94: Funeral

‘Today I fear, is going to be one of those days.’

‘What days?’

‘Where I end-up taking charge, without trying or wanting to, and Tuffy much to his own annoyance, ends up being caught in the cross fire because he can’t see to get out of the way.’

‘Well, just make sure I’m told what I need to know, when I need to know it.’

‘Full dress, valette uniform please. And I must be in a black tie and as low key as possible. I don’t know, but I suspect I’ll be “sir-ing” as much as you today!’

It was nice to be attending an old-fashioned church funeral. The same church that I’d last attended to see Prudence married, and where some fifteen years before we’d said goodbye to Tuffy’s father.

‘Where on earth have you been?’ Demanded our host at the west door.

‘We’re not late, are we?’

‘No darling, spot on actually.’ Interceded his wife.

‘We’ve got a church full of people and I don’t recognise any of them!’

‘Friends of your mother presumably.’

‘She saw practically no one after father died.’

‘Well, friends of your father then, here out of respect.’

‘I don’t remember any of them from father’s funeral.’

‘Well, we were both a bit out of it that day. Your mother stepped-up to the mark and handled formalities.’

‘They are all of about her age Tony.’ Added Lady Victoria.

‘Right.’

‘How did you know to dress like that?’ Tuffy was being accusative again.

‘Er, look, do you mind if Charlotte and I sit up front with family?’ I said turning again to the better half.

‘Of course not, Tony.’

‘Well, as we seem to be the last, follow us.’ I said and moved forward pausing only when level with the first backs of heads, and consequently blocked the others behind us. A few seconds was enough, I spied some of Mr Tufnell’s business cronies and rivals, local dignitaries, I chose one sat about half way down the nave.

Placing a gentle arm on his shoulder, and whispering as if he were slightly deaf, I said; ‘Good to see you sir, there’s a grand tea at the house later, all of Mary’s former dinner guests welcome.’

When we were seated Victoria, whispered; ‘What are you playing at, I’m only set-up for about half a dozen at the house! There must be fifty of these wrinklies.’

‘Fear not, they’ll self-select, only a handful will turn up.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘Remember our conversation at the gallery? We need them.’ And then the music stopped.

Half way through the second reading my device pinged. Well, its only set up to tell me what I need to know, so I checked it, a text from Archie with a link to the Palace site, a sort of ‘be prepared’ health bulletin, I decided to tell no one.

Back in the fresh air, Victoria suggested I take her place next to Tuffy. I said; ‘Right, you greet them, thank them for coming and point out where in the churchyard, if anything else needs saying, I’ll say it.’

‘Thanks, old man.’

There were three of them, plus the gentleman I’d spoken to, who, once upon a time, had been the last Town Clerk and first Chief Executive of the Bay Council - we’re slow to change in these parts! They all said, in their own way, what a wonderful hostess Mary had been. I chipped in with; ‘You are coming back to the house Mr...'

As Sparkwell and I returned to the car, I speculated; ‘Amazing, is it greed, avarice, a sense of fun? Four men prepared to admit they know Mr Tufnell’s great secret, knowing I’m their last best chance.’

‘Well, at their age, they can’t be in it for anything but the game!’

‘Tuffy, I wonder if I might be permitted to show our guests your father’s study? Ideal for a little reminiscence therapy I should think, I might even be able to offload some of your father’s more obscure books, for a fair price of course.’

You could see the confusion, the desire to be relieved of these people, the fear I might be getting one over on him. ‘Oh, yes, naturally old man.’

‘We’ll let you entertain the ladies.’

A few minutes later I was able to say; ‘Gentlemen, welcome to the treasure house of Omar Khayyam!’

‘We’re none of us bookish Anthony, as you well know. Still, good enough ruse I suppose.’ So said Gerald.

‘Soak up the atmosphere everyone, whilst I find another chair.’ When we’d settled, I continued; ‘I imagine you’ve all been here before?’

‘Oh no, we were never allowed this far.’ Said the ex-Town Clerk.

‘Really. Anyway, let me brief you over the Will. Tuffy gets the house and cash, however; the possessions are to be shared out between Tuffy and myself.’

‘Well, at least that keeps the idiot son out of it.’ Said Gerald.

‘But I feel duty bound to inform you that, with Mary’s blessing, Mr Tufnell’s diaries and address books, all his vital numbers, are currently in my safe at the Villa, along with the entire contents of the anonymous safety deposit box.’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ Groaned Brian.

