picture of you with the haul, she’ll text it to The Beacon, it might get into print along with all the others she’s already sent, then you’d have praise showered upon you by a grateful nation...’

‘We’ll see about that. Okay, let the dog see the rabbit.’

It was after we’d all departed the scene, leaving everything to forensics, that the Chief Constable suddenly paused; ‘I’ve just realised, its bloody you. Isn’t it? Last week I got a memo about what facial recognition software we’re supposed to buy, it said a demo could be provided by Brinkley Associates.’

‘Tried and tested commercial software, off the shelf, at the normal commercial rate. You know, where you went wrong with that previous system was trying to use your old mugshot database and just round up the usual suspects...’

‘Shut it! For almost two years now I’ve been forced to waste countless hours reading documents about you two. Orders from on high. You want to know what conclusion I’ve come to? Charlotte, despite straying, on several occasions, has always wanted to play it straight, whilst you, have a clean record, all the privileges, but are forever tempting provenance, be warned, I always get my man.’

‘Well, I would love to chat more, it’s just that we must get going, otherwise in two minutes time you’ll be entitled to slap a ticket on our car.’

End of season five.