‘I could send my boys round!’ Asserted Jack.

‘Jack, your boys and I were at school together until age thirteen, if you sent them round, we’d just be sat at the kitchen table drinking tea and reminiscing about the fights we’d had on the playground tarmac.’

‘Really Jack, you should make an effort to stay informed. Anthony is, Mr Electronic Surveillance, saying it’s all in his safe is like saying it’s all in Fort Knox!’

‘Besides, my girl could flatten the lot of us.’

‘She knows?!’ Said Brian, alarmed this time.

‘As of today, only the absolute minimum. I’ve cut her out as much as possible.’

‘Good lad. Now then Anthony, what do you know of Mr Tufnell’s business affairs?’ Said the local bureaucrat.

‘Not much, which is why we’re sat here. He was a trader, buying and selling wholesale, modest bits of import, export. My interest was only aroused when I realised, he was living a lot more modestly than he needed to.’

‘Does the British Railways Property Board, open brackets, nineteen forty-seven, close brackets, Limited, mean anything to you?’ Asserted Brian.

‘Er, well, trying to remember my modern history, stage one of a nationalisation scheme, bring the property of all railway companies, and what was on that property, under the control of a single private company, which just happened to be owned one hundred per cent by the Crown.’

‘Very good. Now what do you imagine that included in our neck of the woods?’

‘He means within the relevant local authority boundary of the time.’ Added the public administrator.’

‘Blimey! As my partner would say. All the track and adjacent land, stations, locomotive depots, maybe the quarries from which the stone to build the railway came from, or at least the documents relating to change of ownership. Oh, was the grand intended retirement home of the great engineer owned by the company? And the end of the line, not only the station but the quay, and on the other side of the river too. But then the nineteen seventy-three local government act changes the boundaries. Where is this all leading?’

‘Ha! You’re the university educated one, now what happen when the railway decided to sell-off bits of land?’ Brian continued.

‘I was told this one quite recently, the preservationists were mad as hell, they wanted time to raise cash, but bits were sold almost instantly to local authorities.’

‘And what would we call that, Anthony?’ Said the quietly spoken local government officer.

‘Creative accounting. Selling something to yourself, given the amount of central government grant to local councils, to make closing railways look like good cost saving. Look, you’d better cut to the chase before the Lady Vic gets suspicious.’

They all looked at each other for a moment or two. ‘Your father bought property to boost the income of your Trust, okay?’ Said Gerald.

‘Yes.’

‘But his mate Tufnell got a bee in his bonnet about that guy who was brought in to shut railways. He spent his spare cash on every bit of ex-railway land he could find between our cathedral city and where the old transatlantic liners used to tie-up! Including, from some local councils, some of whom, were more than happy to oblige.’

Then Brian continued with; ‘Governments today seem increasingly interested in opening-up old lines; they imagine it will be as easy to get old land, as it is to get new land but...’

‘They’re in for a great big fucking surprise!’ Interrupted Jack.

92: Sweating

‘It’s not working!’

‘No, no it isn’t.’

‘All that trouble you went to.’

‘Yes.’

‘Rory’s lost his nerve, he’s dithering.’

‘He should bowl as fast as he can, Buffy has a good variety of shots.’

‘What? What has cricket got to do with a parliamentary committee?’

‘You can draw an analogy with cricket, for anything! Besides, Buffy has always had a cricket bat by his desk since school.’

‘Even in number ten?’

‘According to Carrie.’

‘Anyway, they can’t hog the conversation much longer, and they certainly won’t get away with more jabbering about your Anglosphere ambitions.’

We were sitting watching the television in the library at Checkley Manor, with the shutters closed. The heat had forced us indoors and onto a Mediterranean timetable. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the rest of Rory’s Whitehall watchdog forced the questioning onto ‘conduct unbecoming’ and the ‘dignity of office’. Buffy remained ebullient, but looked relieved when Rory started looking at his watch and asking the honourable members to keep questions short, to which one unintended wit replied; ‘Yes well, I think we all understand the Prime Minster’s time is almost up.’

‘Oh dear, oh dear.’

‘You, are going to need, a Plan B, old boy.’ I turned my head, just to check, yes, definite signs of her suppressed smirk.

It came out of the blue, as these things always do. ‘Have you checked your mobile?’ Asked Charlie.

‘No.’

‘A text from an M.T. “Come soonest STOP Be unobserved STOP” What on earth?’

I could feel my temperature drop, it’s what lets you act without falling apart. ‘It’s an emergency, pack everything, as if we were gone for good, drive around to the front and wait, fifteen minutes.’

‘But?’

‘So that everyone knows we’ve been called away. I’ll talk to Julia.’

‘Is she dying?’

‘Of course, but this must be about something that she needs to communicate in private, whilst she can still make herself understandable, rightly or wrongly she thinks this is her last opportunity. Not easy to arrange if you think about it, Tuffy and Victoria out of the way, maybe she’s off to hospital or a care home. I’m treating it as an emergency until I know different.’

‘But you think you know.’

‘Something about father, mother maybe, via her late husband.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘Town.’ Then, five minutes later, I had Charlie pull off the road. Saying nothing, I showed her instead. I switched off my mobile, then reached under the dash and pulled the plug on the computer, finally I stepped out, turned around, ferreted under the bench and pulled the plug on the extras. I then looked at Charlie in expectation. She turned off her two mobiles, showed me her off tablet and laptop.

‘This is Moscow Rules, is it?’

‘Well, not quite, just dead methods.’

‘Park here, just a short walk. But, er, keep your driving gloves on.’ I then extracted a modest selection of tools from the boot, small enough to fit in my pockets. I found a fold-away bag and then we were on our way, down the lane.

‘Where are we?’

‘Back of Tuffy’s house.’

‘Oh yes! Why?’

‘The message said unobserved, so...’

‘M.T. Mary Tufnell.’

Things were very overgrown, but the back door was unlocked. Inside the atmosphere said age, neglect, and the presence of a young female in the last few hours, carer not nurse or doctor. ‘Presumably the other two doors are unlocked, if so, the house is empty apart from Mary and we now have a plausible story for being here if interrupted.’

‘Two?’

‘This is the lower basement. Nonetheless we’ll need to lock all three before leaving by the front.’

When we came out on the ground floor I said; ‘We’ll try the first-floor withdrawing, but my guess is the bedroom.’

A few minutes later, at the bedroom door, I said; ‘Stay here, delay anyone arriving as long as possible, something like; “Tony is here about the deplorable state of the back and the yard, he always knows how to get things done cheap” etc.’

I knocked, no answer, I opened the door a little; ‘Hello! It’s Anthony.’ No answer, I went in and closed the door. She nodded towards the chair by the bed. ‘Before we talk, if you can give me the keys to the basements, Charlotte can lock them again right away.’ She pointed to them. I took them out to Charlie, then returned.

‘You took your time.’ She said it with that glint in the eye that Tuffy never seemed to notice.

‘We were at Checkley Manor.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, your summer holidays.’

‘You’ve got a young female carer.’

‘Not for long.’ A hand went beneath the covers, then reappeared, clenched. ‘My husband put these in my hand on his death bed, he was incapable of explaining, and I’ve never been able to find out.’

I felt metal in the palm of my outstretched hand, I extracted a bunch of small keys with my free hand, whilst holding on with the other. ‘Well now, these ancient ones open boxes, I imagine, in the late-great’s study, but this is a modern-ish safety deposit box key, and the letters and numbers tell us, oh, how convenient!’

‘Yes?’

‘Mary, there are different sorts of accounts, I may not be able to gain access until after your Will comes into force, it may even require Tuffy’s cooperation.’ All I got in reply was a blank stare. ‘Yes, er, Tuffy mentioned a while back you’d had him make a start on the office, but that he’d come unstuck with the day books, said they were written in some sort of code, perhaps I can help?’

‘Permission granted.’

There was a knock at the door. I placed the small keys in an inside pocket. Then collected, and returned to their rightful place, the basement keys. I remained standing. ‘I’m leaving now, you’ve put us on a tight schedule. I owe you everything, and I love you for everything you’ve done. To borrow a quote; “We will, meet again”.’

‘I believe you.’

‘Hold on here for a few more minutes.’ I said as we came to the study door. Mr Tufnell had kept the place neat to the end. Mrs Tufnell had kept it as her late husband liked it. Tuffy had just left it where he’d got to and walked away. Which was good, for what I thought I needed, was on the top of the pile. I extracted the non-transparent reusable supermarket carrier. We left by the front door.

‘Where to, sir?’

‘What time is it?’

‘You know bloody well I don’t wear a watch, but you still do!’

‘Jack’s filling station for a comfort break. How do you normally approach Archie Layton, text or phone first, or just walk in?’

‘Phone.’

‘Phone him from Jack’s, on whichever mobile you normally use, if he’s there, say you’ve a load of dosh to pay-in, hoping to get there before closing, let him assume you’re on your own.’

‘Shouldn’t you be briefing me?’

‘I don’t know. I would say, “you don’t wanna know”, but I don’t know that either. Therefore, using dead methods, it’s a series of physical cut-outs if and when required.’

Later, at the multi-story in our great cathedral city, we went fully back online. ‘Why now?’ She asked.

‘Well, we don’t want our system, our network, saying something other than the usual when in the presence of the Trust’s own banker’s security. And bank security tends to make all the running online anyway, internet giants and governments slipstream behind them more often than you’d think. Now, there’s another bag in here somewhere.’

‘Ha! Tony. What an unexpected surprise. Er, what’s going on?’ I was holding up the key. ‘Is that one of ours?’ Archie said, promptly shutting the door.

‘Well, I’d hardly be here otherwise!’

‘The thing is, I don’t really get involved in such matters. No authority, I’ll have to bring in Mr Cleverly, okay?’

‘Sure.’

The aforementioned arrived suspiciously quickly. After formal introductions; ‘If I could just view the key, sir. Thank you. I’ll use your terminal a moment Mr Leyton if I may. There. We don’t offer these key-holder accounts anymore, sir. Moved to a different system. As soon as you are happy to discontinue, do let us know. Still, nice to know it is in the hands of such a prominent client of our mainstream services. If you care to follow me sir, I’m sure Archie will keep Ms Sparkwell company.’

‘Oldest part of the new bank now, funny that. I rarely get to see it. Quite un-upgraded. I’ll be just by the door, sir.’

Right, take your time, no matter what’s in the tray, all in number two supermarket bag. Although, give the impression of sorting a little and just taking what you need.

63: The wedding party

‘Attic bedroom, front. Shout, if you need help.’ Said Mrs Tufnell.

Moving around Tuffy’s house I always feel a bit guilty. Knowing so much about the people in a place not one’s own, all none of my business really. Thankfully, the watercolours were back in their rightful place.

The storage space was neat, systematic. Now then, left fairly close at hand I imagine, placed more in hope than expectation, sentiment. Ah! The same old box, as luck would have it. And upon opening, sitting on the top, the opera hat! Hay ho.

Once downstairs again I started to fiddle with the tricks. ‘You’re looking very smart today Tony. But then you always do. We must remember, it will be their day.’

‘At the last wedding I attended, the bride accused me of being better dressed than she was.’

‘That’s what I meant.’

‘So, let me know what the happy couple intend to wear and Charlotte and I will endeavour to dress down. You know my tailor has taken quite a shine to her, he’s determined she should be my equal on all social occasions.’

‘I should think so!’

‘Oh, absolutely.’

‘Those tricks will need practice.’

‘Yes, I appreciate that, it’ll need to be every day, over and over.’

‘I’ve slowed down a lot over the last year, what with Victoria insisting on taking care of things.’

‘I can imagine. Right, then I’ll mark you down for twice around the harbour and a march along the Prom in the bracing sea air, each day they’re away.’

‘Goodness!’

‘Before lunch somewhere nice, of course. And fear not, I’ll have my chauffeur follow behind, ready to whisk you away should the occasion demand.’

‘How’s your Aunt Julia?’

‘Okay, as far as I can tell. We’ll be off for our summer visit soon, once Tuffy and Victoria are back, repenting at leisure.’

‘Wicked boy. And you can hardly accuse them of marrying in haste!’

‘True enough.’ Then I was pinged. ‘My carriage awaits. So, text me, constant communication, will see us through.’

‘Don’t laugh. In fact, stop watching. This is all meant to come as a surprise. It won’t work unless all those present, react spontaneously. Mistakes are part of the misdirection; they have to be practiced even more. The audience don’t want perfection, but they will be willing me to succeed, so it all has to come together at the end.’

In the end, we concluded that dressing down wouldn’t work. It would only make us look disrespectful of the occasion, and anyway I’d seen Tuffy look scruffy, even in the best attire. Conversely, the Lady Vic, what with her ballet background, always looked elegant and graceful whatever she was wearing. We decided the answer was to enhance the others, so arranged to turn-up with extra buttonholes and straw boaters for all.

Registry offices always look so depressing, don’t you think? Even ours, which is part of an old country house, still has the air of a government office. I whispered to my companion; ‘I don’t think I was ever told, where did you and the late great get married?’

‘I was just thinking of that, it was such a joyous, sunny day, the Abbey looked resplendent.’

‘What! Not the Abbey?’

‘Stupid boy! No, the abbey church at Abbey Ducis.’

‘Oh right, just down the road from Jocelyn St. Mary you mean?’

‘That’s the one.’

Matters continued with a dull inevitability. Repeating the same script, day in day out, must make it difficult for any registrar to put any life enhancing positivity into their performance. I couldn’t help mumbling aloud a certain ditty; “The groom is nervous, he answers twice; It’s really killin’, that he’s so willin’...’

‘Behave, Anthony.’

“Think what a year can bring, yes; He’s washin’ dishes and baby clothes; He’s so ambitious he even sows” ...’

‘I suppose I can’t really admonish you, my husband used to sing it to himself all the time.’

‘Gosh, so that’s where I get my love of jazz age musicals.’

‘My son alas, hath no music in him.’

‘Is that grounds for objection, can I stop the wedding?’

After we’d bourn witness and passed the next couple on their way in, Charlie produced some confetti from I know not where? We took turns taking pictures and I made a mental note not to give up entirely on my own chances of hearing the wedding bells ring out.

‘And now, ladies and gentlemen, prepare to be amazed...’ And believe it or not, for ten minutes, they were. They wanted to be; they were in the mood for silliness. Life in the Tufnell household always did have a quite gentleness to it. It was life outside that caused Tuffy agitation. I asked Charlie; ‘So, do you think you’ve finally got him of your hands?’

‘Me! I’m not the one trying to get rid of him, you palmed him off onto Victoria.’

‘You know what I mean!’

‘Actually, he just apologised and said he would not be able to come to me for any more treatments in the future, paid me off with a big tip in fact.’ Then she stuck out her tongue.

‘Be sure to pay it into the bank.’ I sort out the bride; ‘So, where is Tuffy whisking you away to?’

‘He won’t say, it’s a bit worrying really.’

‘You’d better prepare to be delighted then.’

We were still none the wiser when a taxi arrived to deliver the happy couple to the railway station. Tuffy’s parting words stayed with me; ‘Thanks old man. You will take care of mother; she’s really quite highly strung you know.’

One day, when we were walking the Prom, I placed a tentative foot in the water, so to speak. ‘Did my father know your Mr Tufnell well?’

‘Not hugely, it was only a couple of years between you boys meeting at school and your parent’s accident.’

‘Right. I’ve inherited much of my father’s stuff, via my aunt, been trying to make sense of the documents. I noticed Mr Tufnell in father’s big, business address book the other day, various numbers, etc.’

‘I never really talked business with my husband, just listened to him sounding-off when frustrated about something.’

‘Did he have any connection to the old bank, three doors down from the new bank in our great cathedral city?’

‘Not that I’m aware of.’

‘When the new bank created itself, the building of the old remained in the family and became part of the Trust.’

‘What exactly is the problem?’

‘Well, father’s papers should close a gap in the Trust archive, show how the nineteen fifties becomes the nineteen eighties, but, as of now they don’t quite meet.’

‘Your fishing, but I’m elderly, I need something specific to trigger the old memory!’

‘You were my last hope.’

‘Well, it’s no good asking me, if you don’t know what you are looking for! If you see what I mean?

‘Yes, I think I do. I’ll just have to physically visit all the spaces the Trust owns and see if any of that resonates.’

‘But surely most of it is rented or leased to somebody, can you get access without resorting to breaking and entering?’

‘Oh, now that’s an idea. Come to think of it, one could try robbing a bank.’

We’d arrived at a cafe. I left Mrs Tufnell to sit and admire the view, whilst I ordered. Upon returning, she said; ‘Always an intrigue with you Tony. First you lost trust in everybody but yourself. That meant you became a watcher, always observing before taking any action. Then the secret plotting, for fear that some nameless dread might descend upon you.’

‘Charlotte calls it my “scheming”.’

‘And always in pursuit of a woman, whether you’re actually involved or not.’

‘Ah, well, that’s just natural.’